The Truth

I see the demons swimming at the bottom of my glass;

Jesting and jeering me as I swallow the rest.

And I feel them tumble down my exposed throat,

Kicking and screaming in their descent

Until they land in the flaming pit of my stomach.

Feeling them inside me, running amuck.

Like a growing fetus in the womb, they feed upon my hatred.

Suckling on the tits of my own humiliation.

They are the weeds that push through my subconscious mind,

Planting the seeds of doubt into every unborn dream of mine.

And the sad reality is that I come crawling back for more abuse;

Drinking another bottle as I have come to know as the bitter truth.

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In the Image of a God

statue

O God of my Gods, I praise you so!

As I draw closer to you, I can see

You standing tall and full of ambition.

Your hair encircles your youthful visage.

Your eyes alight with an age old wisdom.

Your lips are sensual and supple

Like that of a blossoming scarlet rose.

Your shoulders, austere and commanding.

Your strong hands ready to shape the future

And move the very mountains on which you stand.

Kissing your feet in adoration,

I see your towering divinity

Loom above me in god-like splendor.

You are all that I yearn to become.

You are the paragon of perfection.

I see a shadow of myself within

Those sapient eyes, those pensive lips,

Those powerful hands; the very essence

Of virility coursing through your veins.

I feel your presence within me and for

Just one moment, you and I, are one.