Angels With Dirty Souls

  Religion sufficed through the revolution of drugs. Things became clear as the images on the wall started moving. "Yelling" and "shouting" with voices of their own. For every low, there was a high as they kept ascending. This was their religion, a new found testament in the way they dressed The way they spoke. Low cut eyes in an array of emotion. No longer was church the place that was holy. Made in his image they found sanity in each other. Alone, lost in each others embrace. Living in the eternal moment of today as tomorrow was not promised. They rejoiced in this new found prophecy. Without need to fly they hid their wings. Comic in animation. The things they did to incite laughter. Staring at blank walls, provoking the paint to yell a bit louder. With nothing there they imagined the thought of forever. A manifestation that grew with time Without need of fabrication their hands rested in each others. Rejecting the need of worldly pleasures outside of each other. They abandoned promises of streets paved in gold For the everlasting promise found in each other As time exists only as now