Write, Child

Write, Child

Write, child, write

You whisper such harsh words to the paralyzed

Well, I will write, sir

I will write until my bones creak under the pressure

They will bend and break

ooze and scream out in terror

I will write until existence is only the perceived affection of pen to paper

Yes, I hear those words you sweetly designed for me

I hold them in my soul of a thousand daggers

Certainly, I will reach inside those infested waters,

Pulling out this hand of solidly torn oak

And cease the crescent waters of healing

I will burn in this disaster

But, I would rather have it in your sight

Instead of by the words of false idols

And uncontrollable desires of the suburban beast

I am yours

And they cannot break this creation

Your creation

And yet, their tainted, twisted words of fire and tar

Stir and mix

Boiling into a drug-state of lucidity

Am I actually even awake now?

And yet, I can hear them crying

Those tears I've caused

Those furrowed brows I've worked so flappidly to create

Simply because they lacked their simple truths

And are caught in a web of mere mortality

Of mere presence of true life

I am smitten

And disgusted

Revolted

With the pain I invoke in these beasts of flesh

Because, perhaps, the more they cry

The more open to the existence of a true world

And, therefore, their true meaning of beauty

Sickening plane of dust, bone, and tears

I am finished with it

I am finished with screams

I've departed and only wish to lay claim a spot on your lap

When do I get to cry for what I've lost?

When do I get to break?

Please, I pray this time of torment ends soon

And that I amy break off from the placidity

This torrid death

And embrace those words you speak to me

Write, child, write

Simply state what you want, and I wil give it to you

So, I write...

And, what is it that I actually want?


FREEDOM TO LOVE AND WORSHIP

TO CHOOSE THE PATH YOU CHOSE FOR ME

WITHOUT BOUNDS OR COMPLAINTS...

I WANT TO BE YOURS