Title: St. John

You picking me up from the shark tank.
Drying out of me the day.
Read the lines between the pages.
That's the words that I will beget from you.
Is that the only word I will only get out of you?
Read the world; read the signs composing the cosmic energy, and find out where I belong.
Find out when I never begin, and where the lines are drawn.
The lines between.
Lines of symmetry.
Lines of difference.
Lines of defense.
Lines of distance.
Lines of volume.
Lines of boundaries.
Lines that drive.
Lines that draw.
Lines that divide.
Lines that connects.
Lines of balance.
Lines that tithe.
Know who you are, but how can I take the world by a thunderstorm?
How can I take that risk before it's my time; before it's my turn?
If I'm out of turn; in the wrong place at the wrong time, then I could be cut short from the day, and like a candle light I could be blown out I'd puff out into smoke.
You wouldn't even see my soul leave my body, you'd think you'd like to care to make something of the common sense driving the gravitational field to keep the inhabitants thereof this eulogy sane through the samhain.
I take it you are no ordinary man.
Mr. Saint John.
You may get away to condemn our souls, for never receiving the word on the day it was given.
Have you tried to consider the way it was delivered?
Everything is not on your own time, but the God's above.
Everyone can't be recorded in the pages written in red, for the anticipation of to be living.
Saint John.
You take away all the pain in the best way that you know how, but sometimes even good intentions run dry.
Saint John.
I know you don't have much patients for me, but I promise if I make it back from the journey I'll have salvation for the new book of life.
It may, or may not be what you want to see, or in the end what you had believed you would want for me.
You see, I guess it's the man in you , that brings out the most driven man in me.
I know I can't help myself, you are all that I know to be!
Saint John is more further than all odds could be.
Saint John, is a righteous man.
He doesn't always have the right way to say it to me, but there's something in the way he speaks that let me know he is a God fearing man.
You are picking up the pieces of what is left of our yesterday.
Giving up your mind of warcraft unto me.
At least as long enough for me to survive daily and soon I can get up and bring my wings and learn to fly with the leader.
You are a placebo for the cause.
You have embarked a strange side effect, but I guess it grows on me, like fungi.
I know you mean no harm.
You draw it out of me to want to do better with a crescent moon in time.
I'm at a rare stage in my life.
It's like I'm magical.
Living on a grid point of a perfect pentagram axis, and only on Friday thirteen and hollows eve are my powers active and my abilities of offense and defense intensify.
Saint John.
Find out when harmony should begin us with the world minutes.
Are you too liberal in this political franchise at times?
Hope you know that I can add up with this deviceive diplomatic wages.
The cost of living is not living at all, so I learned not to take the chariot wheels and travel by foot with company.
In the latest of the darkest hour it's about soul salvation, you have to bless it anyway you can you should be scared.
It doesn't have a heart.
It's a battle daily.
Plug into your new soul.
It's a digital warfare; mechanical; artificial.
Saint John.
I can hear you breathing miles apart very gently in my head as if, you are next to me breathing hard.
I can feel everything you teach about a savior finding me gambling with fire.
I'm running out of time just to be strong.
Saint John.


Authorship by Mr Dashaun Rashod Snipes
©Mr. Dashaun Rashod Snipes
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