A color,
a vision,
a mollified incision:
the inculcation of sadism,
pure projection,
elation in relation
to distance created,
and the finding of folly
in finitude.
Reminiscing, a missionary plants his crook in desert shade.
I will not let strife destroy me, nor pride, or delicate amenity.
Wisdom has deep roots, biting into their filthy strata to bind themselves.
To gain perspective, to build towards the light. Whether it burns or not.
I wish you’d bring me back to life
Superstitious hurdles
Choking on your trials
Vicious circles
I wonder who we are together
Cuz I’ll never know the answers
and I’ll always wonder why
Now, this is who we are
A reverend with no answers
and a lamb for sacrifice
(Don’t take away my shadows. Let me have the madness that gives my faith a fight.)
