Pandora’s Box (Ruins)

Caressing the accent marks.
The creases bedazzled. 
Marble fittings along the hinges. 
A vintage pendant. 
A token, a symbol of mischief;
Sins and 
Social politics, 
Empty rhetoric, 
The curses of the heretic. 
All hidden
Beneath the surface.

You feel the tensions quick
To rise
Against the sunrise.
Surmise as if Christ rose on the third day
After sunset.
The fools wept, 
Yea their upset, I guess. 
Oh well, that’s what the fools get. 
For believing in an empty message. 

Storm clouds 
And hail stones launched against the windows 
The friend zone then closed door. 
Oh no, here we go again.
Back to the drawing board. 
I mean what the fuck is goin on?

The cataclysm of thoughts 
Corrupt 
What’s already 
Been tainted.
Determined unstable.
Too fucked up to bear. 

Years of suffrage becoming too great to handle.
It simmers and stews from deep within,
No lid to contain it in. 
Why jump to conclusions when usually
It’s used to forge a testament. 

It runneth over 
The gutters swollen from months of turmoil
Explodes into the front yard.
Hold on
No means to safeguard that lanyard you’ve been handed. 
Well, if this is it,
I’ll be goddamned. 

The key bent. 
No entry permitted.
There’s a reason why we barricade the doors in the Courtyard. To keep the court barred off 
Chaos of the ruins ensue within me. 
It’s the truest as a cursed were certain. 
I lock this burden beneath it’s surface once before Never to return to it. 
If no reason there’s no purpose 
That’s for certain. 
We must have learned that
We should avoid Pandora’s box.