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From Bitter Submergence, Loving Enlightenment.

This life it weighs on thee.
Bound to material,
the physical we endure combatively.
Earth-born all is ephemeral.

Ancient works uncovered,
only intensify a burden.
We are fallen angels unfeathered,
—of that I am certain.

Two into one, of three we be.
Yet unto one a return,
and of three they see.
Of transcendent planes we yearn.

Mortality the prescription,
sense perception an unawakened state.
Past loves I’m missin’-
dwelling on the things I hate.
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Of those from within,
and those of without.
Some just trying to win,
others filled with doubt.

On heavens light we pretend,
the end we cannot comprehend.
Seek and ye shall find,
an aeon not bound by time.

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It’s the bottom of the 9th and I can’t find my bat.

Two roads split off from here,
never felt so open, nor so near.
Too late to breathe, too little to adhere.

My life is a colored path of missed taken steps.
Swallowed my share of mistaken breathes,
all of which I aim to keep, souls I chose to reap.

A darkness held me,
and you always told me,
if I only knew how to be set free.

It came from within,
didn’t call, a pretentious way to win.
Never required science, no nuclear fission.
Just a willingness to see a tardy vision.

Been dead all this time,
Frankenstein’s monster I was a mime.
Most intelligent, all pain, all grime.

Giving life to a thing that had past,
the weight of someones world like steel ballast.
Sunken down the river, hoped you’d never last.

I cursed you like the sun,
a scorn you could outlast.
Now I sit in lament,
wishing you could leave just as fast.

Yet I come as soldiers torches burning the night.
‘Come out my dawn’, unaware you’d adorn a fight.
A war lost-one of attrition, a beggars fiction.

Time is a selfish bitch.
All you did was wish
for a time I was yours,
and emptiness was no lore.

Can’t seem to hold a beat,
liquor knocking me off my feet.
Let us be absolved-be let free.

No longer alive and not nearly dead.
Wish I could take back all the things I had said.
Yet that is the sentiment of time,
no ones truly yours, you are not mine.

So feed your fancies from a screen,
only hope you won’t hear me scream.
Cannot fathom, cannot see,
on this bar stool I’d rather lean.

‘Why are you being nice?’
‘Why do you like me?’
You are the fire that thawed the ice
after years to you it wasn’t likely.

Oh how stubborn the scars that refuse to fade.
Or are they reminders of better days?
No just a reason to stay away.
Four years lost but still love-always.