Time slows, it escapes the
dregs of the human soul.
The tempo, the unforgivable
mask of enmity drags the
promises of our youth to
enslave hope and shackle it
to rhetoric.

It has faceless, baseless,
defaced morals. The truth
wears it like a mask of lies,
and receives the heart of
millions as hundreds of
Judas goats show them the
way, pretending self betrayal
is divine.

To eat the face of a child,
to cause it terror before a
Satanic death. Drip, drip.
Frazzledrip the Soul until
the unconscionable dance
around the altars naked
and behead the promises
of life in forfeit of their

“Frazzledrip” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.

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