dghouls

Shaking Hands With Shiva (poem)

My back grew a
Thick skin
But my heart's
Was tissue thin

Should have started
prepareing then
For the trouble
I'd be getting in

What steps do I take?
Who's shoes am I in?
Which agendas deficate
Soaked in vodka, rum, and gin?

It smells the same
Either way
It rots the brain
Weakens the frame

I can only find
One person to blame
And the funny thing
He shares my name,
My face, my skin,

My past; not my passage
He walked the sacred tunnels
Now I walk outside
Right past him
It was MY heart
He pawned, and pumped
Then cashed in

The searching heart
That loved and doubted
Bled and ran as it shouted

"BREATHING FIRE NEVER COUNTED,
Breathing fire never counted"

Neither did wrapping
Gifts in pretty thorns
Painting those things black
Prentending when we mourned
The loss of inquiry
The birth of injury
Shaking hands with Shiva
To kiss the lips of apathy

I exit stage left
Rim shot: rhyme
Snare drum: levity
Hoping that the worst of me
Forged a better best of me

Hoping that the worst of me
Forged a better best of me

So when I hit my stride again
I'd like to take the test to see
Is it my heart or my head
That I'd better protect from me