Power 3

-Power 3-
by Keaton Foster


Oh
The dream
Lucidity
It screams
Madness
It breeds
This disease
Hollowing
Out my head
Emptying
My crooked spine
Always leaving me
Reeling in pain
Tormented
Such a shame
Oh
None of it
Not an ounce
Is quite so real
Because what is real
Is openly left
Upon the steps
Of various speculation
Thus purpose filled
Regurgitation
Here on the page
Right in your face
Either way
Bothers me
Far less than it should
How can it all be
It cannot
God wouldn’t
The devil will not
In between
I now reside
In this prison
Contained within
How did I get here
When did I arrive
Birth
Not so refined
Death
Not quite yet inspired
Power 3
Is what I call it
The name
Thus my agony
Such is a weight
Given to me
Received
How could I refuse
It was never an option
When I close my eyes
When I lay down to sleep
With the aide
Of copious amounts of dope
Power 3
Again comes
Need nor matter
Such escapism
Does not work
Even those numb
Can still truly feel
Even those with an edge
Sheared off
Still feel the angle
And the proceeding fall
Down much further
Into my very own soul
Into the bottomless hole
Where madness controls
Where sadness patrols
Where everything
Is meant to be destroyed
Shredded into pieces
Torn from limb
Ripped from bone
Utterly devastated
What’s the point
There is none
Power 3
Is as always
In total control
Maybe you
Call it something different
Maybe you are fortunate
Not affected
Maybe God
Has considered you
An effort of worth
One to be truly saved
While others be damned
If that is the case
You are privileged friend
Take it from me
Madness is no home
No place of skin and bones
No temple still standing
Only ruin
That’s what people like me
The ones seeing everything
Quite clearly while sleeping
Must again come to face
For those of us so unfortunate
Differentiating between reality
And subcutaneous calamity
Becomes harder each new day
That we managed not to cease…


Power 3
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.