the toll of demise

In masses they call from the temples for    
me to bide into six shades of creations    
laid out along screams inhaled from the crow  
of an wicked fear of passion long from the pain  
   
Where I wake morning from a sleep based in  
nightmares of demons dressed as half bred children  
Addressing hunger from the pain the night painted  
in dark shades of serenity as the church's brunt  
the nameless paragons with hails of a pastor's voice  
blown along the disection of demi-god's. ..  
   
   
There my name begin too  taste of sour will as my six  
cages of suicidal shepherds smeared their blood  
along my podium built with dog wood brought to me by three imbicls  
Crying that I'm not Jesus , as so I bathe in matter of omnious  
cries calling out as morning has straddle the skin of my teeth  
where demons tattooed a penagram all hail to the king  
   
   
Yet the calls were wasted , the cries lost still the    
whispers of prayers convicted my dull sense    
of falling in a spiral of worldly loss of guidance    
among frustrated revelation    
Left for me to read six chapters six psalms six voices    
lost in the night before I am dressed in only makeup