The Insomniac Writer

you have carved your face
in the stone of my heart
a graven image of a frigid flame
you have burned you words
in my oaken mind
you have branded me with your wicked name
 
You have fed me lies
on a plate of mistrust
the ruined manna from a god of mud
you have poured your wine
a vinegar Syrah
you have poisoned me with [...]

I dreamed that the night was afire
sparked by embers of truth yet to come
the moon made each wise man a liar
and each poet became deaf and dumb
 
In our minds we had all of the answers
in our hearts we had nothing but doubt
If fear was the song, we were dancers
and its coda our only way out
 
So [...]

less than living
more than dead
an image in
the Maker’s head 

some twisted plana Garden lost
a love upheld
by brutal cost 

a homeless mana rebel priest
who said the great
will be the least 

last will one daybe the first
and those who drink
will never thirst 

a martyr forthe cause of grace 
young Isaac’s ram
to take our place 

a bloody pricea three day wait
to mortal [...]

 
I form a noose from fate’s thin thread,
teeter on the chair of time,
and ask myself if God is dead
or just some cosmic mime.
 
I pledge to walk the rope of Grace,
suffer all that He may ask,
and search the homeless for His face
through shades of darkened glass.
 
I storm the gates of hell on earth
killing all that passed [...]

These bitter wounds that never healed
now pain me in the night:
the too cool sheets where you once slept
(a wrong that felt so right,)
 
a lover lost to time and space
(our distance never closed,)
the void where once I kept a heart
(before it decomposed.)