Freuds lament meant that a pen is a *****
I comment
Hi I am Sebastian
I’m an addict
Addicted to frantic erratic language
In what language am I babbling in - can’t quit - can't resist
Grappling this black pen with smeared hands
Grasp the ******* thing
And ink
Panicking again
Where squids swam
Here stands a weird man
Trapped in a stare match
With miasmic abyss
It’s scary ****
As hearing camera flashes
Dancing bare ***
Unaware as to
where the camera is
Can’t fathom it
An ensnaring act
Grabbing talons
Talented career paths
Disappear fast
With mirror battling
The mere craftsmanship
And mad man’s wit
Embarrassing as still asking, unaware as to what is happening
With clear answers apparent still Years pass years after still ain’t clear after asking this
This is maddening
Reappearing patterns still amass
And thinking different things will happen if in fact I can persist
The same **** happens
That ***** batshit
What if
This madness catches
That is bad
As lit matches
Catching mattress lint
I fear I did damage to my
Amygdala oblongata as a kid
Again and again
Damm habits
Still
I amass amazing
Paragraphs saturations
A hue is soothing
To translucent humans
Like my time as a youth spent
School bench doodling
Pulled the blue pen through the movements maneuvered cerulean loops drew huge dudes and exuberant protruding ***** for my youths amusement
Nowadays I fetching the meddling
Red pen sent from heaven making corrections, leveling mistakes begging for a reckoning, making more of less, settling scores, enabling communications less deafening, less beckoning, helping to get a sense of my best and when i left my element. what I might write with my white pen is
silence,
enticing I think.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 7:25 AM UTC
I can dream up
A story told time and time
Again,
She waits for somebody else
She's well kept, well dressed
Red dress, red lace caress her arms, sitting with legs crossed across the bar
And this my story to tell
So I say she’s a redhead
And by no means a means to an end
Keeps herself under her own agency
She chooses her sutors or men
I get her because she gets me
A weight less heavy
Each day less deadly
A chase paced more steadily
A waiting for change
Maybe today
I meet that special lady
That pretty Penny
That sense of making
Change more weighty
waiting less
on anybody elses
Heavy chains to break off
When the the day is done
And I get a break
But today
I was late because I overslept
Once again
Overdreamt
And now I never get to meet
This lady made up of the stuff dreams are made of
After hours
Sitting just across the way
Because today I get laid
Off
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 10:22 PM UTC
Spun as she drunk from wrong cup… Dot dot dot
****** up
Cut from mind, torn ******
Love song, rough one
Nylon, cries, both died inside
Thoughts of Mom & pops
Someone’s loved one, pop club wub wub dub dub
“Love” drugs, ****** up…
Kiss these ellipses
Keep being strong
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Daddy-o
First off, I hate this
I want to be able to say this, face to face
I keep second guessing myself
Unable to formulate even basic sentiments
I respect you, although I never felt you taught me to respect myself
As my own worst enemy, it's your words I use to hurt myself endlessly.
Secondly, even my efforts against this me, have had little more effect than a restless peace. I have fought the steppenwolf bracingly, even embraced the peace. But I’ve yet to eradicate the behavioral mistakes I make, it seems. I get stuck doing wrong turns, sonder under undercurrents, waves circle back on themselves again and again indefinitely.
I help myself get upset, get wet, drown myself in debt. Then beg, for you helping me. And that you did, amazingly. So this is a thank you, I guess.
I love you, won't ever love you any less.
And I am a rain dog, stuck in perpetual everchanging groundhog days. My missteps surprises no one but myself.
No help from anyone else will change this me. I am able direct myself once again, i’ve led myself astray. Make amends, make a straightaway out of this ever bending way, which could end up, ending me.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 12:32 AM UTC
I've been blazing through these pages, a daily duty
Wit withered away with daily doobies
These ladies with beautiful names
I use to make use of any human, I met who moved me
But these ladies, these brainy beauties
With grace and ageless folly
With so much to give
And so much to take in
Plainly makes me amazed
And jolly, I guess in a way they taught me
Awe,
And to never waste waning words with
Vain and cocky tales of some form of me
I’ve felt, but never comfortably
Presented
Especially not to these brainy beauties
Jaw dropping dripping hotties
Hot chocolate melting on top
Of a fugde sundae
Hot and cold, every sensation felt
As they enter and escape from me
The best blend
Blessed I guess
Nevertheless
Best left to rest
These brainy beauties
With grace and booties
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 12:13 AM UTC
Hi i’m Sebastian
i’m an addict
Addicted to frantic
Spastic language
After ages
Of Procrastinating
i lacked the panache.
But as of lately
That is changing
My imagination
Have replaced the
Manic ************
The crass habit of
Having laughs
From dating
A relaxing
Callous lady
Validated
By an affidavit
Now i’m Exasperated
i amass amazing
Paragraphs’ saturation
A translucent human
Finds a hue soothing
Like my time as a youth spent
School bench-doodling
i pulled the blue pen
Through the movements
Maneuvered cerulean loops
Drew crude dudes and
Exuberant protruding *****
For a youths amusement
Freud’s lament meant that
A pen is a *****
i comment these tittles of i’s
Are eyes at a zenith
With these i see things
Don’t ask what an asterisk is
But believe me i’ve seen it
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
The things he does for love, he’s wont to let it walk across all forms of cusps in his thoughts. Or cross all sorts of borders in his head. He wants to overcome. This is what he’s lauded for. It won’t be what he does it for.
He finds heights frightening. Climbing. Hiking. Any altitude above sea level makes him feel unsettled. He’s fearful. He presses a hand to his chest, lets his breath settle into a better pace. Greenish shades paints his cheeks, pale in the face. A ghastly grimace. Visions. Images. Picturing himself slipping, or tripping into the ominous abyss. And even worse that she falls with him.
Frivolous lips kisses his temple, those rosey lips makes him less fretful. Holding her hand helps him stand, helps him settle. The lips asks if perhaps they should turn back. His hand relaxes before further clenching his grasp. Tells himself that there’s no turning back, he claims it would be wasteful. For him to overcome they would need to press through.
“I do this for you”
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 7:09 AM UTC
The cursing from behind the curtain
Footsteps loom - soon the gloom
Is fading, soon a light blooms –
Illuminating the edging
of this room’s draping
Do you dare draw back my curtain? -
Fore my heart harbors hatred, it only worsens
when you appear to divulge my death diligently.
For my love of life, simply spread extensively
so - lo and behold - you hold aloe in your ecstasy.
You left my life in brevity, akin a living enemy,
pedantry and jealousy torn ye heart asunder,
Solely at the thought of your loving maiden’s wonders.
So, you had the magic of Fra Pandolf,
you ask him to trap me on a mantle.
“That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive.” I bawl
and sob, - so frightened - as you recall the night when
Fra Pandolf’s drawing caught my likeness.
I am now caught inside it, you hold court before me
Talk of passion, power and –and of course- our sordid story
I saw you order sell-swords to execute me
Peasants pulled me to the roof, whence they threw me
Now you see me cursed with wrath
When you pull this curtain back
Not a word is heard, Alas
‘Till this castle burns to ash
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
Shall I be your kin?
Void of choice ‘for
Thou are chosen
Love does not befit me
For I am only fifteen
And you, man of god,
Is six-hundred-and-sixty-si..
Nay Fifty
Christened and praised
Your lessons be paced
Whips when enraged
Your holy spirit I *******
Father, Does the feather features of my upper lip
Besiege you?
Does the pale hair
On my male chest
Deceive you?
I do not see you as
An equal
I see you as evil
My pubescent sense
Does not allow me to
Laugh out loudly at the irony
This is not my mouth, see
I cannot speak
I am not me
I am sodomized
Wistful I wish you
Would become ******
Wish my lips grew fanged
If my jaws could dismember
I’d pull you bare with bound wrist through
The bank
Pitiful
my knife will kiss you,
I thank you for every crystal
From your bleeding hands
This will do
This I will remember
Lord, why have you left him?
I thought a life in the lords light
Was to the betterment of man
And mankind
Not the remembrance of
The sins of bitter men
Guide them
O, Lord
When Chastity turns nasty
Do thou turn the other cheek?
Or chastise and despise the animosity?
Dozily
Lord, why do you test me?
Lord, have you left me?
He has come in again but
The doors open suddenly
As I look back in awe
A light shines in
A shock settles
A shadow in the door
Pleasant perfumes meddle
With the wretched room
A sense of hope
A sense of security embezzled
More abuse of my vessel
A second coming
Confronting
A poor response from the Lord
I turn my other cheeks
Raise my chin
I detest a morning sun
Come
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
To-day we have repetition of parts.
Yesterday we had yesterday, tomorrow morning, we have tomorrow morning.
but to-day, To-day we have the repetition of parts.
While spies under the guise of dark, disguise our art.
To-day we have the repetition of parts.
To-day we have retaliation of their arts, yesterday we had yesterday, tomorrow morning, we have tomorrow; mourning.
But to-day, to-day we have replication of parts.
Bright minds might find a start, but requital is the name of our art.
To-day we have a revenge on our part.
To-day we have the reappropriation of purple hearts,
yesterday we had yesterday,
and the morrows sorrow follow furrowed brows on our enemies part.
Harrowing barrows and gallows are swallowed, by the dark.
Redundancy is a common commodity of ours.
To-day we have a thorough reconnaissance of our purplish hearts, yesterday will bring young blood to further our course.
to-day we will re-vitalize their wars, and re-cycle their arms.
We will retaliate, for every heart they have scarred.
To-night we will light up the dark. Insha’Allah.
To-night we have reciprocation of parts; re-coil; re-load; re-align reticle,
re-coil; re-load; re-align reticle; re-coil; re-load; rinse and re-peat.
a place of peace seems preposterously far,
as we keep firing into the dark.
To-day we have reciprocation of parts.
To-day we have repetition of parts.
Yesterday we had yesterday, tomorrow morning, we have tomorrow morning.
but to-day, To-day we have the repetition of parts.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC