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From the altars of the wicked flows the blood of mankind…

Genetically created generational curses…

We bare the sins of our fathers and feed our hunger with the impurities of our mother’s bosoms

Lapping mouthfuls of human filth…

Let us kneel at the river of genocide slitting each other’s throats, let us kiss and bleed out into its current…

Let this cleanse us,

Dear lord let this cleanse us…

Let us caress our deformities…

Let us fondle and fuck our weaknesses to sleep…

We will embrace our normality; we will leave our ambitions to the decisions of a firing squad…

And so we will dance in a holocaust, digging the mass graves for the corpses of self-identity.

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In Moments Alone

The pendulum swings and seconds fall from minutes…

minutes that fall from hours…

hours that peel back into days, and so on.

The walls stand opaque, painted with the evening’s shadow. I sit alone with my thoughts as they strain through my mind.

I tell myself I’m not dead.

I tell myself Gods not dead.

I grasp my hands and fall to my knees.

Will my prayers be answered?

Are they all just empty sonnets?

Is there more than just a dome like sky to cry out to?

Do the clouds catch my pleas?

Do the stars burnish an answer?