Redemption for the Past
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Tick
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Trapped in a prison of twitching limbs,
Hands jerking, circular, contemporary pins.
Uneasy eyes illuminate the dark halls,
Screaming, twilight smiles haunt the walls.
Huge corners of a tiny room, an unending gloom,
Etched graffiti cites the inhabitants doom.
Behind my left calf, life stirs, my legs dangle,
Top bunk peering through the obstructed black angle.
The past plays on the nights blank canvas,
Life is but a second in retrospect, ludicrous.
My future is here, but in order for that to exist,
The past must be dismissed, the lies must be kissed...
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Tock
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I suppose one must redempt for the past?
Killing a young boy, I guess my time won't just pass.
Yet there has been no occurence, only design,
I'm waiting for him to calmly sit down and resign.
My eyes waver, shaking erratically in their cage,
The bars are ticking once more, time feels the rage.
My feet cannot find a surface to support, scratching the air,
Locking my joints into unnatural positions, thoroughly bare.
Sitting I stare, little could break this noisy silence,
Nothing could break this breakable, meak violence.
I'm an oxymoron etched into the wall, a human contradiction,
I'm your idea's your desires, except with the conviction.
One with this earth, one with your dreams, one with all,
I'm God's predecessor, waiting patiently for his withdrawal.
Nervous laughter feigns comfort, scratching the light orbs,
Leaving shadows within the source of light's absorb.
Do I make much sense to you? Am I but a thought, a passing comment?
Or am I the manifestation of hundreds of years of mis-intent.
CULMINATING, amalgamating, insinuating, corrupting,
Disrupting, or am I just a happy thought unravelling.
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Tick
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Possibly my home in the future, probably an identical one to this,
Free for me, yet to those who I harm's highest expense.
They cannot live without me, I'm their rock upon which they support,
Yet I'm their scourge, their sickness, forming an unending rapport.
Depressing I'm sure as most paradoxical situations prevail,
I'm the wood to their coffin, and this was the last nail.
But if I have not murdered him yet, why am I imprisoned?
Why do his family insist to be overcome with misery's incision.
He sits below me, yet I sit within me, next to my concious,
He's crying tears of deep, deep, sorrow's awareness.
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Tock
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Mind meets matter as the power dims, guards leave,
My prey is here, and his prey is here, and yet his prey is me.
But how is he after another who is him, because I am him?
No reason to laugh again, cry again, for the lights are dim.
God's mistakes grow inanely plain, for we are all linked,
So how can we murder another and they be lost and leaked.
Lies unravel, sighs grow narrow, the ticking stops shallow,
Peering back the walls dissolve, the night pierces into tomorrow.
Lying up in a cold sweat... It was a dream... Looking painfully left,
A body of a boy, his parents crying in the Police syrens... I'm adept.
A premonition to give me redemption for my past, for that is my future,
This story of nonsense is forever etched into non-existent pewter.
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...Sing a song for me, Existence's Enemy...
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Oh, and I'm back... Trying something new.
Peace
