And i seem to remember, crashing your wedding on the 7th of December.
It took place in a floral setting and with the weather so tender.
With white windows and whining widows, sighing in intervals of clasped residual regret shaped minerals.
I saw the iron ingots weighing down on chests with frowns while you resound, beautiful, there in your wedding gown.
On your breath was a noun, coarse on my ears as you did pledge your patient years.
I was with the others in the crowd of regrets and mothers.
Cheering, while you spent every second peering deeper into quick sand with the swiftness that ring band encompassed your swayed hand. I seem to remember your wedding, except it hasn't been December, with the year still new and setting and without you ever marrying.
And yet, still, I crashed your wedding.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 2:24 PM UTC
And pain is for comparing, so in the end no one cares about the pain you've been carrying
Caring more about the strain of preparing God's gift of declaring life in the fair seam of blaring inferring.
Infrared beems shoot out of her eyes while his demise is minimized to a copious demonized enterprise
"He fell because he stood", they might say after forcing up his feet without parlay, partially because his reach rose beyond safe days and grabbed comfort he cannot partake in.
A cardinal sin.
Perspective is twisted because of what the eyes haven't seen
The stray shots of padded benign beans growing naked under an oak tree.
Such things matter when feelings are laced into the open, do we only share emotion to keep hopes in that one day they'll feel our pain for us, or adore us for the plush stuff that remains after life gets through hurting us
To keep our bones from accumulating rust, you know...the red gush.
Why else would you need a hug after imploding underneath the rug with all the lost hush and broken glass with smoke and ash painting the whiskey in a stolen flask.
Pain is compared so it's never shared, we're far to scared to feel others pain so we redecorate blame and give it to each other, offer perspective that paints the other as wrong or right but the pain never chose a side in the plight
It simply happens and that terrifies those with their mind in the right
And so we go back and forth while the world rotates and reports small seedless wars sprung in conversation about whose pain is worse.
I'm tired of sympathy and I'm tired of competition over who has a more tainted pain-embracing history.
I simply want understanding. Not to be branded, nor have an explanation expanded.
I simply want the pain thats a part of me to be a part of me in the memories of offhanded close friends and family fragmented with hopes and similes granted by their perspective of how in the hell my feet got planted.
Romance meant two worlds would join hands and find stance in comprehension of the other shareholder's skin and not to mention the other organs entranced in a lack of contention.
Then why so often is pain kept within until it oozes out and paints over the thin line between love and hate.
With no love in place for the other person's authentic pain.
Simple maths shows which of the two would reign.
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 1:26 AM UTC
My identity is split, as i lunge and resist.
Do my lungs really breathe when i indulge in phrenic constants?
Swear I'm the same when I'm different, my barbaric nonsense
In a barn with imposters, standing with improbable postures
Grazing over fallible pastures while praying to fawl pasters
Part of me feels like one of the sheep grazing for masters.
And the other part working on getting my masters, degree for some fast cars...
Can't breathe because monsters need me to get gassed up
So i smoke when it's mad tough
Better than a rope in the backdrop, i mean a noose in my back yard
Weight on my chest makes it mad hard, for a phrenic pit stop, where i can breathe and resist some, craving from twitch drugs
Seems i don't breathe with my lungs, since they're in need of warm hugs..
As such, my phrenic nerves speak to my heart with an infallible grudge
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 2:49 AM UTC
I still suffocate on the voices I've been told are too loud
Like stones dancing in between my cords, they scratch and claw
Let the records show, my vocal element is raw and disfigured
Discombobulated as i figured i frighten people that linger for the second half of sentences embraced with fragrances of roaring passion.
And so i suffocate on voices i change and relocate
I hate that i hate a simple part of mine self.
I've given my words a new location far from the vocation of public speech
I'd rather keep peace than reach for my vocal shotgun.
But i must say
i miss they way i sounded when i recall a string of words I've sung...
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 1:59 PM UTC
My conversion might have spiritual aspersion but there's this psychotic psychiatric panicking picnicking physical symptom causing an immersion, not a submerge with baptis perks, just complete attention placed on how my heart tends to commit abdication. Resuscitate them then. So said my friends when, i told them i now felt the voices in my head fall into my abdomen. They didn't say it with their words, they simply made mention by the abolition of our friendship man. Actions that silence needn't mention. Accumulations of reverberations, with accreditations to the alienation of I who thought i could maintain my affiliation. Guess i gave them the pains of a nation, my bad karma is the worth of their aggravation. May these words not be an accusation, but only explain my isolation. And hopefully breed an acclimation. Matrix made this, entertainment's basics into activations. I needed more energy and so cannibalization joined mental calculations i used to penetrate carnations. See i need a conversion or else my future faces constant subversion, and I don't see myself reaching heaven with all these regrets friend.
Henceforth, I'll search the world for my transformation.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 4:59 AM UTC
I choose to be brainless
Confused in the basics
She tells me I'm a pagan
I have no affiliation
And that I'm trapped in a matrix, please
I have to maintain it.
I'm placed with insane pricked needs
Could i simply change it
If i speak to rearrange things
Keep my mind with common placenecy
The place they made for taming me
In the basic lament trip with a tragic caveman sip of dramtic twists
I'm sick of this.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 4:40 AM UTC
Flowers.. blissfully cuddled amongst their counterparts dripping from the rain without hearts.
Thorns and petals might tear apart. Walls breaking where humans would make art, start vivid heart beats.
Flowers need no release.
They have no concern for the birds and the bees, with their entanglement feast.
Flowers need no release.
Fantasies dart about them. There's something smart about them.
There's a heart above them.
Held to her snout inhaling different forms of forgiveness for figuratively speaking...
Should the flower form fond familiar feelings towards their fifth cousin getting plucked for something so redundent as love...
If the flower kept it's heart in the part of the story where a piece of their self is taken for decor on madam's shelf.
If the flower even cared...
It would be scared.
It would be heart broken and underprepared
Oh the joy of a flower that has no need for a heart.
The painless powerful presence of the breathe of Mother Nature's blissful joy.
To be a being who needn't breathe in pure seeming, stress relieving, sweet tasting oxygen.
And breathe out Carbon Dioxide.
Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 4:37 AM UTC
I'm caught between being a man, having a dream, and being a fan.
A number one supporter for my brethren.
I can't get to them, long conversations about they day. I can't get to them, detailed descriptions about the way they changed from yesterday.
Think I spend too long scribbling notes and curating songs.
Chasing a dream where I'm standing on top of the world.
But my assigned seat is a pond.
Speaking for the stones, chirping crickets, and bones.
That one small step looks so far while sitting on comfortability's throne.
Distorting the stars that I'm shooting for.
My people need food and more.
I can't spend days shooting through the war for best writer you know.
Running over corpses who owe their lives to those who were there when the system bled.
Some thoughts slow to clear my head:
How many bullets can buy a loaf of bread?
See men have the option of 'by any means' when the children cry to be fed.
The option to paint our fist red...
But the feds are an issue, and I certainly wouldn’t be spared.
The fourth option of sitting on my hands would have me moving like i never cared.
And that's not what my soul and God said while i was scared looking into a future when i wasn't prepared.
They told me to keep writing about my dreams, so as a man...I'll say what they said.
Nov 19, 2024
Nov 19, 2024 at 8:10 AM UTC
So, in conclusion.
The captain decides who boards the ship.
Members aboard have to deal with the time spent breathing on a ship with...nakama.
Marines hop from ship to ship. I guess they put their hope in ship to ship.
Regardless, it's why they oppose us.
Our ideals.
Our operations.
Us.
Me.
Honestly, the sea is the sea. But people floating around me can't see. At least they perceive what need they believe.
But they do this upon the sea.
Hence, the sea is the sea.
Theus theory.
We need to breathe through mist, among other things.
Risks and other means.
To achieve being greater beings.
But it's okay not to reach these things.
As okay as your captain lives.
If he's okay with it, then let me believe.
In the option he receives... received.
I believe, I believe...
The AI would lead me to think.
I believe that i can be the captain I follow.
The captain who carries his past in hallow fragments where it shifts and borrows future estrangments to present arrangements
Whoa.
Maybe not estranged but rearranged into a casket of pure simple tamed dimples with silent whispers.
The problem : I talk.
After that, name baring, fear declaring, clear shattering, rear factored in sphere matter, and it appears that it'd peer shatter if they speak clatter neglecting clear factor's my fear is in the latter. But...what should matter if the kids don't matter?
I'm just saying that a generation is chasing the shape of Cleo Petra
And we can't be a certain guy with a sword.
Maybe he had a point in burning the books.
Maybe he had a point in falling in love.
Maybe he came from far and realized sometimes you need to stop things from peeling apart.
Through thorns and wrath.
Through an excruciating path.
You need to get to where it's art.
A land where the sea might part.
Two realities where life found a start.
I miss the sea more than i thought i would.
Being a pirate is more in the plot than it should.
Please don't let me be Misunderstood.
I only mean you have to get by doing what you can because you should.
Today's times prove that humans aren't all good.
In the media and...well, where they aren't good.
I wonder what my ancestors would say.
How they would feel.
What they'd see, when they see what's become of me.
Wait. What's the best way to give honor to history.
Without noting the misery in mysteries buried under history's nefarious missing delegates.
Never mind them, people's parents and...societal comparisons to superheroes with their caring emotional variants.
Making villains prepared for causing more emotional worse for wear.
Well, I'm under prepared.
A little bit scared. And over prepared for dares that come with... welll... assumptions for something better than for now.
As i clear and plow.
Sew seeds in a vow.
So respectfully, if the bulletproof vest is me, then I'm definitely sitting in the back, you'll see, protecting what rests with me when i breathe through peace's Symphony.
You know...to the sky, we're all standing upside down.
Clouds see right through the smiles finding frowns.
It really is a brighter day when the clouds don't make a sound.
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 5:17 PM UTC
The memories that play on repeat
Turn over sheets, creating irreparable incomplete illogical theories that i brand so selfishly in the way i display my humanity.
I'm not sure if that's worth abandoning when they are memories...
Memories that come from me.
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 4:08 PM UTC