This House Is Not A Home - Vesuvius

Ive reached the Crux

With bent and pissonant faith

The cripping violence in my calm

Allocates

No Escape

Discourse, Disharmony

Subdued in a blink and dreamless sleep

Grandeur AND Larceny

The Volatile becomes my verity

Desaturate these dismal eyes

Clot the flux to my cortex

Conceal the maelstorm inside

I still discearn the scars of your abandonment

Mother where has the sun gone

Cause this old soul has felt far too cold

For too long

And ill wait through the darkest winter

My brittle bones buried in the creases of your bed

And ill wait six feet under

For you to come home

To speak my name AGAIN

Ive come to find my depth

My place of solace

My place of rest

A skeleton drowning in the tips of your shadow

My lapen conscience eviscerated and hollowed

Disperse these umbral skies

Betrieve my inherited demons

So i can sleep at night

And ill wait

Through the darkest winter

My brittle bones buried in the creases of your bed and Ill wait six feet under

For you to come home

To speak my name AGAIN

I found God in my sleep last night

In a place so vast, a space so dark

A void I’d crawl into

On the premise that i would NEVER awake

And we spoke.

Oh, we spoke endlessly.

Blissfully of nothing.

His words were DEAFENING.

His words we silent defiant of my notoriety.

Violent as my nature, and quiet as my thought.

His quivers ripple through the seams of my anatomy.

His words shattered my ribecage, distructive as my subconscious.

And i looked into his eyes an ounce short of conviction and said that DON’T

WANT TO DIE.

With affirmation he stated that i find death in the darkest corners of the

greatest perhaps.

And to find myself, i must have faith in that.

Return me to the empty house

In which i grew

Where i would converse with ghosts

A crawl space with a roof

And I know that I don’t know who

The voice that calls from the other end pertains to

But i remember in my solitude

You were there too

FATHER

Where has the light fled?

A broken boy beaten and crucified at the hands of your surrogate

With the remains os this vessel

I will submerge my contempt

This repression is a loaded GUN

Ive cut the Flux to the vitals

I am my father’s son