Angry Prophet

ANGRY PROPHET

If it had been her left degraded. Would god still of left me so unfavoured and hated. If he had just blown in some serotonin I wouldn't be left so alienated. Landlords asking for the rent I said my alien ate it. I don't feel created I feel generated. Think about the difference in the significance. One it titualnt and one is brilliant but that is decided by how we're programmed. Feminism for the grown man makes him feel threatened. The idea of higher power making them fear the reverend. It's a fucked up system for the defendant. But we're a generation of victims, locked in and act dependant. I am slowed to the notion of poetry in motion. Concocting a hate potion on which I'm overdosin'. I am one of God's few unchosen like the broken homeless of the seventh solstice.

You have been stepped on, slept on, wept over and hammered, soul shattered, mind scattered, reminiscing on whether any of it mattered through storms hurricanes, eyes of the tornado, feeling like you weren't worth a pound on the payload. You are your own worse enemy. Commit suicide with your energy, trying to steadily remain sane the same as you were before your mind and body betrayed you, you feel like the angels hate you and God is no longer faithful. You feel the summers dimmer and Street lights don't shimmer, the body of a pacifist trapped around the mind of a killer. Nocking down every pillar that ever held you up. You don't give a fuck because you believe hell is up, a fighter's vision to condense your sense of nihilism.

Within the canopy of anarchy and the savagery of flattery, there is pageantry in this travesty. Fake love embroiled in pity and low self-esteem, the gleam of a dream reverts non-believers to their dream when the seem rips and the scales tip who do we call for, who do we blame whos name is vandalized in all war. 

The night sky is ever infinite, simple yet intricate, I will not be a member of your syndicate my mind is forever guessing never silent always stressing, Evanescence and adolescence have me craving human presence. human validation, human salvation. in the ideology of God, some people may nod.

God forgive me I am your perfect sinner, I am you sinner of the soul the winner of the whole competition, the winner of the vision avert your eyes from my suspicion. I'm on a head collision with like 3 different galaxies. The atrophy of my mind, my soul, my body, my heart 

Dear mum,
I'm sorry for the tears, and I'm sorry for the flowers you placed upon my grave, I couldn't go another day but you have to see this my way, I did what you said and I prayed and I prayed, and I played all happy ,  but it rained on man so I died in Cincinnati