Awakening (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 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 fuck from the night before.

Slothfully smoke fills my crying lungs. I breath, 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 are like Marshmallows plucked
from that squishy spot in side my skull.
They maintaine 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 go dark. Screaming, Forgiveness with out regret,
Forgiveness with out lies, forgiveness,with out time and time is
just a clock Ticking, ticking, ticking, eyes
repair everything I have yet to be.

So if this face of god is really the man upstairs his either
a fucking moron or has a really good sense of humor.
I wonder if I had feathers for feet would they be strong
enough to let me fly? 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. To come to realize in my dreams I actually
survive and every breath I take carries me a second 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.