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torak
I am a man, living day by day plagued by my thoughts. / / Is this reality, or a mere illusion? / / Aware of consciousness.
Whispering amongst ourselves reciting incantations proclaiming proclivity while **** stirs caustic to repertoire indecisive to belief creating choices to avoid time in our space
0
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 10:54 AM UTC
While
Aimless in all that isn't, finding myself along the marginals while limelight is too sour to make lemonade breaking even improbable with weight serrated worthwhile; a high that has been sought stretching and searching unwilling to contend waiting and wondering whenever it wills
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC
What
Aimless yet forceful paradoxing symphonies written within the milliseconds of a blink, spiraling sanity nicknamed hurricane, ignorance deciding which, where hesitations hold universes all in themselves. Fixating incessanties as if perception is a prescription of consciousness, waiting for sense to be deposited uptook Claustrophobic in open areas where loneliness stands and sticks to skin an unscrubabble tattoo stories told never heard
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Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
Back flip
Incorrigibility being the high never worth chasing while watching the same mistake repeat a broken record for the deaf where wondering is criminal the good guy was never golden tar black just better at glimmering Diamonds are created under immense amounts of pressure over limbs of time fetishizing patience Watching everything obsess what it is not futility is too humid to vacation in
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Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
A Break
married misanthropically disproportionate in personality the indifference is enough to make anyone nostalgic for balance humorous how we search for the things outside of our box all the while staring at it from the holes inside of our selves paranoia proves incessant when dating doubt becomes a priority personifying characters we never chose to be in hopes of being more than another shell at the beach
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Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
Grain
while the feeling becomes transparent the lines become opaque yet translucent where they overlap involuntary nausea becomes a daytime mugging metaphors sour similes slur when smiles slip hesitations are noxious when desire is omnipotent worthwhile is a conversation we avoid with ourselves sacrificing sanctity for sanity or what we believe it to be Drinking for an unquenchable thirst ironic but desperate nonetheless half empty half full it will still be drank.
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Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 9:29 PM UTC
thirsty
Narcotic haze distracting yet influential while i'm below it radiating confusion where madness becomes comfortable drawing out of the lines only to erase them with a sigh of relief draining blood from a stone synonymous with making it worthwhile while fury grips tethering edges tilting consciousness the see-saw will break before anyone gets off
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Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
untitled
Bleak doctrines wandering wisps of wit with congested callous coffins in their wake waves watching wishing when silence strikes and speaks longer listings that get louder as violence peaks crudely unrefined found in the darkness without a sight one of a kind the crack in the dark and slip for the light
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Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 10:39 PM UTC
Cliche
Emboldened by hyphenated misanthropy cautious of vibrating swapping stories with storks sharing salvation amongst sycamores if surreptitious shores could whisper secrets to tides similar to seraphim shining star light the dark awfully mournful would the two dance further than space and time confined by nothing the neurotic romance bewildering reminding them both how empty they are without one another
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Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC
Duo
When I lost my innocence, my sanity Went on a binge that has lasted Years, and it hasn’t visited in a while Nights spent staring at blank walls Trying to make sense of something That just doesn’t The hysteria is maddening when The voice in your head doesn’t answer Where do wandering lost souls venture to Or do they stick around their tragedies I feel my past selves attempting to drown My happiness, every time it stops by The moments fleet But the carved manic lunacy remains
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Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 11:54 AM UTC
What is lost is rarely returned