Make it death, a damn promise, everyone trying to outwit her.
So low at the bar, arguing heart, so many demons.
Life wasn’t at it, doves at science, like a miracle we understand.
To transcend it, to believe it, ultimately, to semi-define it.
18 in age, looped out, pieces came together, swore to God, I saw him.
To know by consciousness, what in Christ can’t be mentioned, a problem for
sentience.
The story is sad, the truth hurts, major freebasing; liquor pacing, buttons for madness, too much heart, and Snags died.
To imagine going through it, no freedom, forced to ride a 12-year beginning.
Through miseries, at the séance, giving something to believe in, giving life, the mystery defined. Where to turn, bathing in a sink, pegged, glorious deaths?
They speak about sharks, I knew a few, rules debating skies, a Job asking God.
We don’t say, mother. We don’t fathom father.
Like an immortal mistake. Too many buttons. It takes brilliance not to go crazy.
Life keeps coming. We hate parts of ourselves. We seldom understand
survival.
And what is religion? What piano are we keying?
