Schedualed outrage

Scream for the sinners
the saints have ran for hell's gates.
They've left me to crash
naked on the shore
gasping and swallowing
water into my lungs.
Breaking and beating
like the newborns,
alone and unsure.
I've cast my line towards the undertow
drawing me swiftly into the horizon
Seated at the right hand of the father
and forever rising in the east.

Stiff knees

My eyes locked with his as my thin shoulder hit broken pavement. Shattering my hopes of freedom into pieces. Even my delicate hands could not repair the sadness I coughed up. The devil raged in his dialated pupils. Summoning a punch stronger than his fist could've produced. Knuckle to my jaw. Forcing me into my place, once again.

August 19, 2007