Days are not won
Time is not done
As it comes is as it should
All that’s done is all that could
Until tomorrow
Where life is sorrow
Let love be comfort
Something a hunter could never perceive
Seeking what comes after seeking’s reprieve
The seed of acceptance, now planted
Let its hallowed branches reach my hands
And command me
For as long as I’m standing
And as long as the phantom of suffering insists it’s candid contempt
All that’s left
Will be all that sends me into its arms
Charming it can be
But I’ve grown to see
Nothing comes without leaving
Scenes exist, and then they’re dreams
Appease yours
And implore you’re sordid, foretold, worth onto this ordered, and forsaken, world..

the machined being
control or be so
manufacture hope

the machined being
plastic or be so
molded misanthropes

the machined being
alone or at home
the phone doesn't know

the machined being
control or be so
fight or let go
finish or fold
at the cold feet of time
father might have met his match

Started to early
mourning mornings never had
together passes

The things we say,
made into something other,
anagrams discovered,
mumblings muttered unclearly,
reprieve me,
for, these games are deceiving ,
just yell for to leave
or my company,
maybe then I can sleep.

Once upon a time stood still,
assurance wilted,
uncertainty lilts
from forlorn to guilty,
what will she choose
the velvet noose,
the jagged truth,
russian roulette
with two bullets left,
labeled, bereft,
designed for bloodletting,
let one in,
let the chamber sing its victory,
as history swallows the other,
silver heartbreaker,
make up your mind.

underneath the bridge
clarity bids its riddle
ceding overpass

sweet oblivion
come take today from my hands
nothing plans demise