Doubt

I dream when I sleep and I weep when I wake because I can’t take all of the mistakes that I’ve made such a surprise but not such a prize when every other problem is marked wrong on the test a grade of C- at best and I have to rest my head in shame for I am to blame for all that came whispered dispersed my mouth on fire with desecrating words and simple hypocrisy stifling the breath of the world after the explosion of the apocalypse streaming out smoke from my fingertips and my suddenly silent lips the eclipse of the sun just another sign that our domination is done exclusivity runs through your blood sacrificial breath in your empty lung just a test just a rung on the ladder never leading to anything but batter and battering of the wife that doesn’t compromise for the sake of self-purported demise I can’t recognize the anti-femininity that resulted in feminism a war for women to express their machismo men aren’t the only creatures weaker than Jesus the speaker killed for being a believer in his own divinity and could still be a preacher of humbleness that can only be realized by a teacher caught up in the truth presented to be even cheaper if you buy removal of foreskin another casual try to save the battle in my mind taking handfuls one at a time when I used to be productive now starts blowing reduction out of the water the Michael Jordan of sleep and the Michael Jackson of repeat and the Michelangelo of defeat I don’t find myself particularly attractive to anyone that takes a class four minutes after my sole love is yesterday which must have been great seeing as I don’t recall the escape I forced down my throat in haste waking up again in a hospital late in the day ignore the grammatical grace that I bore in the entirety of folklore and bad taste return to the beginning of the age of waste and attempt to change the attitude of excessive amounts to replace all that we fuck up and all the lack of space that we make because our egos expand as if we deserve credit for the hill of sand that I stand on and sought much of life is depressing lying in bed slowly  regressing to a past of being fetal in dressing the legal substance the placenta beauty parental and now I should stop for I was moved to so close of a grave plot no one can tell me that I am wrong when I stand so close to the long long list of deceased I know no one on it from which I’m relieved religion confuses me I feel deceived I thought traveling to heaven was the ultimate goal why do we cry at the passing on one’s soul I think the answer is doubt