Monday, December 19, 2016

Awake, Alive

Awake, alive
Lit up like the fourth of july
This holding cell
This prison camp
Weighs heavy on the undertones
Of mistakes I regret
And chances I didn’t take
She is a demon, haunting the hallways
Whispering my transgressions
Slinging hateful rhetoric
About building walls and fucking them all to death

It wanes, my once cerebral assurance
That all is well, that all will resolve
Now, the sins of my forefathers
The blood on my hands
Starts to spread, to take hold of the inches
The millimeters now, separating truth from a lie
Death from  life

And I sit, unable to rise
Flooded by waves of uncertain self-loathing
Mornings spent waiting for the afternoon
Nights spent waiting for the morning
In hopes that some resolution will come
Waiting, hopefully not in vain
But most likely in vain

So, what the hell
Come lord Jesus come
Come Advent, the fires of hell
Come the New World, Westward expansion,
Space travel
The next frontier
The next beyond
That hope in something new

Until it comes

And lets me down again.

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