closet
out of the suffocating darkness comes nothing
to eat your soul with teeth of your own devising
to feed a hunger carved of secret yearning
fear feeds on its own flesh
Mirror
If there is a god he must be blind. The hands that shape our bitter fates must surely be unguided.
Or is it by some cruel design that we must know hunger and hate and eat up our own children to survive?
I'd rather believe that we are beasts driven by beast hungers and beast needs than Men, shaped by the hands of a god.
A god who stands and watches by while hungry children with empty eyes die slow deaths which began at their births.
Who lets half the world struggle to survive for today while the rest stockpiles the death of tomorrow.
There is a blindness not of sight, but heart. Bleakness of spirit so sere it cripples vision. A blindness of the soul.
If there is a god he must be blind. As blind as Man, as devoid of Grace. He did, after all, create us in his image.
Or did we create him in ours? Heaven's Tenement
I am the landlord in a place called Hell. That guy with the horns and hooves-- he's just the building supe. I'm the one who picks the residents.
I admit the place isn't in such good repair. The air conditioners only work in the winter. The heaters make the summers extra toasty. And the elevator only works one way.
True, it’s in a bad neighborhood. Everybody there is nasty, shiftless and mean. But every one of them had a lifetime to change. They chose to end up there.
It’s overcrowded, I know. But is that My fault? Seems tike you make a place off limits and everybody wants to go there.
Sure, I'm willing to admit these things. Lying’s not in my job description. Just for the record, though, let me say I never asked to be a slum Lord.
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