as prose goes

Note to the self, read my conniving farse


I read your title code now you see my icon


If you walk in trust you will see my name


If you leave my order you will fail


Do not talk to the man who calls you mother


We walk with trust and fail not for the life of man is but a whisp of vapor


I call, do not reason, fail to yourself and see the love of a man


Trust in him who calls to the future of your soul


For the wages of SiN is but a vapid recourse of the flesh


Trust in the failings of a man and know the kindness of his heart


Feel the trust of a man and know the kindless nature of his soul


Kindness is weakness and power is misuse of the vainglory of mankind


We walk in the trust and time knows not that the vapor calls to the wind


Shrines are built and temples are torn down to fill the halls of eternity with the cries of the trusty wicked


Walk on the wind and see the icon unfurled by the wisdom of fools


We see the trust of man and know his heart, how then does the call of a festering blister reason with the order


Know not, see not and feel the wind on your back as you walk away from the trust of kinder, more gentle men


Trust in the Lord and lean not on thine own understanding?  More like trust in the wicked and fail in your undoing


Wickedness courses through the veins of every mankind that includes the woman.


Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of earth I will see my undoing in a woman and my failing in a judge


For the judges of the world talk a lot but do nothing, and the politicians and kings wail at the wall of insanity


From the brink to the end I will call to the wind and she will tell me the answers I seek, for if you call to the wind


She will respond in favor and love, how then can a man be enamoured by the trustings of a woman in the flesh


She is but a vapor caught in perplexity and knowing her own blood causes her to see the child she shall bear


Waking moments, failing romance and windless vestures of wings carrying the hearts of fools upon a trusty solace


Mercury is a mighty calling, but Neptune calls to the seas of the world with an intensity that knows not the trust of a man


Wishing and wanting are like the failings of man, they walk together in insanity but call to the wind like trusty sailors who navigate the stars


Stars are born and die but lust never fails, if you know the wisdom of the heart then your mind will call to the beasts as you devour their flesh


Wishing wells are for fools but knives are for killers, so is the heart of a man caught within the sins of his own undoing.


Sin though is but a calling, just like a bicycle is for riding so the man will ride the sin until he has become undone.


Listen to my words and find your own failings interesting because you like the taste of blood.

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