Number Four

A(rro)gÆnce

Days, days, and days of lust,
some demon cries within my mind.
Some twin paradise of seperate
moral centers. An elliptical
conscience cannot persist
under strain.

Dissonance and deadly frequencies;
Riot over Rites, masturbation
into states of drunken guilt.
Addiction to some dark drug
to dull subconscious pain.

Lemmings fall, I am (where)
rem[(Is)o(the)r]se[(ma)l?]essness.

Defiler

Wicked man,
I am a wicked, wicked man,
perverse, ignorant, arrogant,
and deaf to all things not of me.

What business have I in
this sanctuary of life?
What purpose, other than pain?

On the Bema:
Will my life be consumed by fire?
Will my eyes, become transparent
at last,
and I, when it matters most,
Will I have nothing to hide behind?

This is...
This is hubris.
This is vice.
This is the way the world ends.
These are vacant lots.
This is Adam's curse.
This is...

Death.