Twitch... Of Dreams

Dear God, Tomorrow I might die, So tonight I write to she who waits...

Dearest Death

Sorting through evil,

     No one will sort through the evils I've written once the epitaph reads incinerated, Rime of lost words shall freeze over my eulogy until an age when the decrepit curse of honour matters once more. 

     An hour pledged but viewed as a curse, End of days Biblical fortune Tellers neglect the mention of comfort, No one to hold the dying's hand, No one to slit the throat of a perpetually raped sexual trafficked victim, No one to quench the insatiable thirst of greed's one street margins, No Father to knight the children buried under tons of refuse; their fate locked away as one without a serenade...

     I curse my left wrist until it heals... Then I unleash the storm upon the right! Bleed I must until the throat of God bares a scar...! Forsake us all or bring remedy to the wishes of equality. Are you Almighty...? Or just another invisible idle once served...?

    God learnt to betray early, Son of a virgin left to die, Curse of the Red Right Hand, No amount of crimson shall sate the epidemic of the vermilion vengeance storm His will sought.

    How unreal, The twilight realm of a profitable age where dreams no longer mattered, Long distance phone calls from the past, We bestowed grace upon their memory as we remembered, Despite the visions we never forgave & never forgot, Wishes of the past manifest themselves in moments of fate, We remain still as our pacified will rarely wakes, Save in the face of death...

    Oh hopeless endeavour of dreams, Grace upon ourselves for forgetting to live, Carpe diem's curse stole too many years from our youth, Sadness brought upon us tolerance of Greed's glittery paper plague over our lives, Nothing now reminds our will of dreams save dying.

    I watched the status' upload of my so called contemporary age timeline, Witnessed the mistakes of ignorant pacifism & the tortures of greed, Nothing held humanity back so much as comfort... Debt until death we sought no dreams but the moments slumber.

In earnest anticipation of,
VoT