Sunday, April 21, 2013

kingdom of heaven

had hands of rage, had the
soft glow of a martyr

debated god with the
sick and the crippled

everything is within your reach,
you see, and
then you piss it all away

you stay fucked up for so long
that the idea of getting clean
scares the hell out of you

look in the mirror and
the poem is about me

stare at the sun long enough
and the infinite becomes visible

don’t trust in words

don’t put your faith
in the intangible

not all absence is an
emptiness waiting to be filled

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