Just Under The Skin Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

A hint so subsquent.
As if today will be the only one.
A one of a kind in like minds.
Bringing down the cloudy and stormy skies.
Whom am I to argue its revelance in a enviroment I have no control over.
The rolling dream, jumping from one room to the next.
The pages are always out of order.
A backwards drift.
Always leaving it more mift then to begin with.
Making sense of a dellusion that seems so real.
They leave ghosts in there image.
As if to say I was really here.
But is here the same through someones eyes as there mind?
Reading on a celluar level.
Calling out to what some call angels and devils.
Calling it hells bells with a empty notation.
For its description could be of infinite possibilities.
An unknown number thats has yet be reached and never will be.
Tarot cards will give us good read into these child like demons.
When does the snake not blend in with the grass?
How can we still deny the existance of its natural habitat.
For a baseball needs a bat.
A good smack and that is that.
To reach the end is to reach the begining.
Even in the simplest decisions.
All the provision are already provided.
A soul that continues to divide and collide.
A battle for oneself, with oneself, in oneself.
Sparks become the paints of both the sinner and saint.
We are all sculpting him or her
doesn't matter the gender, even if its an idea to which we surrender.
I am both the savoir and offender.
This is the human soul tossed in a blender.