Ringing loud like distant thunder a fall from grace comes down from under fireflies beneath the sky glimmer glammer radio waves and neon nights.
There were days on end that stretched for miles blood stains painted on lenolium tiles a hammer comes down without a sound with no remorse upon the crown.
Vanity insanity the need to purge what’s inside of me my silohette betrays hidden intentions buried deep within my fractal mind set.
The gospel of Judas as told by Iscariot the love of a man the heart of a harlot I am the knowing and pain the cost of shame to stand upon your mantle of blame.
Possession repression is nine tenths of the law sprinkled with Holy water for the cause the voices inside my head recall a fever a burning through the withdrawal before the final fix.
Broken bound the laugh of a clown the voyuer watches my actions diligently from a passing car television screen the greater the itch the more I let in these tired thirsty veins.
Purgetory suburban stories murderers and saints destroying character witnesses vying for attention masquerading deception while broadcasting on the eleven o’clock weekend news.
Tijuana moltov cocktail sauce the last thing she felt before the squeeze of a trigger I felt it call out “Now” then pow then with a thud to the ground I spent two years in the hole framed by a demon in my soul self medicated excorsism morphine and whiskey shots in an effort to purge myself to freedom before written and spoken word.
*(Matthew bowers)* ~93
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The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 