Dark Heaven

Earth becoming the planet of the disoriented,
Words without life,
Opinions, full of criticism and spite,
Regurgitated from the pit of your sour belly,
With the depth as deep as you choose to roam,
Your personal sea of unvented decay,
Or lackluster expression,
In an endless sea of melancholy and void,
And supressed in the background
The silent desperate quiver of yesterday’s fears,
Guarding it’s throne in the fragile story of your life,
Coveting the untold piles of unchartered beauty,
Pages and pages of shining stars hidden between the rancid ones,
Something of a ‘Jonnie or Janie be good’ trying to sell reprimands,
Displaying a show  of exchange,
Shame for wisdom you offer,
Cloaking the truth,
Concealed behind a plastic reality,
Only ever seen by you,
Fluffy and soft through this deception,
We are all the same in this way,
So may hours and days we withered,
In a rigorous frenzy towards our own invention of truth,
As we battle each other to remove the blindfolds
That thwart the ingenuous nature of each of our existences.
We can choose to stop any time we want,
And find our Church within.

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