(Silver Process Cocaine)

I saw myself in black and white, a darling of the darkroom's light
All fields and faith between the lion's chords as they spun on a pin into
The back of my world where I witnessed the white religion as told
By the mouths of birds who left right details to be ignored of enlarger lights and
Low dollar bills to draw your soldier up into the nervous war where designer gun powder
Is loved for it's half-death lure and a drink can barely quench a temporary thirst
Of a boy with curls and a lack of color in a voice that warns you to be beloved or
To be cured of by a sentence's end that took verb after noun to make the school
Board proud so you, like him, can begin with a look at your end
Or a picture of a tryst with a most lively inanimate friend who took to life
Within it's host to make a search for hope a thing to be seen only by the lens of me
With developer palms to hold to your eyes so maybe someday when you're stopped and
Fixed it'll be less like surprise and more like a truth finished with the life of being latent
Like the image that you removed to make way for your illegal Jesus that avoids
The shutter at all times since there he's not approved for your mind and is
Nothing more than a tie to bind your hand to it's guidance councilor who is
Corrupt with children he coaxes into the afternoon lights where they feel no shame
In the breath or intake of such silver process cover-ups as performed and
Executed by your own personal government which has no separation of
Church and state, or I should say, separation of church and state of mind