his prayer

God watch your child this night
watch him and hold him
keep him as your own and let him know no fear
let his sin wash away with the tides and be carried to oblivion

let his soul merge with your just for tonight
let him see what you see just for tonight
let him feel no pain, like you, tonight

let him see no more evil so his heart pause in its quiet trepidation
let him hear no scoffing so his mind will stop its self-loathing need to be one of these fallen cretons, these saddend judas's
let him feel no shame so his soul will stop tying itself in knots to the sound of its tears falling at the loss of it innocents at the hands of a world with nothing but death to offer

why must he stay here for this sad vacation when all he wants is to go home and get some fucking sleep
why must indure this pain that threatens his his very sanity for a pathetic word called life when no life touches this infected soil, this rotted killing field
why must he shed his heart for people that only use him to further themselves at his loss
why must continue this struggle when home coming is only a bullet and a barrel away
why

Dad forgive him for his transgrestions and bring him comfort for his continued sentence in this hell

for his sake
watch him
hold him
heal him
love him
tonight

i cant think of a title call it "just read it"

Death will be the only thing that saves you in the end . No undone sin or unspoken scoff, no rule left unbroken could ever save you! Nothing in this ever changing, ever insulting, ever self centered world could ever come close righting the insurmountable wrongs we have wracked our fathers heart with! We have spit in the face of the only man that will ever love us, the only man that will be there for us no matter our predicament, we have spit in his face and beat his son to death and yet he still stays by us! Nothing in our rotting wrags our derlict belongings could ever be concidered a sacrifice that would clear our debts! Death, death is the only saving grace, the death of our fathers son for whom we are not even worthy of concidering our brother but more a trancendence of our fathers love! i tell you now that we should concern ourselves with the here and now for all this is dying, we should concern ourselves with the death that brought life, from the spilt blood that caused the earth to quake, with the crown that no man could bear, with the crushing saddness our father felt at the loss! You go to your beds and dream of your promotions and the girl that made eyes with you! I go to house that my father builtfor me with his own hands!

tiny timber

The time is told by the ticking tumblers on the tiny timber door that traverses through the threshold to the truest tribrutary of this soul.
The trouncing thumping tone of the traducers timlessly trepidate my temperance and try my tenderness to test my trancendence as they turn the tide and the tone of my term with their timeless trouncing upon my tiny timber door, that takes me to turning points trifiling treverse.
They trepidate to triumph that which traps them and tenures their hearts, to turn themselves loose to trancend to their own transitory relief.
Truly whether triumph or terminent the traducers will try to trepidate till their trap rings true then this timid heart will be tossed and they will track new tokens to tax, new turkey to tool out their transitory touch of trancendence.

ode to a fallen angel

You were my angel, once, but oh how you've fallen.
You use to cause my heart to beat.
Now you've left it taterd and broken
you once were my love to keep,
now you're just my hearts defeat.
You're the little girl who decieved me.
you're the venom that's stopped my breathing.

But the joke's on you, I cured myself.
I raped and pilliged my own heart.
It will be my hand on the blade that tears my soul apart.
It will the fires of my own endless tides of remorse that will cause my heart to harden and my soul to bleed.
You wanted to be the main attack.
Honey doll you're just the second act.
so sorry to disappoint you
angel

My ears are bleeding and my hearts is needing

The echoing tides of change are causing my ears to quake and bleed as my heart turns upward to fufill my wants and needs.
For I know the way the tides are flowing will take to planes of reality I should not be going.
But alas what can I do?
Father, my dearest friend, what should I do?
What would you have of your loving son?
Tell me dad what must be done?
To stop these perverse and corrupt nay incidious and ungodly tides?
Tell me Father, tell me Lord, tell me dearest and truest friend.....

The Shoulder Man

 It's been six years since my demonic we'll just say "experience" and yet even as i forget and lull myself in the day to day humdrum life of and mid-twenties family man there ar still the  rare moments when i can FEEL him, I foolishly thought he'd left, that after scaring me to the point of fainting and causing two accidents he'd left. But alas I still feel his presence, his haunting dead plastic eyes bearing down on me. feel the weight of him like the day he had pinned me to my bed and even now i can see that grin. that grin, the grin of a ma...creature that had slipped fully into madness. a grin that stretched too far to be human and yet that was just want he wanted. a fake dead face to let me know he was n't human, no not some burglar looking for cash no a real lurking predator waiting for me. waiting for me to get in the perfect place to hurt me. I lucked out in those accidents nothing serious and no injuries, i think that's why he's still around, waiting for the day that my constant feeling of dread, my constant shoulder glances, my constant fearful hiding will have caught up to me that i will be transfixed on my shoulder man and miss some frontal danger. My dark Follower to watch my untimely demise withe sickened glee, with his fake dead  smile

i only hope my family won't be there