As I walk across a pathway a heartbeat's width across a floor,
A peculiar sensation finds me wanting of an explanation to adore,
Not a feeling of a feeling, I don't have those anymore,
I can rip open my chest cavity to find nothing at its core.
-
I saw a young fine thing come cantering to a score,
And in her eyes I saw reflected back my lust for gore,
I didn't think of love or courting, that I do stately implore,
I have no idea how I could have had emotion before.
-
Incurring inferences upon  deranged insanity,
I deny the charges and insist I must be free,
With my generation crawling at my likeminded feet,
I find myself unable to believe in humanity.
-
An algorithmic synapse of my mind's forward encryption,
Once brought about my failure of a heart's lonely submission,
And to this day I do wish that bitter was a real decision,
But I find something close to comfort with indifference as religion.

Thank you all for all the love. It means the world to me. If you wanna get down to a personal level with me (anything from emailing work for critique, or just to be buddies) then by all means. Again, thank you guys.
Cheers,
Andrew

Hakrim13@gmail.com
Requiemandrevelation.tum­blr.com
Instagram/Twitter: @AndrewRequiem
Or feel free to message on here.

I found her near a large Oak in the woods,
Not far from where that old cabin stood,
She was sputtering blood and not far from death,
I hadn't much water, but I gave her what was left,
Her eyes so weary and the purest black,
I felt heartless and wondered what her attacked,
Her wounds malicious and so very deep,
Yet she didn't convulse or even weep,
The Sun was almost rising then,
I wondered what compelled such men,
She had been, the passed night, all alone,
I knew all she wanted was Home,
And slowly her eyes went right to mine,
At that moment, I knew inside,
I watched every ounce pass from this life,
I sat there, pathetic, wondering if I could cry,
I heard her last painful and drowning breath,
She heard, like a gavel, my passing steps.

I will never forget your ugly face,
I'll grow sleepless at night in your disgrace,
At what measure do you think my hatred ends?
I want your pulse to race, quicken,
I want your insides to explode and infect,
I want to be the one to dissect,
I need to feel and see your lament,
You'll ******* boot you ******* insect.

"Every now and again, it feels as if life begins to end"
But on the rare occasion where, lost  in memory again,
I think of being young and finding comfort in the rain,
And growing up so quickly, that nothing is the same.
-
A gentle flash in mind back to those summer days,
To the sweet taste of tea, to the Mississippi waves,
I remember a hollow road betwixt Magnolia trees in bloom,
The oily green leaves, and cloudy white bulbs do my mind consume,
Walking up to school with childlike innocence in tow,
Once happy with everything, a feeling since then stowed,
I seem to recall my first best friend,
He was thirteen, I was but nine then,
I had found my first wisdomless idol,
And sorrowed life had yet to trifle,
With anything yet passed to me,
With roots like this, how could one hate everything?
The warm grass itchy with Saturday's chores,
The sun loved the shadow that I now abhor,
I miss this careless beauty right to my core,
What was once my  home, Alabama, I adore.

One peculiar dark, and frigid night,
I took to gaze upon the somber light,
Not quite illustrious in their sight,
Yet were inspiration to thoughts contrite,
Acutely I felt, as it were,
To hearing the Biblical thunder,
Yet I could see no seal asunder,
I stared up and began to wonder.
-
They seemed so organic, yet lifeless and vexed,
They  betray one another leaving wake perplexed,
Their existence, a lie to live so convex
The lust, crave-less, without love or ***,
And as my lungs filled again with smoke,
A steady exhale belied when I spoke,
Softly and gentle, hardly a croak,
A whisper perhaps, of a hatred invoked.
-
It  seems to me that this beautiful sky
Is but an illusion, a trick on the eye,
This precious star was dead before we saw its light,
Its life meaningless, a piteous invite,
To feign the bane of the rain's reigning vain hope,
Is to stifle the wonderous seeds of the brain's growth,
Therefore it must be pointed out that meaning is meaningless,
Everything up there was dead long before we noticed.

I only exist,
"Life" is meaningless,
The Disease
Referred to as "Humanity",
The dereliction of society,
Maniacal and left wanting,
Is wont to tragedy, the haunting
feeling of regression,
Our worthless race is lost.