Faith ate a cancer
in the altar boy's soul,
by a white collar
that held him
in the lustful worship
of a false god.
In The Woes Of Withdrawl.
Chained to his empty wallet which hugs his hip,
just another victim of the hype that became a hypodermic,
from a local drug dealer that he's now unable to pay,
with a girlfriend who dropped the friend part,
because he was too strung out, to hang with.
Thus he awaits the knock on his door that will bring
the fisted wrath of collectors for his debts past due,
never knowing the answer lies in his own soul,
even as he's still longing for the wrong kind of fix.
I'm not broken,
I am simply a badly
No longer able to
hold the tears in,
since the flower
I once held
Live For Today, It's Brief.
long for nostalgia,
always peering far ahead,
while his own past slipped away?
Was his boyhood plagued
with dreams of distant disasters?
Lost in tomorrows when he
should've been climbing trees.
own future vanished
leaving his predictions of
the future frozen forever
in his yesterdays ignored.
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