Another trip into the bubbling ether of conscience, a mind-bending toward the fatal scent of freedom. Lest we crash this spiral heart upon rocks stained with sin, we too shall seek the limits of our destiny, a pioneer in the golden depths of courage and light.
To seduce my passion from this colorful prism, a sunset bleeding beyond naked horizons of ice, an ocean melting in the depths of your weeping eyes. I was frozen once, a mindless pagan set adrift, unbound by remorse in a raging symphony of faith. My body was crushed, a feeble horseman buckling under the weight of yesterday, a crumbling rose stolen from a grave filled with promises.
No wiser to the truth, I continue to circle this empty drain, a cliché life spent on bullshit and misery, a trophy smile for friends who sharpen my blade with jealousy. Yes, I am shallow, a dirty thief who plays with money, a scolded dog licking a thousand feral wounds.
When the echoes of math have proven nothing beyond zero, a fleeting shadow will comfort my rage, a surging whistle ignited by grieving atoms. My focus will be infinite, a tender burst of sparks and rapid-fire conviction, a divine hammer left by the hands of God. This is my scripture, a new skin as I enter into wrath, a dense particle set to implode with mercy…
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Becoming Wrath is a metaphor for destructive souls. It is the acknowledgment of sinister beings accepting their nature, embracing a downward spiral into absolute ego.
Art Blacktooth is a creative surgeon. He dabbles in literature, photography and illustration and lives in sunny Florida. His goals are to blend his unique flavor of poetry with abstract visuals, to share and inspire new ways for expressing prose...