You used to play with words.
You used to dance to the sounds they'd make as they wound their way through the cogs in your brain.

You used to savor the way a juicy one would linger on the tip of your tongue,
while surrendering to the pleasure of a proper pronunciation.

You used to wear your words
as a fashion statement,
the scope and shape of the connotations beneath only ever subtly hinted at;
An enticing invitation to think.

You used to play with your words.
You turned it into an art.
But now you only use them to get something you want.

Bodies fold in this smoulder, emptying the air from out their heads, evacuating the lingering dread that inside they're already dead.
Souls writhe in this disorder, touching anything that they can, reverberating the color red as the blue fire slowly gets colder.
From where
Did this
Empti  
             ness
Find
A wish
That arms
Could bear?
Every atom clashes, and in this disarray, ecstasy establishes a Winter King's reign.
As these fingers touch this skin, reason goes insane. Following the heat, as aimless as the rain.
How
Does one
Conjoined
Within
Reach  
            out
To heal
To mend?

Whispering denials in the grips of evidence,
The body draws to pleasures in lieu of spiritual penance

My bright eyes hide darkness as a shadow in the day
A shadow growing longer
Cast now upon city sidewalks and bank building walls
A shadow of my soul
A face growing weary from the weight of the world
I want to love
But living is hard enough
I've got to lose
I've got to lose

I only know of impossibilities
Just the fact that I breath and I feel
Defies all the logic I knew as a child
But all the wonder is leaving me now
I can only be disillusioned
As eyes see from years of history before
Its a hateful world
Full of failure

My dreams are always strongest when I'm awake
A thought to hold into
When my strong hands need a reason to believe
A thought of morning
A night slowly creeping on vericose veins
I want the day
But my day can seem so long
I've got to lose
I've got to lose

I only know what I'm taught
So teach me not to feel
Let the world I work for
Let these days become unreal
The night is antiquity
Its been around longer than the day
And even the brightest star that shines
Still fades away

If I'm wrong, I die.
I cease to exist.
But I know what it's like not to exist.
Or at least I can imagine.

I didn't exist before I did.
For billions of years.
And Mark Twain was right.
It didn't bother me in the slightest.

But I'll give it a chance.

I will read Awake!
And I'll visit the Hall.
And I'll use your name for God.
Jehovah.

But what if you're wrong?
You feel joy, love, peace.
Meaning, purpose, certainty.
Those things elude me.

But what else?
Fear? Guilt? Isolation?
A hatred that you call pity?
Those things are beyond my reach.

An education cut short?
A marriage too long?
"Don't talk to her.
It's for her own good."

What if it's not?

There will always be people trying to hurt you.
It's easier when they have God on their side.

"Two eyes saw this, but two others did not.
I'll take my reward now.
Did I mention I'm good with kids?"

What if you're wrong?

Sure, your Tower is tall.
It dwarfs my cathedral.
And it does.
I stand in awe.

Your Tower is tall.
It Watches all things.
And it does.
But is it tall enough to see Clearwater?

You know, Celebrity Centers and personality tests.
Cruise and Travolta.
Your names are different: Michael Jackson and Prince.
But the songbook is the same.

Leadership is accountable to no one.
Dissent is a **** that must be eliminated.
The world is out to get you.
And critical thinking is a trap.

Families are vital (until they aren't).
Our authority will not be questioned.
We make no mistakes.
But we do become more perfect over time.

"But it's not 'disconnection,' it's disfellowship.
And they're not 'suppressives,' they're apostates.
And we live in no bubble.
But we'd rather not debate you."

"Besides, they're new.
They're small and they're few.
They have strange beliefs.
That's what matters, right?"

But it's not.
It's not what matters.

And it's not in my nature to hurt people.
I can **** when it's justified.
But I don't know that this is justified.

And consider the life of a poor, worldly soul.
Fear is no friend.
Guilt is a memory.
(Guilt for things that warrant no guilt.)

We see the world as it is.
Science is no threat.
Solitude is a choice, not a lesson.

Education is full.
Abuse is reported.
Families talk.

We are slaves to no Slave.

Of course these things are foreign to you.
Your book precludes them.
And your book is infallible.
But so are all the others.

So thank you for visiting, but I'm hedging my bets.
I wish you the best, but I'd rather take death.