Monsters
We're getting married but you won't tell me where
but I'll play it cool and pretend not to care
'bout your radiant body; on the bed lain bare,
while I cannot forget your eyes and their glare.
But it's cool, it's fine, I know you play fair.
When I think of our love, there's nothing to compare
to my future with you - it's as bright as a flare!
When I'm with you, I'm happy anywhere.
You awoke from your sleep, entirely unaware,
so I jolt up too, from your face, wipe your hair.
Your pupils dilated, face drops, shocked, you stare
as you realise our love is your living nightmare.
Change The World
Make a wish.
Count to five.
I'm gonna take you somewhere that'll make you feel alive.
Look down and see how small they are, how tall you are.
You're above them.
Capitulate, manipulate, then decimate.
Move your pieces into checkmate,
and make sure you're indiscriminate.
Most people only imagine paradise,
but they lack the conviction to create it.
This is how we differ.
Your dream is trapped inside your head, and mine is for the taking -
my dream, my will I have made manifest, but...
I wish, please, do not protest.
If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.
My paradise is paradise for all.
If it weren't, I wouldn't believe it to be paradise,
for you are a part of my vision.
It shouldn't be this easy to change the world.
There's nothing to it.
Heaven and Hell
You may join the demons, and perpetuate that which created you,
or you may seek the guidance of angels and ascend unto their ranks.
Regardless, you can never go back.
The letter of Archangel Michael to Lucifer
[2]It's strange to think that someone like you could possibly love anyone else, but I think you still can. And for that reason I am smiling. [3]It's not over. We're both still standing, albeit at opposite ends of existence. But we are both still standing. Since you intend on playing your role, I must assume mine. I am sorry.
[4]Those innocents who have your face, intending only kindness, court their own destruction at my hand. I wrestle with the image of you. [5]Those innocents who you corrupt and turn into fuel for your evil machinations are fractured into ashes. Eternity may not be long enough to piece them together again. Prevention is the only solution. [6]I will be your end.
[7]As I sit upon my ivory throne on high, you may question how I dare assume my seat. I am what monsters like you are scared of. It is my responsibility, nay, my divine duty to assert the will of God upon you. [8]From this point of vantage I have seen your virgin son and harlot daughter, stunted and hateful for the actions of their father. I mourn, and then I rejoice. [9]From this point of vantage, utopia seems simple: Eradicate the monsters and forever peace shall reign. [10]I wish it were that easy. When one of your brood is slain, another six awaken from their slumber. I cannot continue this forever, alas an alternative is yet to be conceived. [11]In this way I have become your victim. Duty begets duty. I cannibalise myself and you feed on the remains.
[12]I may question how much longer I can continue. I may look down and observe the remains of what could have been. This will forever double my resolve. [13]Forever, and forever, and forever I will fight you. Until the final star burns out, until the last child screams at your presence, until the last tear falls from the last cheek, I will fight you.
[14]And I will win.
Prostrationism
Everything I am is irrevocably discarded when I kneel.
Everywhere I look I see the hollow remains of what once was.
Everyone around me conceded a long time ago.
And yet I refuse to submit.
A crimson moat of blood encircles a castle of bone.
In the centre rises a tower of innumerable floors,
with each layer containing a labyrinth of unknowable horrors.
At the top stands a deity of unimaginable power.
And they choose to prostrate themselves.
One must lend an ear whenever someone hollers,
and I have heard fools wail that no king lives forever.
All empires ever established, sans those still smouldering,
regardless of creed or intent, have met the same fate.
Prostration to the next.
Round, and round, and even faster still;
this cycle of conquest sustains itself from the blood of its victims,
all of whom build the tower even higher.
Who are we when we are not bound to the contents of a throne?
Walk You Home
angels drown in stormy weather,
anchored with a shoestring tether,
as the dreary streets you roam.
Demons of nocturnal fright,
practise the most ancient rite.
Light delights in thwarting blight;
A hex upon a honeycomb.
Once upon a time was trust,
now monuments are left to rust.
Duty-bound and absent lust,
I will walk you home.