I bow my thoughts toward you, though I see you’re cold and lifeless. Eyes chiseled in place; you can look nowhere but down. Down on belittled ol’ me.
I love you. I hate you. I worship you. I want to topple you over for not caring. I rage against my voice being left unheard by ears that were never capable of hearing. I cannot bear to break even a piece of you from the hideous beauty of falsity that is your existence.
Your voiceless lips demand my loyalty and affection. I kiss your feet knowing that my hopes of favor are impossible to fulfill by the thoughtless minerals before me.
There is no need for bars, chains, or straight jackets when one is devoted to the powerlessness of an omnipotent god of stone imagination.
Posted in: Poetry