stir the pot

red ink looks just like blood, the venomous snake bites, it is harmless said the man studying snake. he died. from one small glitch, though critics said it was ego, or a lack of knowledge, it was somehow always his fault, winners must win out of sheer virtues. what are they again? it's been a long time, i no longer remember what they are or mean. love? patience? long suffering? snake bites, poison shoots through veins, feels like heaven, you know you did wrong when the laugh comes even though the pieces are cracking. faceless nobodies, mocking: where is heaven now? heaven wrecks every nerve. has it really been this long? since we meant something to each other? virtues, vices, gods and demons drowned in a river of fire. my demons, my angels, was it me all along inventing them? or that my part was simply to play along while the tape ran? running along, like my heart beat no longer keen on what the next picture would be. when heaven and myth run side by side, my lover, my god, my anguish wrapped in one tight fist.