The Vox of God

I hear you afar,
Like the Vox of God,
As a hoax-
Like a shining beacon,
To one lost in
Malice n Wanderland.
Maybe the path remains curbed,
With all the road-blocks of
A deeply embedded anger.
That seems unconquerable-
Irreversible.
Irreplaceable.
The placenta with soul,
Abruptly tears,
As the monster consumes all inches.
Therein, a smile resmbles a jeer-
The Vox of God,
Has nothing much,
For me to hear.
It's faded and jaded-
Remote and robotic.
How can it save me-
As I need an interventionist,
To raise a dialogue,
With the monstrosity of anger,
And the confused.
It's like an OCD in the head,
As the  voices in my head,
Leave no stones unturned,
To steal my peace.
You call me crazy?
Well,that's not fair!
I am not an ordinary plain Jane-
To be entrapped in the honeycombed cells-
Finding that needle in the haystack.
I'm nothing in fact-
Quite vaporous,
Yet why hold on to me?
When clearly, I've lost hold of me.
Pillars define limits,
Which further define standpoints-
Must I succumb to any-
Or run away from the many-
Shades of bewilderment-
Of me, mine and I.
This monstrosity deteriorates.
Leaving no sign of sunshine.
It's only dark, black and sinister.
Yet, curiously,
A certain Stockholm Syndrome pervades.
I'm pally with this monster now-
It stays with me.
Like an unseen force,
Unsettling any truth.
Beggars can't be choosers now-
This is all and what I have.
Is it sanity or a semblance of vanity?
That's made me lose my ground now-
Whatever be it,
It's a burrow, where my truth may dig deep.
No point in saving me,
From me-
I'm gone gone gone-
Long gone
To a landless territory of my mind.
Somewhere where sleeplessness
Resides as a birthright -
As the monster burns bright.
The Vox of God,
Seems feeble too-
As I laugh at it-
Is the last laugh?
Neah- not the kind.
I need to be sound in mind.