Lyrical Play..

Swallowed by rapture, the capture of souls in a box, twenty locks, on a door to the plans God botched, in a room defiled by piles of loose tiles, a slow annihilation of creation, emotional salvation is plagued with racists and hatists, and sadists who prey on labors of the kind, God’s one divine flaw in the human design. His crime was assigned to a race that found greed, hearts bleed through the streets, where deadbeat leaches are left with desperate leases on their beings, their spirits smearin’ across faces, races, racing towards contradiction, God’s indecision, decimated a nation he once envisioned in a dream, the dream was wasted on gluttony, apathy changing hearts into rocks, sold to feed the demons we let creep into our brains as a way to escape God’s one great mistake. The Human Race has gone fake, fake with Band-Aids of denial scraping the breaking point of human surivial, force-feeding us demons found in a bottle. Liquid or solid, we swallow the lot of it, adamant to disguise the life that we’re rotting in. Plotting demise is no longer a sin, but an option for those whose wings have fallen off from exhaustion, lack of Oxygen, in a brain craving toxins at rock bottom, where the Devil is secretly doing all the grave plottin.