War with myself

I've prayed upon the weary hour
And still my mind preys on me
In darkness when even the Lord would sleep
I'm fated to entreat the devil.

He comes as any demonic presence
Clothed in the raiment of lust
And in his kingdom of darkness he reins
To dirty my soul like rust

And clothed in blood I beseech my god
To rid me of sinful thoughts
And all my life's transgressions soil me
I lay me down like dust to dust.

Forgive o Lord my folly and wickedness
that I might yet be free
Stop this burning in my chest
And put out the fires that ignite me.

O God of Abraham and Isaac who begat
And begat and begat and begat
Free me from the tools of that
So I might live to serve in abstention

You've done it a few times but I lack retention
I want to win big and not be an honorable mention.

The savage awakens

The beast in me arises with the moon:
That ravenous, aching, unforgiving tune
That sings within me to be within you-
As I become we and split open you.

And feral hunger drives me in deeper
Like a creeping vine binding us
I consume your soul like the reaper
And eat your lust with foul unrepentant savagery.

Life is given to the living and yet I,
Consume with all viciousness like a dead man in hell
Thrusting and grinding all skin till it's red
Into the innocent, milk white bed-

O the vile and wild full throbbing desecration
Mixed in with such negligent, savage elation
Higher life forms should never so vehemently indulge
And yet as the moon unfolds-
Perhaps the tides-
Perhaps barometric pressure-
Perhaps simple animal nature tucked away in the human psyche
No longer able to be repressed
I collapse in an infinite reverberating mess
With you at my side
And you know the rest.

The dogs of war have fated warriors fight
Those who don't are doomed to repeat this night.

Adulthood

Sometimes the rays of sunshine fade
When the day turns to dusk too early
And those who once had found their way
Wander aimlessly in a seasonally changed place.

Impermanence and cold is winter
And sometimes mute in the evening's glow
Oh how I long for the dead time when-
I walked home under yellow Street lamps in snow.

There were days when a journey had two points
And there was yet somewhere else to go
Yet here I stand waiting, telling jokes to quell the din
And waiting another day to know-

All good fun comes to an end
And even in the mind adventure eventually dies.