Afterlife

What I look for in my afterlife,

Does not involve immortality,

Does not involve resurrection,

Does not involve obvious impracticalities.

 

But involves different floors, different sections,

Dedicated to a specific time of my life,

I am a time traveler removing thorns from my side,

Giving sickness and sorrow to those who eventually would decide to be betray the generous nature of my character.

 

I would take a straw broom and sweep the path before my steps,

Brushing my ground while I  knowingly watch my body proceeded safely without harm.

I would watch me become…

What the world wouldn’t allow,

And spring from the unyielding darkness I wish I could now.

 

What I look for in my afterlife,

Does not involve immortality,

Does not involve resurrection,

Does not involve impossibilities,

But only a clear direction, reflection, and inspection of a past life I couldn’t live.

 

I wonder if I’m dead right now looking down on my past self but not really doing a good job at the sweeping, but that’s okay…I’ll eventually get it right.

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Insomnia

I keep my demons in my cellar,

The holy gatekeeper ironclad at the door,

I’ve gotten used to the sound of them beating at the floor,

They do not eat, because I do not feed,

They are not alive so they do not bleed.

 

Holy gatekeeper mantled in crosses,

Prays for hearts of the thoughtless,

Well righteous and dauntless,

Screaming psalms at the godless,

Oh gatekeeper my guard,

Tame the hate eaters,

Regard,

My sleep,

Discard,

Heresy.

 

The terror of prosperity,

The fear of accomplishment,

The possibility of failure,

The potential for success,

The beginning of nothing less than-

The inability to rest.

 

The Lack of Faith

Another demonstration of excellence,

This time…without my eyes I see,

Evidence of God in woman,

Her nobility shown on skin.

I am hung by my nerves as she stings the endings,

Beaconing me nigh inside the realm of her energy,

She grasps my soul,

To remind me I am scorned,.

Salvation by infatuation with the happiness I know she can offer,

Faith,

To which I’ve a many year lacked,

Playing the game of love,

Strumming the harp of discord,

What is given to me,

What is given to us,

I cannot deny,

The aggression of beauty,

Present and blinding,

This time….without my eyes,

I see,

With the pain that I possess,

His presence.

I will petrify at her feet to wonder what would become of me while small inside her arms,

Free and unstressed,

Undone and undone,

To which do I pursue,

An eternal question.

Your Religion

Composure first then reaction,

Wait…no, reaction first then composure,

Oh how the strong man lacks clemency,

And tears.

 

The sword of your religion to pierce my back,

Restrain the sin inside,

Arrest the rest of good,

Judge what my thoughts tell me.

 

The horror of your righteous words,

The terror to your sainted tongue,

The screams in your eyes,

Tell me I am wrong,

For the quipping mouth and jesting jaws,

Will break at untruths.