IN THROAT THERE RESIDES HORROR

THE soul is dying and there’s no Christ
to save you//the roads are littered with
bits and pieces of memories of what was
the gutters are clogged with the spent
Spirits of the living and a dark wind
blows// with a government so corrupt
and we stand listening to the broadcasts
on tv and internet radio to realize we’re all
trapped within the gut of a bizzare machine
and we’re dying together with the falling
sun and overgrown flags and our hopes
i held the hand of my lover wishing saying
“kiss me” to release this dream of a fever
and she took my love one last time
we are the generation of chance
where the dice fall is only by God’s hand
:: 09-11-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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