Born to…

Born to… what?
Between each small life and Eternity,
The treadmill of the soul.

suits you

Love how your cap fits;
How it sits,
Fixed on the bias.
You’ve got that I’m a quirky rebel thing going on.
It suits you. Have you tried a thinking one?

Overkill

They built the stage and you came.
[By any other name you’d will it.]

Wish your fill.
Mine salt for your visionary tears.
Let them spill in the trenches
And build banks of rage. They will come.

And you have to go over the top.
And you had to go over the top.

A world at your fingertips;
Hell on the tip of your tongue.

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god-less

God of the mind in a stupid man
Is a restless demon in his hands.
No more, no less, the same effect
Where a godless fool, in kind, reflects.

Being Lammas

Desire knows sacrifice
Victory understands
To thine own kingdom, come

 

Blessings of Lughnasadh to you xXx