Stuck in a sadists dream,
My only wish was to die
in the grip of love but blew it
out in the flash of a .45
The Wretched; I hate them, I hate them
A cigarette here ready to light
A bullet and a shot of smack
These days of daring adventure
Acid in the sunshine
Windows and rules in the rain
I hate them, I hate them
I have never seen an angel
Nor have I seen a miracle
But there is a girl that I know
I have fallen in love with
Nuclear scavengers, rusty spikes
I hate them, I hate them
Observation; a candid account
This is what I did...
down there in Hell
A portrait I can never finish
All these brushes; shape color size
I hate them, I hate them
This here day is no holiday
No sanctuary secure
A time of anguish on our hands; blood
On our knees for forgiveness
God and his angels...
I hate them, I hate them
Him God is the serpent
Him Death holds happiness in his coat
No lonely demons to speak of
Just leashed happiness awaiting the next traveler
Visions of fiction characters
I hate them, Oh how I hate them
---------------------------
A poem I wrote a couple years back for a dearly departed friend (written from his perspective) who shot himself at the beginning of 2003. He was a good man but filled with even greater sadness...he was father and was set to be married soon (I still communicate with his surviving girlfriend). He also was a heroin addict. He was a good friend and I hated to see him go. I watch his daughter grow and think of everything that he is missing that he would've loved so much...We miss him more than he thought we would.
My only wish was to die
in the grip of love but blew it
out in the flash of a .45
The Wretched; I hate them, I hate them
A cigarette here ready to light
A bullet and a shot of smack
These days of daring adventure
Acid in the sunshine
Windows and rules in the rain
I hate them, I hate them
I have never seen an angel
Nor have I seen a miracle
But there is a girl that I know
I have fallen in love with
Nuclear scavengers, rusty spikes
I hate them, I hate them
Observation; a candid account
This is what I did...
down there in Hell
A portrait I can never finish
All these brushes; shape color size
I hate them, I hate them
This here day is no holiday
No sanctuary secure
A time of anguish on our hands; blood
On our knees for forgiveness
God and his angels...
I hate them, I hate them
Him God is the serpent
Him Death holds happiness in his coat
No lonely demons to speak of
Just leashed happiness awaiting the next traveler
Visions of fiction characters
I hate them, Oh how I hate them
---------------------------
A poem I wrote a couple years back for a dearly departed friend (written from his perspective) who shot himself at the beginning of 2003. He was a good man but filled with even greater sadness...he was father and was set to be married soon (I still communicate with his surviving girlfriend). He also was a heroin addict. He was a good friend and I hated to see him go. I watch his daughter grow and think of everything that he is missing that he would've loved so much...We miss him more than he thought we would.
