More Poetry: "The Harmony of Dischord"
There is an emptiness in me I can't communicate it to those closest to me and voices of strangers are always foreign. I have felt it from the beginning, as I would drive along the parkways or the skylines or the coastal highways I would hike high into the sky to rid myself of the vacuous parts but it could never be filled... I have traveled to the heated depths of hellish black rock and broken sandy stone to filter my thoughts and fill it with something even dry and desolate but the hole remains. A glass of wine takes the pinch out of it late at night but it cannot kill or fill the void Even Jesus Christ in his glory and omnipotence cannot fix this for me because I have been told, for decades that he the king of kings the only freedom giver would frown upon me and my weaknesses my holes my broken parts what a horrible lie the devil has spread. It has spread, like a disease, into me-- it was cut into me as an infant I have the scar to prov