I am called a shallow man
With a cynical heart
And a wondering hand

A masked charade
Fitted with synthetic truth,
A deceitful tirade
From a heartbreaking tooth.

This country, my country
Stands tall in the name of freedom,
It will lend you the stars
And loan you its stripes
All in the name of his kingdom.

This country, my country

His index finger rests on the curved piece shiny metal.
Resembling a piece of surgical steel
chilled by the affects of a climate controlled morgue.

It’s cold to the touch

It’s a virus to your sanity,
a sickness causing pain.
It’s fueled by your vanity,
Infecting all that’s in its way.

It’s a tidal wave of tension,
Swallowing everyone in its path,

A burning feeling in my chest,
extending outward to all corners of my body.

An emtyness so hollow that no amount
of food can swallow the swallowed.

A stark pain flushes through

As if she were born on the fourth of July...

With sun-soaked perfectly placed freckles.

Beautiful brown eyes,
like tinted windows dimming the hot summer sky.

The sun that shines down on the Vatican in Rome.
The tower that stands tall and shows the ships where is home.

A fire in the winter offering relief from the cold.

Temptation Temptation,
Is it greed that you crave?
In relation to temptation
you will be nothing but it's slave.

Temptation temptation,
Is it her that draws your eye?

I ask you lord,
How do I live in this world without my mother?
Where I can not talk, smile, or laugh with,
Where I can not see, kiss, or hug her?

And the Lord replies...
In this world son,