Hands to your side, nothing could be as redundant as the temperature rises with each and every sorry step. Her laugh steadily haunts your very existence, but relief shall redeem your lofty mistakes in the liquid form that can heal like holy water. Grasping onto God as he lies curled up in your lent filled pocket, the mystery of faith spins out of control to the sway of the owl above. The fire of hell lingers behind your bloodshot eyes, but not to worry, she'll be there as a melodic memory that sings out of tune.
Dressed to kill, a single button on your vest leaves your array of confidence; it remains as an unwanted reminder of the loveless wasteland that stays alive like a petal in the wind. The glamor has vanished so easily, but fake a rancid smile to shake their justified lifestyles. As her image chooses to rest on the faces that pass by, you notice they cling onto the intoxication of their ravished hopes and dreams. Downtown never felt so alive, yet the angels of the night torment your full bodied structure, this is it. The war between love and hate rages underneath the temple of your time-wrinkled heart.
Time stabs the back seven times before a realization occurs standing in front of the window at the closed record store. Shut your eyes son, but count the beads on that damn rosary, just let go. Clenching my dry hands as tight as a child would hold his mother's warm embrace, a frantic chill overwhelms the boiling blood to a complete stall, but my heart has never burned so uncomfortably bright. The heavens commence to display a violent yet refreshing show of rain and lightning which bring the blind indoors. Brought to the door of a small bar on the dark side of town, I enter with the knowledge that Jesus is absent within these dented walls. Indirect snarls and demonic grunts of the oppressed echoes in my frustrated soul as I make my way to the never ending bar.
Just one drink to kill the demon infestation within that plays a mental recording of pain and regret like a slide show that never stops. Entwined with the way she laid my justice bed, I hold back the salty streams, for my pride is all that simply remains. As every taste bud is corrupted with the alcohol that passes through, my face frantically cringes with satisfaction and grief. Smelling that familiar scent, I spin around on the bar stool in a desperate attempt to apologize for being myself. Nothing is here to save me tonight.
The silhouette of a man plays a tear jerking song on his love with its keys of ivory, but pride fights the battle with every lyric that empties my scarred and scattered bones. One insignificant drink turns to six hopeless cups of sorrow. Half the man I used to be, I count time backwards in hope to go back to where I started.
The haze of the bar lights glaze over my adolescent eyes, but this time it's different. Accepting my eternity, I know where I am going. I stumble intoxicated and alone towards the dirty bathroom in the back to be with my untold stories in peace. Down on one knee in a stall which will soon be my grave, I let it out as soon as I have absolute clearance. This homeless heart is useless but is admirable for its vision of the rapture. Shackled and imprisoned to the girl who still has my heart like a ball and chain, I helplessly ask Jesus to give me the connection to his father above. Buried in the distortional bowl of waste, I pray for his blood to drown the monsters that's has consumed me for so many long filled years. With stomach in knots and feelings torn into pieces, a blackout shocks my world. In the glorious sea of light, I know I will feel no more. But now is not my time. Golgatha is now my home.