The Daily Threat of Death

My character is threatened every second I am dying,
I'm working on a holistic cure that's ontologically impure;
Involving every thread of moral fiber that gravity's defying,
Unraveling the faithless dichotomy only heretics can endure.

Rightly dividing my time, searching for the daily threat of death,
Decorated with violent irony, like a priest that rapes his nuns;
My soul the unwilling victim, the priest my confident breath ...
The demons are running out of fingers to point and they're pulling out their guns.

You'll Never Guess Who Told Me

I thought my heart was granular
It was merely a glaze of sediment
A place where you were finished
A scorching willful element

I burned another, just to find the truth
It was the carve of inconsistancy
That left me without hope
Left me without that glaring clarity

I just felt like letting you in
I felt I don't feel that I knew
But you took more than everything
I forgot to tell you that I am you