God is a delusion
a sweet confusion
created by men
alone in dark places
to bring comfort
when the faces
they see in their dreams
belong to strangers
I have no belief system
anymore
All the building blocks remain
I can reach out
and touch
the rough texture
of my existence
But they are lifeless things
stained and worn
stinging the thick skin
of my fingers
I pray for
blood trails in sky
an excuse or
reason
to remove my eyes
and placed them on a lonely
country road
waiting for cars
waiting for stars to explode
Waiting for the redemption
I was once promised by
the caress of all
who loved me.
We are strands
running fast through the hands
of time
colours deep and worn
born at the dawn
each thread
a story torn from eternity
We scream our relevance
to the indifference of
alive
What you are
I aspire to be
what I am
you still cannot see
or believe
Time is a thief of hope
coiling us into forgotton
bundles at its feet
And no one told me
I would thrive or survive
that was my mistaken truth
my aching brutish mantra
to cling to
I know
you are waiting for me to release
I know
brittle is my name
and the sun is wane
on my skin
Naked in the distilled waters
of my unraveling
there is a calm
to the cold
a balm
in holding on
