Spit and Piss

these depths,
curling up inside,
already burning on crosses
they've built of dry timber,
etching out the means,
to feed humanity.

God give me the will,
to perish before I get,
to see the innocent rot.

I doubt my wishes will be granted (I've already seen it).

these depths,
hold secrets,
funneled into the darkest portions
of small intestines,
clutter the mess,
in piss and shit,
only to be revealed,
in the vowels rolling
off your tongue.

I hear the voices,
trembling spirits,
giving ghosts,
haunting sermons.

and in our darkest days, you'll always have complaints.

in these depths,
chastised servants,
bound by intelligence,
hands tied tight in knots,
un-bow their legs
so they may walk,
un-bound their mouths,
so they may speak,
lift the weight from their chests,
so they may breath,
or do you fear the,
plagues they would release.

I feel the hands,
grasping for the sun,
digging at the earth,
howling at the moon.

it's a daunting task to live a life of captivity, servility, sterility.

in these depths,
darkest trenches of war,
we pay to cum,
we kill the seed,
we spread freedom (?),
no atheists,
in foxholes,
no fear of death,
in the forgetful mind,
and I hear them in my sleep,
screaming through the pain,
and I hear that loud crack,
to ease their way to oblivion.

Even in my dreams,
they're their,
waiting for,
meaning.

Goodnight dear, Goodbye, to the smell of spit and piss,
overtaking me.