I heard a clock that made a moan which resonated with my past.
The trail of ashtrays that reminded me that I was last.
Boots was suffocating while a loud banging drum
**** biting lips emoji
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 12:12 PM UTC
THE NEXT TIME YOU FEEL LIKE DYING
I WANT YOU TO SIT DOWN
AND COOK UP EVERY POSSIBLE WAY OF DYING YOUR SILLY LITTLE MIND CAN BREW UP
AND IF JUST ONE OF THEM FEELS LIKE SOMETHING
YOU WOULDNT DARE TRY
THEN YOU ARENT READY TO DIE
*****
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 9:03 AM UTC
after that silent night, and that perilous walk
back to the door of your room,
not a foot on the tile, a tiptoeing file
we worked as one, trust in each others hands
but when you cared about silence, i cared about life
and the prospect of your disappearance
and a life without you
and you left me with a kiss though just on the forehead
and every single future that i had concocted laid dumbfounded
Nov 7, 2020
Nov 7, 2020 at 4:02 AM UTC
at night i retire, still bound in the deceptively inoccuous shackles of sentience, of knowledge, and of the existence of the truth. through the shy aperture, that fault in the conception of the walls, the layers of thing, of matter, and of idea concretized by that higher presence, that seeks so fervently to contain me, i am able to glimpse the moon.
and i intertwine with the moon that glimmers, taunting me with its promise of the sun, i witness its freckles move, take shape, and wrangle with and in itself yet maintain what a celestial dance, a dance that fools none since it seeks to fool none. it lingers about, no foot stepping on rock yet moping effortlessly through the lunar welkin. he was formless yet whole, like it were in the safe, warm flesh of its mothers insides that mimic a loving ***** its every move sends a sonic signal. i saw myself in such a celestial animation. before i was in air, i was in the moon sometime. before i was born, i was a moon thing just like him. before i knew, before i saw, before i spoke, i was the moon. before i was under this deception of life, and this promise of death, i was beautiful nothing, just like him
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 1:31 PM UTC
your mother sees only the sun, blind to the coming of the moon, the night, and the hunt
and thinks she does a good job
accepting death yet breathing life to your brothers,
her two favorite imps, devilish and diabolical
that thrash and wreak, lash and leap,
and thus feed off of your father, who remains bare chested and spread eagle
on the palisades that protect your land regal
arraigned by the debts wrought by your thrills
and his past that peeks yonder oer the hills
punished to see in fastened stills
as at noon everyday the ruthless harpy
perches on his body, a hearty feast on a body hardly
as he embraces closer the day he can holster
his triple fanged blade of pure gold bolster
with your mother your brothers and your whole kin
engraved on it.
for he can no longer call himself
a man
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
i stepped out of her pink, fleshy vessel and stepped on rudimentary rock polished by that primordial air here long before the land and water. i was born INTO the promise of death. all of us are
i play in the stomach of the demons, the presence of who begun and can thus cease; i wade against what seemed to be nothingness, yet i still feel my size, my shape, my skin, causated by the presence or the very prospect of that elusive matter. i revel, ignorant, the unwitting fugitive of eden. unknowing was i that every swing of my arm seeked to free me from the hold of this god, this thing, this being
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 1:26 PM UTC
i. i will no longer see people for how they may benefit me
ii. i will no longer go out of my way to destroy the relationships that i cherish
a. for the exclusive purpose of revitalizing my opinion on another relationship far beyond repair
iii. i will no longer treat my old friends like ****
iv. i will no longer watch my grandmother wade through electric bills
v. i will slap myself, berate myself, render separate from myself my knuckles and wrist, anything so i can come to my senses and realize my current being
a. i will no longer "feel detached" or "depersonalized"
- i will no longer make excuses that i thus live off of
vi. i will no longer live through another person
vii. i will no longer seek to cut the horns ive grown since birth
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 3:20 PM UTC