PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This isn't the first time I've encountered my conscience
I get these silly ideas after a long stretch of God feeding me rotten apples
When a man's got too much bad luck, he tends to yield to the
awful taste in his mouth
And that was just the base of this mountain

I didn't always thnk this you know.
Years ago, I was proud to do this sort of work, but latley I can't
exactly sleep
Something doesn't sit right with that woman
a terrible reminder
her void stupid eyes
Stroke victim
and I feel sorry for her and all but her legs,
so young and tender, they call and call to me
My loins hear it
In the daytime I quiver thinking of her

I am a sick man, A burning man. And my heart has been a
collection plate for way too long
I could ring this woman's bell. Make her feel again.
My head is churning.
I am a hungry, blood pumping machine
The sacrificial son
Give Give Give
Ah, such sweet fuel
You don't know what I've been through, or the
anger that infects me like an ugly smell
So I walk into her room,
and pull the curtain around her bed

and I open the door to the many things wrong with this world