Fallen Angel

Life cycles through vanity.
Examining the calamities of
unexpressed profanities,
withstanding every attempt
at truth and sanity.
But,
if this is all I have to look forward to,
then god is damning me.
And no one's handin' me
the golden spoon,
to serve up this crock of shit
they've been feedin' me since the womb!!!

I assume that the zoom on this lens
is only here for visual effects,
since my visions seem to be impaired,
and no longer affect anything that I do.

And I don't care that I can't have it all,
but if the voices in my head,
would stop mocking me long enough
for me to catch myself before I fall.
Then I just might be able to crawl
out of this hole that I call home.

BUT YOU'LL NEVER GET THE BEST OF ME!!!!

Don't mind her,
that's just the drugs talking.

I only answer back when
thoughts of chopping blocks
are flocking to the point of stalking.
However, as of lately,
my mental state of mind
is always the second guest,
and seems to be stopping by more often.

I try to breathe deep and count to ten,

but I've become obsessed with the idea,
that being pressed for time,
is the fine line between
good and evil,
god and people,
the odd and feeble.

I'm not sure what to think.
I mean,
I'm not in the best of shape,
and I can't seem to escape this debate
that continues to reinstate my license to procrastinate,
on command.

So understand that the demands made
on my day to day played hell,
on deciding when and where I fell.
So I gelled it all up,
and together it spelled "disaster."
And after my life shat all over itself,
and then spit on my shoes,
I sat down to the late breaking news,
and began to cry.

See,
we're all going to hell in a hand basket.
Ain't that fucking fantastic?
And everyone seems to be looking past it.
As if it'll all clear itself up,
in the end.

But in the retention of my hell,
I have found that what dwells within,
dispels everything pure that tries to begin.

That my ONLY REAL sins
have been,
not believing in myself.

Thinking that wealth and fame,
were a frame of mind
that I could breathe in.
Let alone,
conceive thoughts to plot against
the never mores and whatnots.

And staying on the straight and narrow?
If I were deaf, dumb, and blind
it'd seem fair though.
But it,
bares no resemblance to the fate I've assembled to greet my efforts,
in some sort of an effort to stay afloat.
With hopes that one day,
I'll either just cope,
or pay the note,
and sell my soul with the usual quote,
like,
God forgive me.

And it's within this frame of mind,
that I find another angel that no longer flies,
but falls.

Excuse me,
I hate to intrude,
but have any of you seen my wings?