theblackdostoyevsky

He is an ever-loving God in ever living glory,

While we try and outrun the darkness like the Neverending Story.

Confusion glistens and anger simmers,

wicked grams don’t cease to draw me.

In darkness embers explode in glimmers;

the fire’s inside this husk of timber.

Think blood on hoary frost,

flurries gore across my thoughts,

violent blindness from the lost, who

starve for money hungry crops

whilst I kneel, behold the cross

His bowels bled to pay my costs

long before the sin I sought

dug graves inside my callous heart.

Naked lust enough to fill up empty trucks;

loads of scum tucked in secret crusts.

Once glance, man, will never be enough.

An avalanche backslidden, once enticed to touch.

No more mis takes. In God I trust.

Assault the sense this day, I must.

When all I work to buy is sus,

strongholds like chains I flex to bust.

His Spirit stamps golden calves to dust.

Drink.

It’s from heart, not the belly, that evils rush.

O wretched man, I am! Addicted

to chocolate and clapping hands, and

clapping cheeks on Instagram,

and mobile games and gossip strands

and golden threads and Amsterdam and

counting a hundred hundred grands

to give away, after buying land to

move away from all you stans who

don’t love me but my open hands, my

wrists cuffed with platinum bands.

Freedom?

Buying isolation from your fans.

A Jesus piece in a ‘copter ride,

swollen briefcase tucked inside,

bleeding eyes alone on an empty beach.

Fame and fortune hid ‘tween a witch’s teeth.