Monsoon morning glow, glinting off another dying ditch
Littering, barely twitching instrument of compact destruction.

Noticeably different, near juxtaposed against the back light.
Noticeably strained, a coming age relegated to natural composition

It's hard to hold, memory, fragile fleeting
Slipped from its hold so easily, another piece shattering as it falls.

Repetition breeding more empathy than I can continually malign.
Forceful premonitions, until the choice to deny is taken from me.
All my thoughts, premeditated, actions, all deliberate
The illusion of choice shattered before me, as I take up my ill gotten arms.

Bolster myself with courage I no longer deserve.

And I get scared about just having to wake up sometimes.
Dumb
Saint Audrey Jul 1
And I did feel the hands of flightless nights
The gentle pull of fear, mixed into the very heart of bravado
The slightest brush of something wholesome to be found
In a mixture of perverse excitement.

To be found and lost at the same time, the most delicate balance to strike.

Genuine emotion, and the feeling of finding some camaraderie
A shared connection to be found within the binding of togetherness
All for a common intent
An extended hand, reaching out every member

At the peak of deprivation, I've only felt empty
Yet It encompasses completely, immersive like a dream
I comply wholeheartedly
For a poor and bitter end, no doubt
But an airing of my personal grievance, I can't imagine a worse outcome

Segregate, more than human kind all brought together
The kind of closed off system that one can only find in narratives
Completion of which results in a stark understanding that
Time passes
Saint Audrey Jun 30
Stake clame to all
You left behind you
Your wake is odd
What i know to be true
Will all compose
With repition
But all devolves

lay claim to all, but reservations
Play through my mind
With this stagnation
So hard to find
My inhibitions
Left me behind



Rejecting all
Even what's true
Lament the waste, so much potential
Infecting thoughts
Of reclamation
In favor of
This superficial lie

Stake claim to all
You left behind you
Your wake is odd
What i know to be true
Will all compose
With repetition
But all devolves

Stipulations of the dead

A candle burning in my head  

Equally wrong choices, with dire stakes
Options weighed, time again

Derived presets, and presupposition
Derivative garbage,  heaped on a clean slate
And left for a lifetime
Of horrid substitutions
Saint Audrey Jun 27
A blinding
Hopeless inclination towards a blending of nostalgia
And something just a twinge surreal.
Too enraptured, perhaps, or too locked inside the senses
The search takes me places, to small shards that I don't quite comprehend.
Still unsure why, if I can't, or I just don't want to.

Silently sipping dime store coffee from an old familiar mug.
Soaking in solitude, rife with memory.
Touched lightly by the hem of rose tint, blooming in the spreading flames.
As the old wooden paneling, tried as a tinderbox
Begins to peel away, affected by the heat.
A fire, awakening with the first rays of morning.
To warm up the little room, as the walls softly fall, turning to ashes.
Revealing the bare frame.
And the fauna outside begins to show itself
Sprinkled with dew, gently turning away the flames.
Contained to her walls, they smolder and die as the day takes its course.

But for now, I still crawl through creation.
Hopeless, I'll never recapture...
Ignoring new context, engulfed in a rapture
With the past still dancing through my head.
Saint Audrey May 20
I held in vain
The hope that you'd change
And stop making me feel
Like I'm doing something wrong

In future, will, tended to how it ends, etched into the slate
Ground straight through our skin from birth, what we choose to replicate
Pointless as a new endeavor, still, another sick debate
Debased all sense of decency, enough to incriminate

Hopeless days
Keep passing by
Complete and vacant
Yet I still try

Arguably, far too jaded for this measure of reality
Wrested from our nestled coffins, directly into sleep
Fleeting things, though labeled clearly, time will never tell
Entrancing, some formality, a sliver of repetition is

But I stayed
The same
For all this time
In the hopes
You'd see me off

Still, crawling to the overture, slight against the weak
Long, death still operates, each future growing bleak
Shrouded heart of all uncertainty, for myths, voluminous  
Captive, my apotheosis, in a metric of release

At the end
I still respect
The autonomy, I can see you smile
So go ahead
I won't keep you waiting
Mood
Saint Audrey May 2
I sought out just what I've become

Numb to trepidation, apposed to emotions
I choke on sensations, opening to oceans
Of blood soaked remnants I can't fathom
Begin to comprehend, or otherwise justify
To myself

And It's square on my shoulders

If I like it or not

Sating my lust for life, finding out how
To revel in spite, in spite of myself, honestly
Grating, the thoughts that haunt me through
Sleepless hours and all the mindless rambling I do
To myself

I wanted to change, and I did

I did change

Bought at the current rate
Life condensed to a price
I wanted everyone to pay
Besides me. Never me

I thought it free, until someone came around with
The promise that they'd take it all away

Breaking ground, like the words I said
What I say in my day to day
Breaking ground, foray into something
I'd call a grave mistake

Try to justify it, screaming at the sky
Trying hard to hide what I swear I left behind
Blame it on society. A scapegoat that never falters
Hurdles that I prayed would change, and yet
They never falter
So, I blame it on you, and then you blame it on me

I blame it on myself

...

I blame myself.

What it always comes down to

And I turned into what I had always planned to turn into
Go figure.
Saint Audrey Apr 21
Classic trepidation, stationary with the aura of
Coincidence, slit myself and call it skyward thinking
Sinking feelings that argue for a sudden resignation
Conscientiousness, leprous and typesetting

Intimate knowledge that I disclose verbatim cannot, and should not, ever be used against me.
Interest infected through wavelengths, non responsive partly cause of the rupturing that's been running through my dreams.
Scant as fixes to the problems, overblown and oft forgotten, lisping when I speak of this Epiphany.
Taxidermist furnish houses, howling wolves that get devoured, sounds like God and hell and them finally worked out peace.

Just cosmetic, slightly pathetic the ease at which the mind elapses
Classics retconned till nothing's left except the years of influence
Invested in the melancholy, snobs lobbyist and in distant memories
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