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Surviving; The Ordinary
No dream machine to compose the
subconcious, nor weary to fall in a
deep slumber; numbers vary from
zero to emptiness...
Visions are mutual, reflections under
the sun become my view in every
direction there is only one way; a
compass does no good...
Liberated from cause, prisoner of
reason; a melancholy spirit seeks
no aid as it conformes with the
night and the children of the corn...
Virtue is found in the lips of death,
yet seeks no comfort from its kiss;
a death wish is not necessary...
One by one mankind will fall and
beg for forgiveness; there is no
forgiveness, there is no salvation
from fate and destiny--
Money has no value for a soul that
critics the root of all evil-
Resurrection from the ashes of my
city; rebirth of a Phoenix with wings
of an Archangel torn from Gabriel's
back...Michael laughs, devilishly.
Heaven on earth is Xibalba; the
pearly gates burn in flames of
disobedience; concuvines reside in
the celestial palace of gold,
diamonds, and pearls;
Jesus is tempeted again with a
passion...details are found in the
Book of Enoch; stories by the
SoulKritic, you can label them fables
like the one you just read.
copyright2013 #soulkritic
