Departed trail & Bitter trials.

Eng.50 2021

I don’t know where my head is as I’m kinda offended by the body

with an open ended story like biblical stories with lambs of lion’s grace 

“Where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head?”

Can I disregard that Godly love and detach the high priest calling me back

I can’t but head to where the thudding sound of tell tale hearts buried in hell

Put in a grave and come back as headless horseman, looking for what witches cast

and use as totems for puppetry; in hollow wakings instead of sleepy towns.

Kisses on your forehead by a ghost that is nearly detached by philosopher stones. 

Anxious about everything that the space between my ears is wartorn in some PTSD 

Terror on the throne and the heavy head that wears thorn crowns 

I see your savage shavings leaving blood down my head in your hands like an Aztec surgeon.

Suicidal son with a knife at my hairline, so I hide it from myself, but you have it now.

My head, my head, don’t shatter from the hand that grips you with a devil’s radiant touch.

What have I done to be so lost from God.