Stroking The Noose

Addiction sucks.

Socks sodden by the purging of frustration
The afterglow beholden to the want of elation
Living in darkness, hiding the errant vocation
But eternal eyes have no need for shift rotation
So he stands naked, asking for the condemnation
Like the final judgment, unquenched conflagration
For dividing the holy state of harmonized consecration
There is no congressional medal of commendation
Just sorely remake that cracked concrete foundation
Through the blood shed for collective salvation

And so he mulls fretfully about the condition
There no is context to concoct this rendition
Like chronic pain, that recurring affliction
There is a new valued coefficient of friction
Like a recurring decimal, there is no prediction
He signed over the keys, given notice of eviction
Yet he forgets that otherworldly jurisdiction
Manned by the judge that lived after crucifixion
Found guilty of neglect, of husbandly dereliction
Simply by stroking the noose called addiction

Reviews

[Nobody.]

oof. good. powerful. true.