Second living day I rise.
Peace?
Love it must I.
Pretentious it must be.
    Sing pretend story fallacy design marker book.
Ataraxia?
Bullet point on my head.
Singing not caring that I must love I pretend.
Paint the world red this day I shall.
Pretending to care love sing dance must.
Didn’t matter anyways did it not.
Canister of lies.
Paper ran away yesterday evening already.
Papers with my notes on it.
Medical probably, or pretending to be.
Singing probably helps, let’s do that.
Singularity of the mind escapes to another plane.
Desire quench desire yet birth more desire.
    Lies desire must pretend singing why remember? must I there behold.
Still I can’t hear the meaning in their words.
The sun flash by like disco lights. And moon.
Never mind, this ends now.
A trigger word you say and I do it now.
Matter it will not love pretend.
    Never pretend love sing care anymore nothing—
There it is.
Let the world be clear.

Poetry is a window to the heart.
Poetry is like affectionate cries.
Poetry is my love, my language, my despair.
Let it be known, then, that
Poems shall be plentiful and abundant in this book of notes.
If nothing else, if not art, not music, then poetry is my soul.

And to you, the outsider, the trespasser,
Let it be known, if you are beholding my essence, then, that,
This is my soul, my palace, my poetry
And I demand thy respect.
But,
Still I pour out my waters for you, my blood for you,
It is only right that my vessel be empty and hollow.

Allow me to cast my being into these molds and colors,
That they crystalize into an effulgent matrix,
Constituting all that I am and could ever be.

The singsong voice cannot hear my cry.
The bars collapse along with their pry.
In dark, we stand 'gainst the test of time.
In night, we weep to the vict'ry of this mime.

"What colors will you weave to occupy forever?"
What weep, what woe, that this is the whole.
Linger in the darkness with eyes that foretold.
In the abyss, without company, ever and never.

Hey you, remember me?
I wonder what's on your mind right now
Is it
    The cries of wrath
    The laughs of scorn
    The quiet of grief
    The seeking of worth

Or is it
    The cries of joy
    The laughs of friendship
    The quiet of satisfaction
    The seeking of good rest

Oh, sorry, the cat just jumped on the table.
I'll let her speak a while.
Ffggg yvjvuugbybyhhjh unhf
That's enough for now.
See you tomorrow!

It begins to rain.
Some droplets here and there,
Uninteresting to say the least,
Yet it will suffice for now.

It begins to pour.
The sky darkens, the wind blows,
An applause for the beauty of this song,
And it ought to suffice for now.

It begins to storm.
The heavens split into a multitude,
The cries of the winds and earth ravaging all,
It is sufficient now.

It begins to fall.
The clouds shatter, the mirror breaks,
The weeping and mourning continue,
It is overwhelming now.

But yonder,
It is raining somewhere else.

He stares into the eye of that deceased,
And quietly whispers: "It's okay."
With gentle hands he puts her down,
And rise from his statuesque pose.

We often try to land with some fashion,
A trickshot or a backflip.
But sometimes it is better to just,
Keeping falling for a while longer.

Just remember when you stand again,
To try not to rot away, please.

An artist walked this plane of woe,
Where thought would never give you foes,
A tri-sect star could put to show,
An angel in the form of does.

So sweet and were we that day,
And ever lost in fools that play,
That none could see that rotting fame,
Which brought to us our greatest clay.

Had you been there to see that blight,
Perchance you may have solve this fight,
But ne'er was ease a glass soul's mate,
Those colors did tell us our night.

So no, I say, to this request,
For naught could I give to this fest,
And disturb us our dreams.

Out of thought, out of naught, out of thought, out of fault-
Where is it? Where indeed-
Cyclical to the end, and the beginning-
Unresolved, out of whack, spinning and spinning onward and onward-
And backwards, to whereto?-
Falling and falling-

crack

What was that?

Emptiness erupts from in the shell,
Roaring the song of the heart.

Out of thought, out of naught,
Out of thought, out of naught,
Logic ceased before I remembered to think.
Thinking and thinking and-

It looks,
The 2 colors mix and match and become everything,
The maze warp to their ego,
Running and running and-

Threading my way through the forest of *******,
The trails end and begin together,
Here and nowhere,
Foward and backward and-

Raise your arm 30° upward,
Point your hand towards the sky,
Spin round 3 times.
Elegance of the unspoken still spinning and spinning and-

Winds are like shears that cut open the skin,
The branches cannot break my fall,
Spinal disconnection.
Still falling and falling and-

crack

Run, and do not look back.
Temptations lie close at hand.
Do not fall into their lies.

>                   Crashing,                                  wavering.
            ­  Singing         some                     emptied          song,
       Tossing away          the                worthless              thing.
Amidst the endless                     storms of this sea.
Where no cries could be        heard. Not unlike those,
chambers of madness. Where no song can reach; no wave can crash; no will to seize; no life can live; no dream to foam. And all reduce to

an empty song.

They say that windows are beautiful.
Elegant, truly, and crafted with mastery.
Especially the stained-glass windows,
They shatter so easily.

They say eyes are like
windows to the heart.
But yours are ever blind,
And mine are ever lost.

Haha
Haha
It makes me insane
It makes me cry
Is it a joke?
Is it a song?
I guess we'll just never know

Oh dear
Oh God
I've stopped existing
I've stopped living
For long as I breathe it aches
For long as I live it pains
Reset, reset, now please

Haha
Haha
This is all so boring

Haha
Haha
This is all pointless

A child's playing
A happy ending
(I want to just end this *)

A grieving lame
A crying kinda fame
(I want to just end this *)

Oh, oh
Can you cure this kind of despair?
Can you fix this kind of despir?
It makes me insane
It makes me cry
Can you?
Can you?

The reason I feel this kind of pain, oh oh
The reason I feel this kind of way, oh oh
Is only because I have seen what else there is
Only because I've seen too much

Is it a joke?
Is it a song?
Crying ever on,
Holding the shovel in my hands, shaking

For long as I breathe it aches
For long as I live it pains
Who cares about ethics?
Who cares about morals?

Haha
Haha
What does all of this mean?
I wish
I wish
For all life to decease!

Like rays of judgment.
Like seeds of love.
Like beads of wrath.
Like those of madden gods.
Like pills of incontinence.
Like marbles of glass.
Like the will to grief.
Like those of an innocent child.