The Lord’s Design

Adonis of my sweat,

may you consume it.

My all consuming id,

I acquired so explicit.

What have you done?

I feel the touch a gun,

you wield in my hand

and I turn to far run.

I’m a hero dear Lord,

I think I’m not so I am.

Mighty in the sky torn

and bountiful in hand.

My skin touches sheets

and my pores perspire.

The room is dark but I

have dim light not tired.

The world it is cold and

we have so many ways;

the weeks roll by and I

feel the dramas of day.

Let us slip away now

while we still have time.

All the world spins hurt

from the Lord’s design.

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