I find myself.

With a paddle for a boat
And two coats of mail, well pressed,
He crossed to curse the blessed whale
For its bale, and death most unkind.
Nowadays, you find yourself only lost.

Godd Friday

They say that the next three days are so special that one could almost survive a crucifixion. What then with a little rain...or the grey wind... or that cold grime that seeps inside my skin?

Is one good phrase worth its shitty paragraph
Or a lifetime of filth one second of perfect beauty?
Where is truth here, within what husk, and what chaff
Why is it gone, while I keep threshing what mortal duty?

Alive. at last.

God was dead. Man was dead. The devil, gone. And there she stood, under the tree of life, with the head of a sphinx, and a body made for mortal sin. In her womb she would lay the seeds of death. Time. 6:16. 50 minutes. I will be home.

The answered Question

You loved me for a lie and left me for another
Although neither one was any better than the other.
Although in substance no different, one was termed
A snake, while the other, as king and crown, withered.
Tell me then, when sisters lie in turns, is it the full worm
Or empty ring that makes one a whore, one, mother?
Every fool has his part to play; I put my face
As best as it fits, and we sing and strut in mocked disgrace
All smiles then, although we can neither love, nor leave.