The Sickness

 

Distracting

     myself, 

  From the itching and scratching. The heart thudding against its caged coupe. 

  The marijuana inhalation curbing no angst. 

 The despair, I think to myself, 

     I must just pray against. 

  The darkness of man sinks in, 

      like the weight of hopelessness 

           Anchoring under water. 

  A curse placed, 

     Or a Hellish dominion embarked upon? 

The ground contains both worlds, 

  A lay on top of the other. 

Hell resides 

  Where Heaven Remains. 

  My feet, are a cold and burning fire, 

    Drudged with Hell's crust, 

      and the ash of human remains. 

There upon still remains, the mud and soil of earthy grasses struck and greener than ever. 

  If there between, 

    A heart remained in me, 

  It is in the cold cage I have kept it of, 

   Upon the walk through Hell and back. 

I need the touch of an Angel now; 

  The recovery necessary 

     for Resurrection.