In Accordance with the Dictates of Reason

We dig the trenches… As your soul clenches to your spine Nine lifeless bodies kicked in, Leave the mound of dirt, throw in the shovels Puddles of blood lead to the black hole Containing beings whose lives we stole In a blind sense of violence We sat there in silence.. Filled the pit full of gasoline, as we looked onward as fiends Knowing not of what we’ve done Just wanting to get rid of the gun But it was too late We stayed in a sedated state of stupor, our fingers blistered and our fists tainted with the notions of Satan’s shadow. Why can’t I get these thoughts out of my head? This is Hell. It’s a spell that has been cast upon me for all my sins. For this, evil grins at me as I see a new plague come true, A prophecy, a visionary cavalcade of a revelation Uncertainty and fear steer into stagnation. Populations of unworthy metaphors facilitate While the uniform objections begin to desecrate Violating rights, and endless nights of sweet violence Experiencing a blind anger filled with uncontrollable rage and vibrance I want to get out of here, I have some life to shed In time, gladly looking forward to harboring myself in my death bed I can’t grasp the incoherent and irrelevant, psychological fightings Much like the ramblings you read in these writings