Saint Augustine

I’m a simple man
I like the deafening sound of the MG-42
I like being a martyr
I like the sight of blood and the fall of trees
I like the forest fog
For it holds endless possibilities
The sound of the blues,
Makes me want to try those tactics
Dear,
Monsters and angels don’t exist
They’re only figments of our subjective constructs
The more you resist, the more the pain persists.

I like pretending I’m in touch with reality
And my feelings.
I truly hate conflict with pure souls
And stepping on clean surfaces with dirty shoes.

I hate being played
Because I can never be
I hate analogies
And mental chess
Especially when I’m angry.

When my eyes drop on you,
How do they make you feel?
Are they heavy?
If your answer is yes, then,
I wish my eyes tickled you instead
So I can see your soul bring on
That gorgeous smile
Of purity and heavenly energy
You augmented my dull reality,
You made me love colors again
Now, I wish
You’d inspire me to dream of killing the devil again
That you’d make me toss the angel dust
That you’d light up my lust
After you.
Again.

I want deliverance
Yet my hands hold a bottle of Château Noir
Rouge Velours.
Amour Perdu.
Jardin Secret.
La Vie en Rose.
Éclair de Minuit.
Laisse tomber.