His relentless search for a lover
Has left nothing inside of him
But an empty noise of rejection, heartbreak and a taste for alcohol, pathetic.
Masturbating under the low light of his cell phone was his final call in the night.
Drinking and hoeing was a lifeboat that seemed to have kept him afloat all this time
Away from the chemical shipwreck that is his life.
Night in and night out he curses the blessing that is his name
His blessing was he could write this as a poem,
And his curse was the sound of the broken hearts that he stole
the hearts that were too fragile for his child-like hands
the vulnerable hearts that did not belong to him.
His hatred for himself swims inside of him, where he constantly drowns in it
Defining his life.
On this particular night, he questions the love of God to the blankness of the sky
The clouds seemed to have marginalized him, to an offense
And so, he yelled to the sky “what does it take to please you! We follow your rules and we break your rules but we still lose! It does not matter if you are a winner, it does not matter if you are a saint, nobody can win so what is the point? What is the freaking point!?”
Of-course his ego was too big to accept a lie than the truth of divine love, love for what? To suffer meaninglessly?
He, on the contrary, believes that God is God and the devil his shadow, plus they are both divided by him,
And so stuck between reaching out for God with one hand, and his other having a hold on the addictive tumultuous life that he made,
He ultimately mimicked the shape that crucified the lord.
Welcome to the Pornography of a half-lived life.
©prince_sbu
P