Dirty Bomb

 
Looking for the words to say what I cannot say
Implications of associations in the undercurrent of self exploitation
The vulnerability of an unsung confession

You do not know what stares you in the face
When heart beats unseen
I ache in silence and keep my secrets
You don’t know me but for the symptoms
I am like the wind, a torrential downpour

I am haunted by ghosts living in cycles of grief for the hells that are the delicacies of devils
I am lethal but I am sick
Heal the affliction of my own venom
Is wrath the only cure left for those we deem the unforgiven

Fire for the blood bath of the illusion of our innocence
Laying claims to divine exoneration on the means of a guilty plea
I’ve got blood on my hands but I’m absolved on the terms of this noble suicide
When a lesson in dying is a lesson in learning how to breathe

No way to live with myself, only the hope of true denial
Killing off the lusts that make the mind a dirty bomb steeped in the affairs of a technophile

Fantasy’s allure
All sight without touch
Lines obscured, fade out and blur
I can only play the fool for so long and lie to myself but just so much

It’s all on TV in the relegated roles of real life casts
Bodies feast to eye candy consumers that never lasts
Another cavity to suffice a bittersweet heart
Striking nerves so carelessly till I go numb and restart

I am a glutton for suffering till it becomes a flavorless indulgence I endear
The pain is never enough to feed the appetites of a relived trauma in the shape of shame
Writing my sins in an aim to be free of this part of me I fear
How do I lose myself when I cannot escape my name?

Justifications of our stories when we’re veterans of this spiritual war
Bankrupt the benefits of welfare mercy
I am vagabond wandering aimlessly in these circles I cannot endure
Compassions taken advantage of till my own ways come back to hurt me

I am a broken home
An orphan heart
A monster in the closet of my childhood…