Lost Faith

  
This has gone on long enough; The cyclical era makes me sick. 

Longing for the fantastical ending that will never manifest and instead gathering the poisonous buds that you carelessly flicked. 

How will I get along? 

How will our seed understand and grow? 

I can’t make it. My worth is too low. 
I will come to my Senses and ask whether experiences can be forgotten, but they insist “no”.

They offer solace instead and bring back tastes of pain and anxiety burning;Visions of the fuck you neither gave nor showed. 
The number of times incalculable that my third eye knew weren’t true,

instead I ignored the cautionary signs horrified of what I knew. 
The alpha and omega have arrived with what seems like no invitation to you. 

The magic and potions have faded,leaving the illusions unmasked as well as empty pews.