Are not windows to the world,
Silent films playing continually,
Sending their viewer into madness.
Do not allow the flow of music,
Whisper, scream threats vulgar,
Till their rage fills the emptiness with painful echoes.
Do not taste the sweet and tender,
Sour and send blood,
Pouring from the gaping hole where a mouth should be.
Are not those of roses or fruit,
Rotten and decaying,
Turning, twisting, wrenching my stomach to a knotted mess.
Is not a blanket that explores the world,
A coffin filled with broken glass,
Whose jagged walls are closing in.
Is not a temple to God,
An inescapable hell,
That the sinner I am made it.