Holy Hell

for a time, this One seemed to have touched the Light
Then at Dusk, realized it was only the beginning of night
he sees all black or all white
Knocked back off kilter with a small smack from a tall wight
the story of life back on filler but can still feel her, alright
This One with new names, but the same steely plight
Aptikos means cold, this One’s soul winter’s chilly night
Sometimes thinks One could restart the killing fight
Hellion is failin
wells-in are fallin
Miss seeing plain red like babies faces bawling or rabies ladies crawling
Miss being dead like medusa’s men of stone, or love 1 should have shown
Want to create one thing that says I’m not a stupid sadistic satanic clone
Haunt, of late, come bring a hat that pays in coins made from hedonists bone
strangely stylistic, brain been nihilistic, Love seems to be the slickest thing shown
pain radiates from the heart like a wasps nest radiates stingers
can’t help but watch as it slips through the fingers
joy from everything on fire, rain water
Plain black, but on a train track, food that wont expire, stains getting hotter
accidents that get too much energy
not just friendly ghosts who’ve played with me
not Just nor Holy, them who’ve prayed with me
Soul at sea, why cant they see, Lightning hits the favored tree
Can it not be, is my plea, sighting bit by bit what it will be
smaller the fee, to say the problem, me, will soon just flee
this One is no dark bringer, just a harbinger
Started to feel it with her, now even the Stars assure
Cannot explain with engraved words or in-graved herds,
Insane hurts, We merely wear in-pain shirts
inspiration comes with in-pain spurts
indignation, familiar garb, like a girls favored skirt
Why build a road, the world already paved with dirt
It is our mode, Do what it takes, even when hurt
Dont like myself, but part of me hates eveyone else more
not where i should be, like sea shells stored lower than hells floor
swimming slower than sea turtles trapped inside garbage island
trimming more than when hurdles were wrapped around a heart, then silent
have to keep stepping upon the mountain to climb it
nothing ever stays the same, no such thing as normal
Maybe your climb is stairs, or a ladder, little difference to the matter
reach the peak, could it be snow capped and frozen
preach then sneak, snapped and now showed them
perhaps they were meant to know it, one more brick paved on the path
inside a nuclear wasteland, but another bottle cap saved in Klamath
outside, a newer waste man, another bottle shop used to stay his hand
something about the way i can just sit here and ramble, makes me feel at home, like the people in the commercial for soup made under the orders of campbell
maybe ill feel at home, when the ship will stand still, and those lost on it believe that i am hell

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