the texture of the decaying dead

the texture of the decaying dead

It has always been that way
She finally outside of any function
Practicing with the very symbol
The disconnection occurs
The voices lose their power
All she hears is my voice
My peaceful loving voice
My life was a model for her to follow
I was a witness for the truth
I pointed the way to greatness
I showed her that life was more than what you could see
Standing automatically on a single line
Incomplete contrast
It is a multidimensional space
The variables are more than we can count
More than we can observe
She is greater than me
I have too many human foibles
She is much stronger
The ghost of the soul still clings to me
It makes me stumble and fall
Sometimes I forget where I came from
How I learned my trade
She never forgets
To know the inner thing
Interpreted as moments of difference
They seem incompatible with each other
The mind and the soul
They are like two brothers
Seeking to destroy the other
Each is jealous of the other
Soon to be lost in the anonymity of time
Once you have been freed from the bondage of the soul
You will never return to the darkness
You will see things as they truly are
For the first time
Eyes wide open
Seeing life as it should be
Without the chains of religion
The monster presses in against me
Removing my faith in human beings
Forcing you through each and every gate
Dropping them on the floor
Their guts dropping out
One smooth movement
Like a ballerina
Beautiful motion
Suspended between two hooks
Waiting for damnation
Waiting for the hand of god
I move
Breaking all connections
Destroying this human creation
Tossing them aside
Like used rubbers
Into a pile of old bones
The new and the old mixed together
An odd mixture
Life is full of odd mixtures
I devour them
Someone put their love and care into them
To polish them into a righteous hue
And I destroy them
Obliterate the work
Remove the wrappings of care
That enshrouds them
And I throw them all into a pile
Mixing the old with the new
Desolation hanging over me
Under the reign of a black hole
Unseen forces pulling me along
Born under a hidden sign
She held me to her in a tight grip
Coming out of her in a different wave
Someday a glorious wave
Dragging you along
By your chain
Securely attached to your neck
Kicking to get out
To crawl out on hands and knees
Lucky to be able to crawl
Talking like an idiot
Acting desperately on your passion
You love too much
That is your problem
Your love for me is evidence against you
Condemned by your prayers
Hollowed out prayers
Wanting to believe in an immeasurable abyss
Showing me your love
Entrails in your hands
The sacred blood washed all over you
Beneath the skin
Shimmering blue-green
Like all good hearted chimeras
Prostrated supplications
We beat the supplicants
They are dogs to be beaten
You enjoy this too much
There has to be discipline
Not uncontrolled passion
We are doing this for science
The cruel mistress