Thin Air

Golden honey dressed in silk,
does the light of which still bounce
off your eyes, reflecting a desire
for the mortal greed?

O'er poisoned hills we walked,
trying to reach the Garden of Eden,
before the cancer of our very existence
spread beyond the borders of our skin.

Revelations were not found
within the honesty of any faith,
for they wear venom on their words
when the holy men bite.

O the feeling, this is,
to no longer be able
to dream of angels
saving any of us,

how deliverance
escapes us;
while I despair.

And now do I not know
the real difference
between true love
and distorted hate.

It is getting harder to breathe
in this world of neglected people
and neglected salvation:
this world that God has forsaken;

I wander in the darkness
where the air is getting thinner
every single day

only waiting for
the last remnants
of my soul and mind
to rot and decay,

wandering till my feet bleed
to find a place of rest,
though knowing deep down
that having any hope is in vain,

and the air is getting so thin
that I can hardly breathe
for any longer.