The Awakening of the Spiritual Renaissance

Every time I look in the mirror I see the face of god. What a vicarious view of vanity. My eyes sin and Reflect past. My envious tongue licks the gluttonous, glory of gratuitous teeth for the over consumption of snakes. Their scales as smooth as one thousand Fingernails attached to greedy hands scraping my Spine in a form of lust so violent even the wrath in my Heart can feel the aching from the foreplay, from the night before. Slothfully smoke fills my crying lungs. I breathe, in this Air soaked in darkness and everything I aspire To be but won't. My feet are anvils. My back is the ocean always moving to the shore. My hands are hammers and my dreams... My Dreams are like Marshmallows plucked From that squishy spot in side my skull; maintaining form but no substance. This face of god looks back at me and sings. "You see, you see what can't be seen. You repair the damage done to me." With a smack of fate and a wrist watch on my side damage dealt and a battle won. My eyes forgive their sins. And I scream for forgiveness... forgiveness, without anger. Forgiveness without regret, forgiveness, without time and time my friend is just a clock Ticking, ticking, ticking. So if this face of god is really the man upstairs his either a freaking moron or has a really good sense of humor. Because as of right now I feel as though I should dive in this ocean with the weight of my feet dragging me to the bottom to see how long it takes to feel alive. I've come to realize in my dreams I really do survive and every breath I take carries me closer to the day that I arrive in a world that's ready for me a world that I'm not ready to see. I still long for a mind of a baby so I can maybe have a conversation with myself and say "self... you're going to be ok." Because right now I'm so confused by the time and space and everything in between. My dreams explode like they where put in a microwave on high. The anvils shatter and hammers splinter and I am the center of everything by everything I mean everything and I can make my world that much better. It's my choice. It's my clock. It's everything that I've become and everything that I am. I have room to change but it's only some. I have it all or I have none. I may not be this divine presences of purpose starring back at me. Though, I have repaired this damage done to me.