LIFE Poem: Antichrist, by T. B.

’m watching myself become a casualty of the
Mass graves at the starting line of
a Second Drug War.

I along with another army of others,
Given to hedonistic desire
Brought on by a lack of restraint and control.
ponder why we lost our souls when we gave them to our
desires.

We build empires in honor of Loki.
We make sacristy an overthrown majesty.
We built gods in the names of our lusts
So we could worship our sins, in trust
That they would keep us sound
In lies that seem profound,
But are traps and snares
sprinkled with spoonfuls of sugar.

It hangs like flesh rotting off the hook
Waiting to be cooked,
Rubbed and buttered,
Eaten and consumed.

The Antichrist is the creation of man
As we are the creations of God.
We build her
So that it is the mind of man
‘ganist the mind of Christ,
We could overthrow Him
And be free from the consequence of sin,

Death:

A Mannequin suit of flesh
With Hollow eyes that walk and wander like an
Empress in transgress’.

The truth does not fulfill our lusts
So we made idols in our own image,
And being made in the likeness of God,
We defaced the trinity in simulacra, and pretended that
God was never there,
Caught in our own snare