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Let's do another line
Of powdered sleep
Swim the oceans
With Hypnos
Tumble down in the deep
Dream of beauty
And horror
And nothing at all
You feel it so real
Sure as you're stuck to this ball
When your dreams
Are mostly disasters
Which are usually caused by your actions
You awake
It takes a couple of beats
To realise
The current apocalypse
Isn't happening.
I am the blackened
Ashen goat,
Of a black mass.

Triumph of will
And,
Hate.

Churned by a carnal charnel house,
Of blood
And meaty pieces,
Of flesh.

I am the aftermath,
Of an aborted anathema.

Anachronistic,
Iconoclastic,
Filth,
And,
I grovel-
In my disorder.

A barren desolate beast,
Of all nations.

I am the sin eater.

Death of Jacob,
I am Esau.

Undomesticated man,
The bearer of dark,
Light.

The feral fornication,
Of the fauna.

I am a plant that eats life.

Numbers 28:22
“And one goat for a sin offering, to make an atonement for you.”
The matter said to the math,
I change,
and so do you.

As the ego said to the spirit,
My will shapes your tint,
I control,
You obey.

Anatman?
No self?

No,
Self,
Is supreme.

Nix,
The demon buddha,
Of Naraka.

When the Assura,
Ascended over virtue,
By virtue,
Of existing.

Reality is not light and transcendent,
It is vile ugly truth,
I am I?

Well,
Certainly not me.
 Jun 22 Traveler
Viktoriia
you can't stop hearing it,
that signal, being transmitted
on all channels,
filling those frequencies to the brim.
not a single gap in between
for your own voice;
too quiet for others to notice,
loud enough to make you paranoid.
what if they know it's there,
but would rather pretend
for the sake of not getting involved
with another basket case?
what if there's no one else?
what if you made them up
so that you wouldn't feel as lonely?
the ups and downs of laughter,
interrupted by helpless sobs.
there might be someone out there,
but all you hear is noise;
too distant for others to notice,
too intrusive for you to ignore.
transmitted on all channels,
not a single pause in between
for your own voice
sending out a distress message,
wondering if anyone knows
you're still here.
Life is a train bound for the divine,
many souls will get on and off.
Some will reach the last stop,
and others will get off early.
Some will get on by mistake,
and others will sit comfortably.
Enjoy your journey, "and remember to leave your luggage before the end."
Though tomorrow is there,
But I won't be there.
Nobody care.
World doesn't stop for any one of us.
People come and go.

The sky will still be blue,
While mine remains dark.

I won't be there.
It's just another candle burning
But now it's dim.

Though tomorrow is there,
I won't be there.
Although never mine....
I am still here,
spine bowed like prayer on the floor ,
heart burning like a candle
you forgot to blow out.


Come home,
when your hands remember our softness.
I’ll be waiting—
still yours,
still lit,
still aching.
Love, is waiting.
 Jun 22 Traveler
Viktoriia
there are no greetings,
no farewells,
they cross the line
and leave unnoticed.
a solemn choir of silenced voices
repeating an outdated prayer.
there is no god to hear them out,
their hope is but an empty promise.
they find their rest
in nameless graves
and die the way they lived,
unnoticed.
She's so **** cute!
It's hard to believe,
this perfect girl could ever see,
even the least little something in a guy like me.

Introverted and shy, just an average guy,
who's somewhat daft with a pen.

Plying rhythmic schemes
on this girl of my dreams,
hoping somehow to win.  

To win her favor
to hold her hand,
to kiss her lips so fair.

Really, could my words touch her heart?
Will she even care?

Every Poets torment,
every Poets despair
That the desires of his heart
should fall on deaf ears.

But occasionally he is heard
sometimes she even clings on every word
and falls just as deeply as he.

And that my friends is why
this Joe Average guy,
learned to pour his heart out in poetry.
If you're not handsome, rich, or athletic
learn to write poetry. LOL
Worked ok for me!
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