It's been said once and it will be said many more times before this world is no longer in existence: the demons in our nightmares our reflections of our own lives.
Taking in truth and lies mixed with 6 billion differing perceptions can create one hell of a gruesome monstrosity, potentially unbearable to the weak minded **** wandering this rock.
This timeline is nothing but a river; constantly flowing and moving forward,
teeming timelessly along and never slowing for anything.
Existing with the only purpose of not existing,
but a vessel for us to keep track of events passing;
never to return to, but always to dwell on,
forever until it's memory is in existence of no living person.
The stark maddening darkness as well as the blinding goodness of the light; these things exist because we have given them the possibility to.
It is because of us that we give these ideas of dark and light the breath of life. It was here before our carbon based meat sacks arrived, causing changes that WE see fit;
ignoring the higher power that obviously will infinitely hold more importance than we will ever understand.
That's why we ignore it.
If we can't see it, it doesn't exist.

But if one belief--one single slice of faith perseveres among the unimaginable number of nonbelievers can change things; turn the tables, change history...


This timeless river of existence; why does it matter?
So we can be immortalized into whatever form or idea we wish?
To make a certain history for others to either never repeat resulting in insanity--or to repeat in hopes of reliving the greatness of others before us.

If all of our solid nightmares became reality; if 6 billion individual demons constantly existed by our sides becoming physically a part of us and breaches the mental barrier, exiting the realm of impossibility and stepping onto firm warm soil and sand.

What the **** would we do then?

The river never flows over the same rock twice.

Catapault me into chaos,
I wish to get a little closer.
Your tainted eyes speak to me.
I wish to get to know you,
just a little bit better.

If I can handle it,
I'll stick around and play.
Too much pain is a killjoy.
If it burns too much,
I'll blow out the fire someday.

Criss-crossdresser,
I'm seduced into your submission.
My identity remains in shambles,
I'll see you on the otherside,
as I walk through this transition.

A possible phase,
or a permanent reside?
I am lost in mindless self indulgence.
If I dance in the rain,
I'll no longer have to hide.

An eternal blue flame,
made of youth and spirit.
Love could only feed the madness.
To remain the same,
is something my mind could never inhabit.

So dance, and dance,
and sing the tunes of duality.
I experiment with composure.
And once I find balance,
my dream will be that much closer

The time has passed. How quickly the changing of times has made us. Spring is up. Summer is in. Let the party begin. Am I to wither in self-loathing forever? Never. Am I to bury myself in self-pity? Probably, but not entirely. One thing is for sure though. I will always remain hollow, because in the end, there is nothing left for me to follow.

Stricken by the absence of color,
and the absence of rainbows that once sung to me.

Nullified and numbed by the irrationality of my ego,
and my hatred for sanity.

These are punctured wounds by the hands of the stained glass,
as this shattered hourglass speaks gibberish to me.

I'll take all the blame,
it was all my fault anyways.

As if my world wasn't trippy enough,
the only thing standing in my way is you.

So let violence sing one last time...
Scream for me poetry.

They dance like the little ***** they are.
One man's pain is another man's pleasure.
Gratification is met when my **** meets your tight grip,
but has this gone too far or should I hold it in?
It lingers, it holds, it chokes my very chest.
There is no beat, but the pounding still persists.
Gravitate, levitate, initiate desire.
I have no such fire,
but the blue flame guides my heat.
They go hand in hand.
*** and pain, invigorating yet nullifying.
This numb soul holds onto too many shadows,
and this ecstasy can only be held for so long...

These voices won't leave me alone.
They praise me,
then make fun of me.
They envy me,
and then call me a ******.
I'm not an *******,
and I try not to be.
I don't try to be kool.
but that's the impression,
they seem to get from me.
Even when alone,
they plague me.
Even when my thoughts make sense,
they somehow crumble apart.
Logic attempts to guide me,
delusions get in the way.
"They don't exist,"
I tell myself.
Then what are they,
and what the **** do they want?

Blood red ****. Stupid **** demise. Tainted ****** lines. Everyone, I despise. Makes no sense. Lack of grammar. Structure? Senseless. In regards to your thoughts, I'll cherish. They build character. **** this story. **** it dry. *** on the screen. You ***** little eyes.