My head burning!
My eyes turning!
Stomach churning!
It’s a new twist
Requiring a priest:
To God close enough to clear the mist
Prayers firing while holding my wrist
Or delivering right hand on my splitting head
Now, often seeking a pillow on any bed!
Or should I a doctor try?
To halt this that does my system fry?
Would a doctor
Prove the victor
Or a worse actor
And me our priests not hector?
The priest doctor said
I ain't never getting well
That my cursed soul
was going straight to hell
If you knew the things I did,
would you forbear to tell
Be too afraid I'd taint your soul
if we shared the same cell
Killing is my profession,
and I do it rather well
Was trained on a bloody battlefield,
you best believe war is hell
If you knew the secrets they kept,
to citizens they never do tell
War criminals make the best politicians,
never seen one toss their own self in a cell
Priest doctor will you do it,
I heard you perform exorcisms well
Seems like following orders
is gonna march me right into hell
Now that you know the gist of my story,
leave nothing out, should you be compelled to tell
Withholding pertinent, grave testimony
will bury your betrayal in a rotting, earthen cell
The battlefield within
a swirling whirlpool of delayed rage
comes at last for
the inner child voice
screaming .... why?
Why soul murderer
father, mother, uncle, brother
priest, doctor, three-piece suit
creeper incest keeper
tide breaker...
Mind curtain masks
the unsettled
soul-body certain of sound
that trigger flows
in the dark.
Pictures swirling syphon
through a membrane
of synapses power
deafening thoughts
that scatter waves.
Breathe,
breathe the wave
memory-locked baggage
traveling from its horror cave
into tomorrows hope
of healing.
PTSD ...
oh how sweet silent
will the Silence of Heaven be,
and will I know it
when I get there?
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