astralcw - Hello Poetry

I am unsure if we are ever free, if we ever truly know something that doesn’t feel like life My feathers have become much weaker, and my age seems to be my foe This shroud of dread, that rains acid across the green and gravel The air becomes thick with fog, and I feel that quivering sickness again

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Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC

No More Transmission

I am unsure if we are ever free, if we ever truly know something that doesn’t feel like life My feathers have become much weaker, and my age seems to be my foe This shroud of dread, that rains acid across the green and gravel The air becomes thick with fog, and I feel that quivering sickness again

4

i hear the chimeras sing, a painful echo across the skin the floor seeping with oil, bodies slowly rising from it the sound of agony and hurt, becomes orchestration as a world becomes nothing, and its life merely decaying man and its greed, infecting the soul of gasping air my eyes blackened by the melody, as the hum begins to scream

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Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 2:43 AM UTC

I Hear The Chimeras Sing

i hear the chimeras sing, a painful echo across the skin the floor seeping with oil, bodies slowly rising from it the sound of agony and hurt, becomes orchestration as a world becomes nothing, and its life merely decaying man and its greed, infecting the soul of gasping air my eyes blackened by the melody, as the hum begins to scream

6

the leviathan sheds its skin again, they form mountains of decay and rot the ground around becomes poison, seeping into the waters around the moth flies towards the flame, not knowing of the fate it has i throw my body into the grey, hoping to find myself somewhere else the leviathan begins to scream aloud, and the sky begins to bleed i hold my breath in primal fear, unsure of what will become

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Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 2:41 AM UTC

The Leviathan Screams

the leviathan sheds its skin again, they form mountains of decay and rot the ground around becomes poison, seeping into the waters around the moth flies towards the flame, not knowing of the fate it has i throw my body into the grey, hoping to find myself somewhere else the leviathan begins to scream aloud, and the sky begins to bleed i hold my breath in primal fear, unsure of what will become

6

the molten self seeps from my skull misshapen and hollow, screaming in an agony of breath clawing away the copper veins, tongue lashing into my chest ribs eroding into crystal sanctums, escaping like rats in black water

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Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC

Molten Self

the molten self seeps from my skull misshapen and hollow, screaming in an agony of breath clawing away the copper veins, tongue lashing into my chest ribs eroding into crystal sanctums, escaping like rats in black water

4

A body exhausted, full of dead bodies of former selves Sunken blackened eyes, deep wrinkles in the forhead Hands that shake and hum, with no true stop A voice that is weak, fatigued at the mere action of speaking It is a trial of pain, that it has to go through No sense of peace or content, only dread and struggle Wandering aimlessly in a fog With no hope of finding direction Is this the fate we all share? This connective tissue of the human condition All that we are born to do, is simply exist With no real hope or happiness I do not wish to believe that to be so But, as these days grow longer And my will loses more and more petals I am unsure that I can see the better angels

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Oct 23, 2017

Oct 23, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC

Is This Our Shared Fate?

A body exhausted, full of dead bodies of former selves Sunken blackened eyes, deep wrinkles in the forhead Hands that shake and hum, with no true stop A voice that is weak, fatigued at the mere action of speaking It is a trial of pain, that it has to go through No sense of peace or content, only dread and struggle Wandering aimlessly in a fog With no hope of finding direction Is this the fate we all share? This connective tissue of the human condition All that we are born to do, is simply exist With no real hope or happiness I do not wish to believe that to be so But, as these days grow longer And my will loses more and more petals I am unsure that I can see the better angels

16

The vast shadows, that cross along the body of a doe Five legs that sink into the snow, hooves that are breaking The cabin above the tree line, in this valley of dead pines A solemn gaze upon a world that is sick and diseased

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Oct 22, 2017

Oct 22, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC

The Cabin

The vast shadows, that cross along the body of a doe Five legs that sink into the snow, hooves that are breaking The cabin above the tree line, in this valley of dead pines A solemn gaze upon a world that is sick and diseased

4

What we face in our lives, is the mistakes we are too afraid to acknowledge The hanging moss of our weeping limbs, hanging in bitter contempt of itself That wishes to find salvation from within, but only sees an abyss Here is our true tragedy, that keeps our skin grey with the thought of loss

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Sep 24, 2017

Sep 24, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC

Hanging Moss

What we face in our lives, is the mistakes we are too afraid to acknowledge The hanging moss of our weeping limbs, hanging in bitter contempt of itself That wishes to find salvation from within, but only sees an abyss Here is our true tragedy, that keeps our skin grey with the thought of loss

4

The soft piano tears of a bar, the somber lights dancing amongst dark suits and teary hands The presence of loneliness, the cusp of joy; always lingering on the neon angels How so many are lost, yet are in the same place How they are so alone, yet they are around one another The restrooms a bleak smile, as someone goes to approach Hands held in prayer, on tables of wood as old as the crucifix of Christ As the evening battles the sun, to smother it into the abyss Bodies with heat, yet no one seems to be living And if lord knows best, that are lives are chaotic Then this place is the calm in the storm But not a peaceful calm, an encumbering calm Where the screams stop, but the echoes still ring loudly With lights dim as assassinated blood, the fog of confusion and doubt Fills the space with a ghost, that haunts all within it But lord knows, that wishes want to be granted That shooting stars want to be real

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Jun 26, 2017

Jun 26, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC

Lord Knows Best

The soft piano tears of a bar, the somber lights dancing amongst dark suits and teary hands The presence of loneliness, the cusp of joy; always lingering on the neon angels How so many are lost, yet are in the same place How they are so alone, yet they are around one another The restrooms a bleak smile, as someone goes to approach Hands held in prayer, on tables of wood as old as the crucifix of Christ As the evening battles the sun, to smother it into the abyss Bodies with heat, yet no one seems to be living And if lord knows best, that are lives are chaotic Then this place is the calm in the storm But not a peaceful calm, an encumbering calm Where the screams stop, but the echoes still ring loudly With lights dim as assassinated blood, the fog of confusion and doubt Fills the space with a ghost, that haunts all within it But lord knows, that wishes want to be granted That shooting stars want to be real

16

How soft that world felt It was something very different No meandering in darkness Just walking among the sunlight But it was only temporary It was never to last And with my heavy eyes I stared at a sun

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Jun 26, 2017

Jun 26, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC

And, It Was Over

How soft that world felt It was something very different No meandering in darkness Just walking among the sunlight But it was only temporary It was never to last And with my heavy eyes I stared at a sun

8

Those dead, are abandoned We’ve cast them to the lands of Irrelevant, their struggle and suffering Were in vain and useless sacrifice Their progress was nothing The society called them sick We are the truly sick To cast their lives to the shadow lands And when the dawn of our ignorance Glitters across our ****** claws, and Illuminates the parasitical holy worm That’s in this black societal vessel We will know our true monstrosities That is ourselves

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Mar 28, 2017

Mar 28, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC

Monsters

Those dead, are abandoned We’ve cast them to the lands of Irrelevant, their struggle and suffering Were in vain and useless sacrifice Their progress was nothing The society called them sick We are the truly sick To cast their lives to the shadow lands And when the dawn of our ignorance Glitters across our ****** claws, and Illuminates the parasitical holy worm That’s in this black societal vessel We will know our true monstrosities That is ourselves

14