Dump my body on the steps of Capitol Hill
They know what they did

Know that I didn’t go silently
Know that I was biting, scratching, fighting the whole way down

Seek justice, not vengeance
Vengeance is only for my soul to reap
Do not give them any peace
Rest should not come to them, for it will not come to me

If it was one, pay them some heed, it takes a great effort to break me
If it was many, shame them forever
Only cowards and fools need a mob to succeed

Take time to mourn,
There is great power in feeling
Then rise up, up,
And fight like hell for the living

if you look at humility as humiliation
take this into consideration
if you enter conversations
and need some celebration
maybe it's your expectations
that need a little changing

Wrath

No matter what I do or say,
I’m never enough, always a step away.
I try to keep up, wear myself thin,
But all I feel is the burn within.
If I could change, I swear I would,
But trying and failing still hurts, as it should.


Pride

In the mirror, I see a man undone,
Not proud, but broken, the lesser one.
No arrogance here, no smug facade,
Only a soul bruised, and left flawed.
Superior? No, I shrink from the view,
Hating myself far more than I do you.


Lust

Lust is a sneaky, seductive beast,
I’ve given in, but found no feast.
Those urges led to hollow roads,
But I broke free, shed those heavy loads.
Desire comes, but I’ve learned to be,
Unshackled, with a heart finally free.


Greed

I once held tight, refusing to share,
The world was mine, I didn’t care.
But time changed me, and now I see,
Greed’s lost its hold, no longer on me.
My hand is now open, I’ve learned to give,
Unburdened, I can finally live.


Envy

I used to ache for someone's life,
Trapped in longing, never satisfied.
Why not me? I’d wonder and weep,
Until something shifted, I could sleep.
Now I’m a man content with less,
Grateful in ways I never confess.


Gluttony

Food may not be my chosen vice,
I’ve drowned in pleasures, paid the price.
It is but the need to fill,
The endless void that lingers still.
This hunger for escape, it eats away,
But I know its tricks, it's clear as day.


Sloth

I set my goals, yet never reach,
Room to grow, but I don’t breach.
I drift through days, no purpose found,
A ghost in waiting, with silent sound.
What is my worth, what should I be?
I ache for meaning, to finally see.

With a broad chest
a ******* tongue
beautiful feathers, a hot breath
and a forked tongue
they live on our skin

We little ***** rats in the eyes
of the screaming crowd
that rattles the fences
in the zoo, the cages
in which we are trapped

The gorillas who clear the way
the hyena who says she is helping
the peacock who dresses our hair
the dragon for our image and
the hissing of the tour manager

Don't step on their tails
and don't feed them, please
Just let their airs
explode, no more ground
beneath their feet

Forsaken anew; / failure’s company
Saturnine, my soul; / assurance broken
Order to chaos; / fractured symmetry
Alone with failure / Hope was yet token

Blood in the mirror / oozing lethargy
The instrument held / in the victim’s hand
Lambasted pride’s pith; / pain the elegy
Drip down, down to dirt; /soul’s vice reprimand

The high price paid for / blind cowardice proud
To slough shamed sin sets /my soul to quail
Failure to stop pride; /sanguine stained I stand
My blood measures short, /to sin-siege, I fail

But God is faithful, / redeemer belov’d
His blood ransomed me; /Praise to Him who loves

What's the difference?

If any then there's plenty

Of many tears shared

Wear none of the brand labor

All my **** was hand me down

Thundercats drawers brawling in the halls

Four in the afternoon call for a ride home

Having poured from my cup a better potion

Love is a mixture of pain

Fed through a line in my vain

Of in these waken hours

Haveing to make believe in a convenient lie told

It's the old routine of long rides on short bus

Pride is usually just some cheap trinket pull out of pockets and shown

Once had a colorful backpack that had a blue dinosaurs on it with sunglasses

There was no running in the hall

A converted stager closet was my homeroom

The Image stuck in my head of bottles label with crossbones in the corner

The owners of what will become my inherit hurt

It not worth much these days

Said an old Jewish man at the pawn shop

He told me of the fights he once had in his front lawn as a boy

And sold me a toy gun

I talk funny and was thought of as queer

Left here cause I wasn't right

Led to believe that my existing was the product of American greatness

Said that if this was China I would be abraded at the age of twelve

If ever you could be love without never wanting to know pain

They mainstream you

Pick you first for their team

You ask a girl out on a whim

Her words wasn't meant to be kind

You hide behind head nods

Finding excuses not to read out loud

Used the one where there's something in your eye

And in the boys stall you stood till they call upon who ever next

Backwards written text

You're package as special

Lucky if you meet minimum wage of the age eighty

Taught by teachers that we was the product of crack fiends parents

Why even bother with college?

The fatherless ******* of slaves owners

A truth known to whites and blacks alike

Those of who you claim lack your intellect

Tell of none of my hurt

A lone inhabitant of a bitter earth

I bit of it sour fruit

Pour a cup of tea

That was neither hot or cold

I hold it to my lips

It not warmth or comfort I seek

But rather an uninvited truth

All that's known are the inherit lies of a puppet frog

For I am not the owner of sorrow but rather the borrower

Waiting for tomorrow as it only a day away

Who might I be then

A me that's slow but yet still flow from a stream out into a river

For I am the son who's the giver of his mother love

None of your words will be the sum of my faults

The vault that seal such memories that pain

And the healing words of a cartoon turtle

No matter how slow I travel I near ever closer in my journey

Pride is a wilted flower
You are that wilted flower.
Basking in the sun of infallibility,
Your roots were planted in the garden of ego Which has now led to your demise.
Once filled with the essence of life,
Your petals were choked by your own ambition
As you grew to be too close to the sun.
Your bloom was a symbol of beauty,
Whispering notions of hope and strength
Though now nature has punished your delusions.
And the soil you thought to be self-respect
Has betrayed you
And the sun that once was your fuel
Has scarred you.

Your dress was plum;
although, my fantasies remember Maroon.
Dancing in God’s house, you moved like scripta,
and I burned like the sinner’s hands.
Had you blushed near me again, I was going
to hold it against myself.

Thrice removed
(grief-stricken) and held against him,
I am empty of you.

But not yet extinguished from your singe of interest,
of your reading me like The Price of Salt.
Wondering, suppose I call, if your
arrival would be the difference of a few vowels.
Divine intervention, master of my curiosity,
I spend my evenings drunk on forbidden fruits.

Pardon my chaos talking in triangles–
of lust’s longing in color–
our tortured poet already said it best.