Playing tapes in my head (one of many)

Set in the back.

It was final in a way, the sun had set;
the night did stretch forth her veil of darkness.
The evolution of man's thoughts had brought birth to lightning,
but it was yet, as imperfectly deprived of thunder.
The light that the lamps did bring forth had now been abandoned, yet in my soul I could hear the rain,
as She did her companion converse with.
The randomness of existence had been given meaning long before,
before the day My first breath did flood these mortal lungs.

So I saw it set in the back of my mind, hidden behind the debris of a mediocrity
that surpasses my own sanity.
Above the sanctity of my own existence , the closure that I seek in my own dis-functionality.
The thought of love and so called acts of love, that just stew You in disparity,
I wish to toss this thought to the world just this once.

They called me by names out of a medical journal by V.Frankenstein,
that I was pieced up into nothing-ness.
I am not Your mumbled up words, nor am I a fragment of Your imagination.
I am who I am, I am who I AM says I am.

I did this once flip this script for a moment, to make this poison less potent.
They have sput in my ears words so profane and called this nonsensical rumbles love,
I do not believe in that Your "cupid's" arrows.
When love is like a mucky stream,I shall not tred into it.
I will not join my soul to another, a promise they have made, broken and destroyed ,
a million times to make it thus reduced to dust, slowly being blown off into the distant wind.
...
Grow up You foolish bum. Get off Your lazy thrown and shed off Your crown of complicity.
Walk on, as the wind ushers in a reality of an on coming desert.
*** *** ***
Till next we meet.
Kwaheri.