Alien Hymns

Alien Hymns

I'm neck deep in the blood of my good intentions; these don't count the myriad of pains that didn't merit a mention. I don't want anything, just love and wealth and constant attention. But what are these words that appear not even for my own sake? They leave my mind aching in their wake. My head is filled to the brim with these alien hymns. These words that are not mine, that cannot be divine, yet they unfailingly rhyme. Perhaps I'm simple. Too simple. To think in ways complex and out of time. Because this isn't art, it's not inspired; it’s merely by design. 



So let me drown in the blood of my worst intentions, and trust that every mistake will warrant a mention. And if I'm guided by fate, I ask that I not be made to wait. But if I have a choice, a voice in this debate, then I'll have my say and choose another way. Because I have no need for your poems or your fiction. I can waste away with a different addiction. And if I find that, without them, I'm truly worthless, I ask you not to leave me in suspense. You can take my mind, my tongue, and my limbs because I have no more use for you or your alien hymns.

-Adam J Marcon


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Where The Sun Sets

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What Lies Beneath (The Wanderer: Chapter Six)