Mania The Beautiful
- Caleb Voyles
- Jun 14, 2020
- 1 min read
Mania, mania, mania!
The manic mind is a ticking bomb, a distortion field, a salving balm.
Here I lie in the cold dim light with eaten out liver and slicing rhyme.
Save me from this worm-eaten mind, the beckoning call, the self-devouring life.
I hear your distorted muffled call demanding my focus and my splayed open soul.
I will drown my vessel and mind, prevent my focus, and ignore your call.
My lips now wet, my mind awhirl. Whatever it takes I will not hear.
Damn you devil, release my soul! Get thee behind me and leave me in this hole!
I do not want this life.
Let me return to the womb, my one safe refuge, my only home.
I wish not to live; it was better to the taste when it was just a dream.
Sorrow, hatred, and terror fill me whole. Give me my revenge or let me sleep forevermore.
Burning, droning, mind split asunder…
Step back Archangel, you’re blinding me!
I hear your booming call, and sigh with succumbing. Yes, I will listen now my soul.
If enough liquor could drown you I would, if enough sin could kill you I’d know, but here you stand still judging, still reaching, still pulling.
What you are can not be cast out.
What you call I can not unhear.
What you want I must surrender.
O’ Angel of Death, face of God, I will walk your damned path.
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