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Sep 2016 · 403
Broken Glass.
A broken glass lay on the floor,
It had never occurred to me before,
That this image of a vessel shattered,
To someone might have truly mattered,
It could have held a liquid hope,
It could have contained a loving note,
It might’ve meant the world to them,
Thirsty now, unquenched then,
It must’ve fallen from a perfect table,
A dismal ending to an abysmal fable…
To put such emphasis on metaphor,
Will lead you where you were before,
The glass was empty, as always, like us
We will break too, meaningless.
Sep 2016 · 406
Ignorance Of The Unaware.
Make me
Begin a commitment
A livid, frigid rigidity
Born and bred in its misery
All contemptuous purity,
Misleads serene duplicity
In all admissible virility,
Sacrosanct and all unviable,
This disposition unreliable,
Outlooks not so reliable,
Ridiculous and undeniable
This solitary moment,
Not in itself so all that potent,
Releasing all these fetid rodents,
Systemic linear motion
Curtailing our devotion
To freeing all emotion
Held true by we, the free.
We fall to power, victims
To this inhuman system,
All zealous to its deception,
Information, insurrection,
Categorized by failures at hand,
Unaware of the faults of man.
Sep 2016 · 290
Buried In The Hill.
In one solitary meaning,
Ever sinking, ever feeling,
Never fleeting in its seeming
To be deceiving ages old,
I watched it pass like clockwork
Crafting, remaining in its bulwark,
A bunker, sunken in its crafstwork,
As it lingered in the cold,
It yet, gracefully omnipresent,
Basked, entombed in its resentment,
Encased, steadfast in its amendment,
Its self-revel to be so bold,
A reminder of omniscience,
Displaced, now self sufficient,
The rock face here tells a mission,
Of a winter’s life it stole,
The chiseled, engraved markings,
Might to some be most alarming,
Yet the feature so disarming
Seems unfamiliar so close to home.
In its forgotten confinement
Does it seek a realignment,
Awaiting the assignment
The order to again roam.
In sedition and high-treason,
Must there once have been a reason,
That so frigid as this season,
Be repeated and retold.
At a loss for all neutrality
It forged a new reality
Sacrificing our morality,
And justifying why we’re sold.
Bounding forth toward recognition,
Strangling, crippling indecision,
The utmost folly as of yet unyielding,
The exaggeration what with any feeling,
Derisive in itself made one,
Come and gone, done, undone,
We search for that which we’re not worth knowing,
We understand less, and even more showing
Is that our arrogance somehow justifies class,
It just but seemingly turns so crass,
An outright parody of what we were meant to be,
Our aims were lustful gain and greed,
There was at one point meaning here,
But through all we have persevered,
We twisted the morals and lessons to be had,
Emerged a joke, and tanked the land,
Bred it and ourselves to be this way,
And wait for a leader to swift us away,
We act without knowledge and ignore the outcome,
Malignant negligence stemming from
Our inability to understand
That there is no salvation because of Man.
Sep 2016 · 224
I know not the cost.
The price of your sacrifice,
Your murdering your own pride.
The pride you may
Have had for me at one point.
I have never seen it,
Never heard it whisper,
Except when it felt forced
To save some sort of my “feeling”
Never felt it tickle the back
Of my inexperienced neck,
Yet I’ve always yearned for it.
This emotion, like all, I neither
Understand, nor possess,
But I still wish to know its sensation.
I wish to know what I see in others.
To not fail in your specific eyes.
I wish neither to be harsh
Nor accusatory,
I mean that.
You’ve never demanded perfection,
You abhor such an idea,
And, granted, there are things
I have done for which I should be regretful,
But again, I am unable
To understand the very idea.
Ironically, you’ve said I
Talk too much,
Am too full of emotion,
And this such paradox,
I’ve always kept secret.
Sometimes I wish to
Know you better,
To understand more,
To learn your way of thought,
A strain, an algorithm I so respect.
However, it exists somewhere,
Deep inside an earnest feeling,
On subject of your better well-being,
I sometimes wish
You didn't have to know me at all.
The sun did Icarus no favors
His fateful day of flight,
Inanimate or not,
Certain bodies enjoy our plight.
Once again, lost in
False perpetuation of “hope,”
Idyllic fantasies
That such a notion exists,
This symbiotic altruism,
Supposedly reciprocal
In its false entirety,
Is one major devastation
Among many in our evolution.
Giving “freely” in “good will towards man,”
Thinking to ourselves we’ll be rewarded then,
One hand offered while the other is expecting,
Trudging through miserable life without correcting
This anticommunal sentiment
Progressive aggression, breeding resent,
We stumble through life filled with **** but “good”
Swallowing lies we create, falsehood,
The never-existing pure encounters,
Justify our ****** parameters,
“Do for me, I’ll do for you”
In fear, in hate, we come unglued,
Lay blade to table and swear your life,
You’ll never surmount, be above this strife,
Inexorably determined,
Our society lives upon scraps
And ideals old men have thrown
From a tyrannical table
Made of outdated theorems
And objectified values,
Deemed “enough” for us,
And we settle in our filth
As we praise them for their charity,
Wet with anticipation,
We just wait to be privileged enough
To be in their good favor,
To provide their main course.
Our poor blind children,
Knowing nothing of their enslavement.
Lick the hand, all is well,
Die for your master, live in hell,
Survive this canvas,
Post a status.
Die for nothing.
Universally irrelevant,
Galactically meaningless,
Walk the foggy path toward
The void, culminating in
The apex of your misguided meandering,
Blinded all your life
By all variables denying your right,
Your natural freedom,
You waste of humanity.
Sep 2016 · 369
Illusion Of Dream.
Out across an open sky,
There a chasm could be spied,
Its truths and meaning it belied,
A beautiful place for me to die.
I went abreast my own spirit,
Deep down the gorge, a fire lit,
It warmed me in the darkened pit,
It there calmed my hellish fit,
It seems to now have come and pass,
The world I knew has turned to glass,
Fracturing now, violent and fast,
And in this crevice I must now last.
Appearing also not like before,
As if kept secret in some moldy lore,
That where we were in years of yore,
We lost all hope, what we’re meant for.
No rain has reached me, no condensation,
No emotion either, no commiseration,
I can’t see further, down on obliteration,
I freely remain in abnegation.
I would still not hear compliment,
I still am unable in sentiment,
Thus far, existing in my resent,
I have reached paradise, regret, repent.
Objectivity in vile domain,
I must again from life refrain,
Where one does dare themselves ordain,
In loneliness, we seek only pain.
Seeing clearly to some extent,
I leave this world in hateful neglect,
I wouldn’t have chosen to be subject
To a world where we fail and deem it correct.
I am not unlike any other,
An abject son, a broken brother,
I can’t exist with “one another,”
I lay waste to land, destroy “each other,”
Lackluster faith and false idolization,
Leave what’s at stake to mass predation,
Content in squalor and mental *******,
Leading to loss of all sensation.
The darkness of this pit is calming,
I find the peace ever so charming,
It acts as shelter, exists as Eden,
This garden of gloom, miserable freedom.
Sep 2016 · 375
Another Lie Upon Your Lips.
Another lie upon your lips,
I tasted it with our last kiss,
It seemed so vague,
Now much more clear,
That you, nor I, should now be here,
You find comfort in my hemorrhaging
I can’t help but smile you pretty thing,
So ugly behind that beautiful face,
Contempt finds me upon disgrace,
I twist the knife myself, what’s worse,
I welcome it, for what it’s worth,
I can’t help but notice that you twitch
Whenever you can pull a stitch,
A piece of me that leaves you vexed,
I’ve no empathy, not so complex,
And yet you pick at the infection
So vehement in your doomed defection,
Just to see if I there halt,
Awaiting some cryptic result,
Some declaration of my love lost,
Some tears perhaps, a rose to toss,
But if I were capable of salting this earth,
I would’ve done with you dispersed,
Spread you throughout this lying land,
You’d be at home, just as you planned,
In my chest there resides hate,
Like Azathoth lying in wait,
It must be lulled, kept sedate,
Until, as now, it stirs awake,
For you it bites at bit to take,
It is that which God can not unmake,
No conundrum or mistake,
I will take that which you can not replace,
And if it came to that last kiss,
If even there was no consequence
I still would see you drown in ****
Than taste that lie upon your lips
Sep 2016 · 180
Piece by piece, shard by shard,
Nothing calms my mind thus far,
Intertwisting writs with weight
Do, indeed, rot my thoughts’ sake,
Whereof is this place you seek,
The telltale heaven of which you speak,
Your useless dream, I’m curious,
Let’s not pretend, it’s pretentious,
All the weight of things come gone,
Remaining leagues lost, fathoms undone,
You’ll whither here like everything else,
Your mind, a lie, life never caressed,
Feel free to lose yourself in fantasy,
And pretend it’s not all make-believe,
You’re splintered, fractured,
Broken and shattered,
You’re lost in delusions,
Then again, so are we all,
But I know nothing changes
When we finally fall.
Sep 2016 · 179
Winds Of Ash.
The wind was but a fleeting rustle,
Tampering with her straightened dress,
She stood in peace atop a hillock
And let go of all she had repressed,
I watched as the breeze found her face,
So soft and pale, so calm and fair,
It lovingly turned her cheeks to ash,
The rest went piece by piece in air,
Like the residual cackling
Of a yet burned log
In a fireplace glowing
To ward the fog,
Her mind found freedom
While I witnessed loss,
Where she found completion,
My eyes did gloss,
I wept like a child in mourning
O'er some sweet dreams and wake,
Yet the idea seemed so alluring
That I wished the wind me take.
So as I walked up the hillside,
And saw her dress on the ground,
I wished for that same feeling,
To be ever one with the shroud,
I took myself to calling,
Quietly in hopes to hear,
A response in turn to me,
So that I may this world clear.
I stood alone for so long,
I had forgotten why I remained,
But a smile found me before too long,
And on the wind, with her, I remain.
Sep 2016 · 225
On Wandering.
It’s not so much dark,
As it is just hard to see;
I am losing connection
To this reality.
Friendships made,
Mostly severed,
I cannot see reason
In pursuing most endeavors,
It is hard to tell most times
If I am awake or lie still in dream,
And even harder still I think,
To decide where I wish to be.
Behind every great concern, I’m told,
That there is hope beyond the fog,
And yet, and yet,
These troubles do my mind yet bog,
I cannot succumb to emotion,
I wouldn’t even if I still possessed it,
Seeing no logical reason,
But still feeling love is quite perplexing,
I sit outside and consider the stars,
As most men do, pondering existence,
Mindless in my own self doubt,
But weariness is here so useless.
I think of a changed world,
If the parameters were different,
I wonder in contempt,
Whether that would make a difference.
I’ve been told the path behind me
Is just to remind what lead me here,
Yet this solitary indictment
Has brought about present future fears,
“What if” is of the utmost melancholy,
It’s presence an insult in itself,
I’ve seen the most of macabre,
Yet beautiful life is personal hell.
Feeling alone in a world of eight billion,
Is a selfish and irrational thing,
Though no one cares to explain
Why that should mean anything.
Of course my specific life,
By rule must be better than others,
Like mine is less to those above me,
Point is, we’re one another.
Tempting thoughts of running away,
A simple comforting cowardice,
Lay the foundation of an example
And I have taken to hate this.
Why must regret exist,
If it’s so useless an ideal,
Why must I dwell on choices made,
And the nothing that I feel.
I know I am supposed to feel something,
But it never seems to be there,
It’s even worse than dead inside,
I plainly just don’t care.
I wish I had an answer for myself,
And several more if possible,
And if I can’t unmake a decision,
Some future life will be impossible
I grieve for my own mind,
More of it dies each passing day,
And I’ve no thought left for a heart,
That has with time rotten away.
I believe I’m lost,
I know I’m lost.
I walk through answers every day,
Yet the more and more I think,
The more I realize
I don’t know the correct questions.
I likely never will.
Hope is the logical fallacy
Found inside a failed mind,
A fragment of shrapnel
Lodged in the part in my brain,
That would otherwise show me,
Make me believe,
Make me see,
How to be free of it,
Be free of you,
Be free of this,
Be free of this “lost”.
Sep 2016 · 532
We're Lost.
Application of misinformation
Falsify a failed nation,
Eradication of all creation
Of representation
Deny the station
Granted by occupation
And the inhalation
Of justification
No prerequisite information
Just accumulation
No moderation,
Their determination
Through stimulation
Cultural *******
Communal degradation
Societal desecration,
Dehumanizing revocation,
Worldly humiliation,
Mortal sterilization
Never achieving mobilization
Lack of communication
Excelling in vile persuasion,
Proponents of procreation
Birthing digitization,
Destroy civilization,
Indications of adoration
Isolation in delineation,
Irrational indexation,
Fluctuating indignation,
No innovation,
False ovation,
Lacking limitations,
Contextual intonation,
Divine fabrication,
Private publication,
Evolving fornication,
Give me extermination,
Notwithstanding annexation
Of dismaying oxidation,
Of valued perpetuation,
Global mass-castration,
Redundant rhetoric, dictation,
A donation, a dilation, a fixation,
An annotation of fibrillation,
We are personification
Of Contamination
Through globalization
Praising idolization
And finalization
Through *******,
No pragmatic exoneration,
In all frustration
We see not utilization
Nor stabilization,
Fearful implications
Of wayward stations,
Surplus mutilations,
Seeking militarization
Of worthless nations,
No conservation,
Just excavation
Of the population
******* on education,
Spitting on graduation,
No validation of aspiration,
Indoctrination of baptization
Mitigating litigation,
murdering habitation,
Quelling all vegetation
We will end in radiation
Through faulty navigation,
Abdication and abnegation,
All worldly agitation
Leads us to expiration,
Self-made annihilation.
There was never an end in sight,
We’re lost, and hope is a lie.
Sep 2016 · 216
A Paradox And A Lie.
December, a vision,
A most wise decision,
I believe a derision
Left us all alone,
Nothing between us,
No one could have seen us,
This event completes us
And leads us along,
My mind was so clouded
And as we were shrouded,
The rest left confounded
And sent to atone,
To seek willing penance,
To break their dependence
To find our ascendance
An encompassing throne,
I seek, we yet make it,
Deciding to break it,
Knowing not what’s at stake yet,
We sought a true home.
But finding revulsion
Furthered compulsion
Our hearts’ errosion
A broken gramaphone.
No memory corrected,
No statue erected
We became infected
With our words in tone,
I looked o'er shoulder,
No longer could hold her,
Or either composure,
Left a haunting moan.
Seeing not corrected,
My soul now indebted,
Forever inspected,
Silencing a groan,
I walked as if courted,
My love, I aborted,
To see you contorted,
My dear, so distorted,
I find self remorseless
Morbid, forsworn it,
Disgusting discourses,
All else but abhor it,
It seems so alluring,
Though mildly incurring,
All but securing
A life worth enduring,
I’d say it was the last thing that I said in this world,
But that’s just a paradox, and a lie beyond that.
Sep 2016 · 236
I once saw the sun burst into tears,
Knowing that you left the night,
You came about and all my fears
Were cast out by your light so bright,
I can sometimes think of when I was
Supposed to know the path ahead
Yet each time I watched you step
Along the shores of seas so red,
I wondered to myself inside
Could she grasp, reach in to me
I wondered if you knew I lied,
And saw right to the depths of me,
I couldn’t take but every whisper
Spoken softly, sweeping sweetly,
It took all I could to fester
Suffering, sad, still swells completely.
The quiet calm of mercy killing,
Save me from my darkest self,
I do not deserve, nor do I belong,
A cry, a plea, a call for help,
A faint but fleeting fluttering feeling,
Leads me to believe I’m wrong,
A precious hand shows, all revealing,
Lead me astray, away from the throng,
A cold, calculated discontent
Is but plaything for lament,
Falling faster to descent,
The whole way down, do I resent,
Dreadful illusion of ascent
Hypocrisy to some extent,
Plummeting further, hate ferments
My anger does logic augment,
Lying again, my way content,
Life grows hard to circumvent,
Theory slows, stagnant, latent
All forms of love I must forget,
For all my sin must come repent,
It grows harder to pretend,
All “beautiful” life must, please, end.
Sep 2016 · 282
Creating dysfunctional remembrance
Hitherto unknown, marking ascendance,
Jeopardize a lifelong lust,
Miscellaneous, all but dust,
The thoughts envisioned in my marrow,
I see you walking in dreams so shallow,
I speak to you in low frequency words,
Unsurprisingly, I am unheard,
Not your fault, no twisted contention,
I just but wish a self reinvention,
Remaining the same, self pride became,
footholds of faults, my held horses lame,
ambisinister doubts of recompense
Broken grout, life’s lost pretense,
No meaning present or ever held,
The roses of bloodletting never smelled,
The darkest dreary dreadful days
Lay waste, with which I wilt away,
Cryptic omnipresence arisen in me,
Please help me find shores of Galilee,
As abysmal as I love to remain,
I do admire occasional refrain,
Red lips upon mine, a cold, dead kiss,
Please I beg, just spare me this,
Necrotic appendages, body failing me,
Last whispers are sand grinding seas,
No depth, no fathom, nothing at all,
A muse’s voice begins to call,
What must I suffer willingly
To see what I see as it should be,
What extent of path be trod,
Before I may lay down to rot,
Wherefore are all aphorisms,
All but gone, save cynicism,
I poke and **** til festers bleed,
I blind my eyes til I can’t see,
What ******* mess have I made of me,
What height must I plummet before I’m free?
Aug 2016 · 223
Insignificant Dust.
In your attempt to understand life,
Misleading yourself, pushing to fight,
Your unguided system fails and falters,
You consistently pass the blame to others,
And in our sentience and own free will,
We chastise beliefs of others still,
I implore you to be mindful, perhaps,
For real intelligence seems too much to ask,
How can you believe that you are owed,
What in this life has shown you so?
How can you believe your existence has worth
Yet still acknowledge the cosmos’ lurch?
What trait of yours has been engrained
To allow you to think you’re anything?
How small minded must we all be
To disregard something we all can see?
We are a
Sorrow filled
Sack of
Worthless Dust,
Flying through time,
Believing we must
Find the existential,
Break new ground,
Your hollow ideals fail you
As death’s bell sounds,
You are a measly grain of sand,
Soaring on a spec of dirt,
Through a playground.
Your problems don’t matter,
Your emotions will have no effect.
You’re dying, cancer of the earth.
Your useless, meandering thoughts,
Fickle, fodder for space and time,
Only temporarily facilitated by
The meat suit you currently occupy.
You will die,
Your memories will fade quickly,
Your name forgotten,
Correctly bludgeoned and blotted out
By the fact that you don’t really matter.
You and I will rot like everything else.
Aug 2016 · 258
I thought I heard a whisper
While sitting under that old tree,
I figured the voices in my head
Weren’t yet crying audibly,
Head tilted, I strained to hear
What could have brought me tension,
It’s empty for miles around, I thought,
No use to cause my dreams suspension,
And then as if it heard my fingers
Crunch tightly in a panicked fist,
I could still lie, but the question lingers,
Did I just speak with Hopelessness?
Redirection of internal infrastructure
Map prerequisites, destroy my composure,
Indulge me in lost ideas,
Forbidden in thought, in rhyme, in written reason,
Defy all logic, misanthropic,
Allow me this, my casket’s treason,
Anorexic, dire complexion,
Filters lost longing indiscretion,
Deep in memory, cranial protrusions,
Observed are scars with mass confusion,
Scribed as such, “we die alone here”
Naught but failing a life deserved here,
Articulate hemorrhaging of twisted tongues and feelings,
Allegory to bitter, pitiless healings,
Melancholic, leprositic
Between smoke-stained lungs
And liver scloritic,
Match a crusted, bloodstained outlook,
Upon a false-hoped, baited gut-hook,
With which carried out in gruesome fashion,
Can be borne by one in moral crashing
Ambiguous doubt of what comes next
Refocused and aimed at what is vexed,
At all, by one, failing to connect,
Sporadic in sense, theory ferments,
Stormy funeral, in full dawned dress,
A full circle marking total Hopelessness.
Aug 2016 · 169
Trapped, cascaded down upon
That which does there lie along,
I saw the creatures that torture within,
At night they creep in mind, in sin.
My tongue is limited by lack of words,
My head is full of monstrous lore,
A battle inside, the clash of swords,
My body riddled to all but gore,
They haunt my dreams and awakened hours still,
My darkest nights they do yet fill,
Sluggish tongues with eyes cut out,
They yet speak and see to me thereout,
Throats cut deep to their weakened spines,
Windpipes whistling through words entwined,
Trauma to triage, wounded lay
Score by score screaming for day.
No hope.
No peace.
Til life does cease.
Aug 2016 · 173
The Bog.
And as the last thickets of trees die off,
The pass opens to reveal a fetid bog,
The layers of sediment building up,
Should you walk, you’ll sink, forever stuck.
It looks as if a storm just passed,
The fog and drizzle will now last,
The dark pines and oaks seem so far away now,
They cast a knowing presence upon this cradle,
This open tomb so endlessly hungers,
The mist, a blanket, completely covers,
It would seem a normal swamp
But in its depths lies only rot.
No path trodden or trail here lay
No somber road to lead the way,
Just all things broken to walk astray,
The nights are darkness, the days are gray.
Each sticky, dismal, and frigid eve,
Can one hear the faintest tease,
The promise of someone on the breeze,
Someone left bleeding, to grieve,
Open, bloodshot eyes do stare,
Upon a sooty, blackened mare
Plague’s mount here now does feed on air,
Upon your weakened body shared
By the pain and suffering spent
Across a lifetime of regret
Of each an every prayer sent,
Of all the silence returned with lament,
The putrid ground reeks cold and stale,
Between the thunder and mighty gales,
All sentiment gone, your bones are frail,
Each memory forgotten, tortured, failed,
Each acrid breath you come to take
Just seems to be another mistake,
As if happiness is fake,
Think of every step to make,
Of wanting to rest your tired eyes,
Of your longing protests, your weary cries,
Your voice fails you, mouth so dry,
You cannot even begin to cry,
Stretching on for countless miles,
The surrounding stench so vain and vile,
Is has of yet to offer guile,
If only you could rest a while,
Here creatures lurk with fang-ed teeth
They seek upon you to bend and creep,
Escape, escape, impossible feat,
Admirable, stupid, succumb to defeat,
Trudging on, “woe is me”
An army of one wishing victory,
I’ll allow you hope to find solace in the trees,
But I promise, you will never be free
Aug 2016 · 186
My retinas severed one weary, darkened night,
I could no longer stand in my own fright,
My cuticles lost to some melancholy lore
Flipping through pages I used to adore,
The blanching of the atoms, each and every cell within,
I could not hope to pursue what lies therein,
Some weakened, hollow shell of the man I used to be,
I would keep looking for you,
But, alas, I cannot see.
I once thought that my mind would eat itself,
Every forlorn synapse, fighting amongst themselves,
When the doubt came clouded, and my head gave in to rot,
The rain became too crowded, each drop is what I sought,
The creation of this December, so cold and without morn,
Gave birth to iced embers somewhere inside to scorn,
I personified malice and yet still my hatred grew,
All but one living thing I wanted to undo,
I wanted you to see me at my most evil worst,
I wanted you to breathe my name as curse,
But now that I have seceded to the inner most retainer,
I see how worthless the person is your body keeps contained here,
Your **** heart locks love like loose lace,
Spilled wind chills fill your killed embrace,
The frail, pale gales pierce your assailed bones,
As your ****-shining ship sinks, think of home.
Viciously consuming mass-manufactured fear,
You’re just the result of a
Hereditary convulsion of a repugnant species,
A meaningless squirt of protein,
A haphazard ****** felt only by one,
Carried to this world by a loving mother,
One you never call or care for,
You live in fear and hype of a plague,
That only exists in minds depraved,
You’re so afraid to die, you forget to live,
You think you mean the world, but you’re just placid,
You fumble about your Facebook and tweets,
Spreading the same foolishness,
The same disease,
And wonder why no one takes this generation seriously,
You drown the rest of us
In your depths of stupidity,
Your opinions are null
And void of meaning,
You’re worthless in the end,
A repeating machine,
Legalize your luxuries
While you spit propaganda,
Too ignorant to realize
It’s not even your agenda,
Too far-gone to understand your mistake,
You should never burden us and procreate,
Your false idols and extinct gods
Can never help you climb up from ****,
The pile of manure leaking from your mouth,
Never a syllable or an utterance profound,
You “struggle” with demons literally everyone else has,
And claim you’re special, ahead of the class,
You think your lies are based in fact,
How can the internet not be exact?
Caring for problems you can’t possibly solve,
And thinking your pedestal will resolve,
Any problem that may to you come,
Your brain has rotted, your soul undone,
To be fair, I understand it’s not in your interest,
To care about anything shy of your witless
Bounds for glory, or website fame,
I hope you think it’s all a game,
Because if you do,
I suppose there’s some excuse,
To where you think you get off
Having your endless privileges abused.
Hashtag your ******* selfie of every day,
Network your ******* pics away,
I’m guilty too and my mind does sway,
But Christ, aren’t we living for all to pay?
No one owes you a ******* thing,
Yet you walk around as if you own everything,
Head in the sand, salt in the wound,
One nation under ignorance is now imbued.
Aug 2016 · 222
Son Of Perdition.
And nothing makes sense to me anymore,
It all used to seem connected,
Seemingly random occurrences
With an underlying conspiracy.
Yet as I walk about, playing the hand I’m dealt,
It all seems fake.
And I just want to die,
For if all’s true, there’s paradise.
I’m weak, no convictions,
A stuck pariah, son of perdition,
I’ve an evil mind because of what replaced my calloused heart.
Indifference and rage are two of two
Emotions existing here yet through,
I grow tired of these faces,
Weary with apprehension,
Out of my graces,
And hateful of attention.
Exterminate, annihilate, eradicate me,
Leave me out of this creation,
My pity is a dry well,
No sympathy for a societal castration.
I observed the worst in all of us,
Especially in my self,
How can you focus on happiness,
When your own wickedness swells?
**** sadness, I’m hateful,
I prove it with distasteful
Demonstrations of reflected ugliness,
Angry at the world, I have your heart in my fist.
I’m dead to you?
I’m ******* dead to myself,
Burn the corpse and raise up hell,
I’ll make a martyr out of you.
Aug 2016 · 137
A Known Unknown.
If ever there was such a night as tonight,
I wish it to be reflected in starlight,
It’s dark and breezy out this eve, my dear,
And the world’s all quiet, nothing to fear.
It’s odd to think of how often I lay
Upon my bed reflecting the day,
And once your name and face come to mind,
I get lost in daydreams for quite some time,
Sometimes when I hear you voice,
Something inside just shouts rejoice,
I’m not sure what this means,
But I like it.
Further still, as I come to know
You more, it’s hard to stay in tow,
I find myself smiling with every laugh,
Your voice as calming as a palace bath,
My eyes amazed by every photograph,
I hope each word is not the last,
I’m not sure what this means,
But I like it.
As I sit and wonder if I’m heading right,
I feel ok without much might,
Because I sort of believe in time,
An idea, more or less, will grow the vine,
I think of all the things so fine,
I would love to be able to see your mind.
I’m not sure what this means,
But I do like it.
Aug 2016 · 229
I, Colossus.
I can feel a bull in my chinashop body,
Raging as a rhino internally
I feel as some scapegoat prism
Has replaced my hollow chest cavity.
Everything inside me is broken
I Can
Not See
The Light
Trapped in ironic paradox,
I still refuse to believe in life.
I pray, Death to come claim me,
Death release me, from this pathetic retrospect,
I hear whispers beyond the void,
Every mem'ry haunts me as I close my eyes,
At night I dream of content,
But such notions are best weighed in false gods and ****,
My withered heart, but a muscle,
Pumping rot, attached to my sleeve,
All I am is a vessel
Committed to insanity,
Speechless speaks less than you might imagine,
Gathered unified, in greed,
Laconic diatribe in visceral times,
I am your ******* disease.
I’m tortured at night
When I use logic to identify love
Frustrated annihilation composes my composure
I clench my teeth and ******* blood,
Aug 2016 · 214
Death Doesn't Exist.
Death doesn’t exist,
And I refuse to believe in life.
This world consists
Of incapacitating time.
We are all starving signatures
Of an experiemental joke,
And everything we create
Just makes me ******* choke.
All that exists subsists of rot,
A wasted penance, long forgot,
I lay the framework
The words became murk
While the public sits
And bathes in ****,
I don’t want any part of it.
Release me. I don’t belong here,
I’ll eradicate anything in my way here,
Subliminally inserted masquerades
Confuse the minds of the weak,
sitting without thought in this charade,
Confounding the blinded to weep.
I’m only suicidal in the mornings,
But the evenings bring contempt,
The hatred spawns new beginnings,
The death brings our lament,
Death doesn’t exist,
And I’ll never believe in life.
Aug 2016 · 242
Hollow Heart.
The black granite and marble
Was carved to represent a statue,
Preserving the image my mind created
Inside my hollow heart.
If I could, I’d say things are well,
But like that of the hummingbird
Stuck in my garage,
The feeling of hopelessness and
Eventual depravity,
Will have me dead and petrified,
Not realizing the windows were open the whole time,
My words are but a nuisance
The beating of an insect’s wings.
The hollow walls won’t hold to this ram,
I can’t read your thoughts
But I wish I could glimpse your mind.
It’s funny to think it’s been so long,
I’ve not ever quite felt this peculiar and pleasant way,
I see things in you I’ve never seen before,
Show a caveman a television,
Show me your heart,
The analogy is sound.
Aug 2016 · 171
Night Terrors
Sometimes I wake in bed
Wondering where the **** I am,
Kissing whispered thoughts
Lingering like every word I’ve said.
Each promise kept has had the weight
Of a thousand words like molten lead,
And every summer’s death reflects
Each tear I’ve shed.
A killing season of countless doubts
A sordid, remorseless discourage of clout,
I cannot trust myself again,
I have the same mind as all God’s men,
And in this peace I pray for war,
Something to occupy my altered course,
For boredom is the devil’s playground,
I strive for something, a touch more profound,
In solace I find agony, in agony content,
I wish that I had just one regret,
But in that moment where your own bed feels strange,
I find myself in my mind contained,
What brought me to think I’d been stolen away,
And further, why is it no longer the same day?
What happened to me in my forgotten dreams,
That caused disturbance from my sleep?
Where was I taken, what could I have been shown,
To make this haunted place feel so far from home?
Aug 2016 · 145
She Is The Labyrinth.
I’d give anything to see inside your heart,
I wish I knew if I was who you’re thinking of,
I’ve never cared like this before,
Your mind and body I do adore,
But if this were to be something true,
All I want right now is you.
Sleeping has long since haunted my thoughts,
For the dreams have scarcely given in wrought,
I seek you out as I wake,
My dear, this maze I cannot make,
I hope that I can open your heart,
I promise never to bring you apart,
I wish for some kind of hint to show
Me how you feel, if your feelings grow,
I want to write a song for you
With your heartrythm as my glue,
I fight through turns and palisades,
I know this maze will be my grave,
And yet I pursue and find the way,
To the Minotaur, your chest emblazed,
I long to hear your voice in sway
At night in my arms to say my name,
I’m yours already, you’ve no idea,
I can’t even determine if I’m still ******* real.
Aug 2016 · 204
A vast a glorious temple
At its center, a black altar lay,
A ghastly visage,
Nightmare of brighter souls’ dismay,
Say your last and come to me,
I will give your life meaning.
So lost were you, that in the end,
Your body I found for its flesh to rend.
The Gods have everlasting hunger,
Appeasement must be ingratiated,
They tremble the earth, bloodthirsty,
The Cathedral must be saturated.
I vow to stain this ebony room crimson,
If even it takes me all night long,
The Elders speak in muffled whispers,
I swear I will tear through the throng.
The Rite, The Sacrifice upon us,
I’ve found the perfect one,
A filthy nightwalker unites us,
Our own ***** Of Babylon.
Clenching both hands about the hilt,
My ritualistic blade awakens,
So wary I am of the evil dagger,
That I hope it is not mistaken,
Down and out, I must cut sternum and sinew apart,
Through the ribs, out the spout, I must acquire her putrid heart,
Her eyes dug out, cornea like cones,
I could stay upon her forever, sleeping to sounds of breaking bones,
I will leave her eagled and free
Until she cannot seem to bleed,
I will lead the sacrosanct
Lobotomy of her sacrifice
There no hope, no other recant,
But to hope you make it to Paradise.
Until every hole on her body swells,
I will conduct for my Gods this Hell.
Aug 2016 · 154
Hard To Say.
The night ‘fore last seems like an age ago,
It’s hard to speak, yet harder to know,
How can I say what hurts so much,
To know it was a mistake as such,
I would tell you that I wished it didn’t happen,
But I’d be a liar.
Folded in your arms, I felt I’d seen God,
And only two nights ago I was lost…
Show me how to feel, so I can run,
The pain will stay until it’s done.
I’d say that I don’t love you,
My ******* heart is on fire.
Show me what to do
To search the earth for you,
I’ll ask what became of me
After you let me free.
I’ll hope my venom didn’t hurt you as much
As it latched on to me as a crutch,
And I’ll hope to listen to you breathe,
While you’re asleep, deep in dreams,
Your head in my shoulder, my face in your hair,
If life was to end then, I would not care.
Jul 2014 · 418
A Reflection.
In a myriad of countless faults, I hide under vague words and a morbid recourse of sordid worded prose. I rarely am understood in the writing, which I normally expect (not in self pity, mind you) because that specific outlet is the only way I know to unleash what I feel and at the same time, understand more of myself. It isn’t necessarily for anyone else. I am a coward, burying my confusing thoughtstreams and heartrhythms in to a metaphorical and vague tomb, masoned and built with rot-brick and acidic ichor as caulk.
  Let’s be clear; I am not a perfect person. On an average day, I don’t particularly think of myself as even a good person. Sashays of brevity and a courtly manner may indicate a misunderstood and polite soul, and to an extent, I grant that this is true in the sense that I never wish to push my inner self on anyone. However, beyond and inside the carefully crafted facade of courteousness and the feigned smile, I am an abysmal vat. I am a cavity consisting merely of rage, indifference, and unwholesomeness. This is not an admirable trait, something I have never been or will be proud of, and is said as informative as possible rather than in an attempt to intimidate or distill fear, so you may have an understanding of how I feel the things I do as the topics are discussed here throughout.
  I feel it necessary to begin and end with love. More the idea of it, really. The idea of love is beautiful and enticing, but if I have ever felt it before, I know the pain of losing it far outweighs the joys within it. I want and most wish to be the “writer”, the “poet” even, to describe what I feel for love and yet, it slips through my fingers like water through mesh; Slow enough that I can see it, feel it, know it’s there, but fleeting and never remaining.I yearn for it badly in various forms, because like any other imperfect being, I crave it. The feeling of being loved is one thing, a momentous and great thing, but the knowledge that you love something honestly and purely out of your own volition is a feeling I desperately want to be akin with. I long to be able to put the words together (and trust me, I know a fair amount of words) to describe what I feel about this sensation, of how much I want this sensation, but each time, I fail and fall on the grounds of repetitive and likely plagiarized folly. In an attempt to share the wanton feeling of acceptance in the arms of another human being, I succeed in only deprecating myself and pushing further away in to my own self-hating chasm as I realize that I have again, fallen a bit short of the message I had tried to convey.
  With all my might and will combined, I will sit for hours and think of a new way to describe the beauty of one’s eyes, or the curve of a jaw, even the floating melody of the voice, but what I describe has been penned before and better from their hands than mine. I discuss the unwilling, devout feeling of being alone, romanticized and dressed up for the show, to entertain in some form, yet in the end, all I can say to myself in this modern world after the verses are written is “I guess I’m pretty lonely.” It is some form of irony in itself, I feel, that so many of the greatest people I know can elaborate on loneliness in better terms than I, while being completely happy with the person they love. I must also grant that there is a flutter of bitterness in me from that, as I slightly envy that ability and situation.
      The women have come and gone, many mutual agreements, some unfortunate endings, but as I exist today, I find myself wanting more than this. I want not to have someone give themself to me exactly, but to give someone a piece of myself. Perhaps they can show me what it means to feel something other than what’s inside right now. I am understanding of the the fact that at this point, this may seem like whiny tripe, but I admit that it feels as if a bit of weight has lifted in being able to finally put in to words a feeling that causes more than moderate struggle in my head. I have never been afraid to die, or had a fear of regretting “not living”, I’m actually quite curious about death, but I’ve recently found within myself that I would honestly and contently prefer to not end life on the word, “alone.”
Jul 2014 · 399
Nothing Exists.
Nothing is real,
There was never anything.
There will forever be nothing.
In some way, we’re all stereotypes,
We resist the realization that others are not proven,
In that we scheme and worship self-progression…
In any case,
We are not seen by others; we
Observe the projected actions
Reflecting inward, without time,
And we differentiate accordingly.
On a personal level,
I’ve only admitted this to myself (obviously)
For the hallucinations of others can’t be trusted.
This life, for all, is nothing,
It’s but a boring broken shoelace,
Bereft of any meaning except inconvenience.
And sure, we would like to think emotions are “real”, but we kid
Ourselves on much bigger things
All. The. Time.
It is much easier to believe a big lie
When everything we know before it
Were smaller falsehoods peppered with what
We want to believe is “truth”.
Your minds are worthless,
Coagulating each line of words
Regardless of reason,
To what is referred to as
I am the enzyme, the prototype,
That allows me to bleed.
That shows me that nothing really exists.
Food for thought,
If it did,
It wouldn’t even matter.
You’re nothing.
We’re nothing.
I am nothing.
Because at the end of the day,
Nothing needed you.
What you perceive as humanity might
Saint you, hate you, **** you, love you,
But you will be forgotten in time,
Needed and wanted by no one.
You accept nothing.
You were never needed, nor
Do you really need.
Everything is in your mind,
And your mind, the hive mind,
OUR minds,
Are nothing.
Jul 2014 · 644
In A Sense.
In a sense, I still love you, counting nights begone like storms
Innocence, I find wanting, it seems I wish for the worms.
When I have starved myself of you,
When I’ve regurgitated with every wretch,
I promise I’ll never speak your name again,
I swear I’ll let it die like a lame Spartan child.
I’ve become without feeling,
Callous an bereft of everything.
You wouldn’t recognize me anymore,
For I will Never be what you knew.
Your world has come crashing down,
The sheep misguided, the flock astray,
The ice chiseled without a sound,
From your heart that is dismay.
You came to me without love,
I've broken your wings, little dove.
You asked me to fix you,
Broken, I attempted to fix myself,
I created a most wretched worldview,
Listening to you scream for help.
You came to me without laughter,
And I will make you suffer.
Engaging in whispers and deluded heresy,
You, behind my back, defied me,
I watched your passing most timely,
What became of you was revolting.
Alone I stood in what contained,
The abyss inside shall forever remain.
Keys to life held within stars,
A daunting vision of fabled death,
I'll destroy this sky of ours,
And become a haunting, ghastly figurehead.
All things for you held promise,
Until I butchered your vague innocence.
I know when your tongue lies,
It's all too familiar, my love,
I'll tie it 'round your eyes
And gaze upon it from above.
I once had love for you,
Despite what you put me through.
The creature inside me has awakened,
Although it never really could sleep,
You my dear, don't be mistaken,
Are the focus of it's greed.
I am what you cannot ****,
Oh, how I haunt you still.
Jun 2014 · 486
I am the personification of man's anguish.
I am starving, yet every morsel clogs my throat,
I am so thirsty, but my mouth is a cotton moat,
I am alone, depressed,
Morose, repressed,
Everything I ever loved has died,
I'm not even human anymore.
Jun 2014 · 486
I Killed Her.
I notched the axe handle that struck her pretty head
Against thatwhich, she should have run instead,
I gagged her so the terrifying screams stifled in silent lament,
I ripped open and off the clothes that were her only guardian to me,
I bludgeoned as I entered her unconscious body,
The gurgling sound emitted were of the utmost melancholy,
The seminal fluid like plague streaming her discontent,
Fruition all knowing showed her true violence,
Compacted in a bag, I cut her into forty pieces,
I was careful with her cut-off skin to leave none creased,
I adorn my bed like Ares in myths of old,
I played and toyed until her body ran cold,
I slashed my way inside until her sordid cries did subside, terrified
Her lifeless eyes only held despise.
Jun 2014 · 546
It just doesn't seem the same,
Yet I still look for you to blame,
I made haste laying waste
In the face, fetched silk lace,
To my own heart's melted case.
Lingering lingerie from last night's nameless stranger,
A horrible serenade when I thought your body surrendered,
I called your name when I came like I used to,
A mistake most irate, through my eyes I see you,
Every disbelieving belief in my cynical mind,
I have tried jerking off but just get close to crying,
Pathetic as it seems, a seemingless reality,
I write in paradox and ****** hope to bring to me,
The groundless belief in asinine wonder,
I think of you smiling and realize the sunder,
The corroded attempts of finding someone new,
Someone as smart, as gorgeous, as lovely as you,
I often lose sleep with a painful thought,
How long did it take to forget me?
May 2014 · 244
The Storm.
I prepared my abode,
Something lacking "home,"
I heard that it could happen,
My imagination took to roam.
I twined the oaks, reinforced with pines,
I housed the oats for the horses' fine,
In hindsight, I built a shelter
Much more worth my time.
You found me scarred and weary,
Out of the woodwork you seem to have came,
Your face that lit my darkest nights,
The eyes that killed the "same."
I just wish I could've seen,
God, if this storm would never come...
Complacency left me haunted
By the void, darkened by your absence,
The rain even seemed to avoid,
The garden we had cast as
A symbol of growth rather than destruction.
I felt it in my heart,
That everything would be lost,
I saw the lighting strike
And contend with your ghost,
The thunder rang as gunshots
Piercing my ringing ears,
And the clouds above like bloodclots,
The frigid wind allied my fears.
Blow, tempest, blow,
Carry me away from this,
The sordid scene like gallows
Hanging my chance to kiss,
The freezing lips that once warmed my being,
I couldn't help but notice seeing,
At where the Eye did pass atop,
All went quiet, to a pin drop,
In the distance I heard the clap,
The anger of God's voice,
How heavily He spat,
And the storm with all it's power and wail,
Did ****, bereave me of my nightingale.
May 2014 · 353
Everything I have ever held alive,
Has in my arms, in that embrace died,
Beyond sophisticated errs
Of philosophers' wanting cares,
Devised a great facade upon
That which I could not crowd along,
To witness and embrace the end
To lust for an emblazoned death,
A trial of melancholy cultivation
Failed by folly, conservation,
Attempts to push, create ahead
A road therewhich we breathe instead,
Falls short of what, inherently,
Is asked from birth of us to be,
Individual lives are shadowed by "Events,"
Smothered we are, beyond all pretense,
Asking what it means to "Be,"
There is no such thing as "Free."
May 2014 · 299
Awaiting Regret.
If every night ended the same
And I drowned in my own blood again,
If the moon did not coincide this night
I might never again be quite all right.
To feel this level of breathless dread,
I feel the light dimming again.
I can't stop coughing from choking back tears,
Never so much pain in all these years,
I tried so hard to create a world thus far
To keep us happy in a room this dark,
That every time I bite my tongue
The ladder we climb loses a rung,
And each instance my eyes close in the daunting night
I find myself hoping it's their last time
Fluttering faintly before an eternal rest,
I shudder anticipating my last agonizing breath.
May 2014 · 447
Ice blue, I’m so sorry,
I truly tried
To carry this message of loss,
To mankind from our Lord,
But they kept trying,
Not fearing themselves,
Their power too strong to forgive their mistakes,
I wish things were different…
But the brilliance of feign
Has left them all again and again,
To be sacrificed in Hell
For Eternity.
I’m so sorry.
May 2014 · 551
Dispatched to seek out the “traitors” of High,
Michael, Archangel of the sky,
With God’s wrath in heavy tow,
Would bring about our kind to woe,
He tortured Angels and Devils alike,
Until he came to Azrael’s Scythe,
One of the most glorious battles,
Michael and Azrael had no previous quarrels,
They slashed, parried, savaged and fought,
Until such a time as a season wrought
The Snow and sadness of Death and Decay,
Azrael’s strength was abound this day,
And as the Scythe found Michael’s neck,
Michael lowered his sword, all vexed,
Afraid of his Father for his apparent failure,
Azrael began to speak of the Savior,
Who one day would save the good of Earth,
Although Angels do not share this birth,
Michael then decided to stay and in moral,
Like Azrael, protecting all of the mortals,
He chose to leave Heaven for Earth in time,
Until Gabriel was to come collecting his fine.
And in this decision, Michael hid himself from God,
So that The Father believing Michael was lost,
Wept in His glorious stead,
Thinking that His Archangel was dead,
He spoke unto the remaining Six,
He spoke and then they were convinced,
The Parents of Nephilim had struck Michael down,
It was then, Gabriel swore, he would see his brother found.
May 2014 · 614
Angel Of Love, and The greatness of God,
Hadraniel who guided Moses, to spare the rod,
Standing two full million miles tall,
Lightning produced at each syllable called,
A Keeper of the Second Heavenly Gate,
He was tricked as some Angels escaped,
If not for this instance, there might not be,
A single Nephilim in history,
Once rebuked by God for failing,
Hadraniel has since found naught worth saying,
Standing mute, a sentinel for the Bound,
He wished to scour the Earth, shake the ground,
Given the option, he would indeed,
Bring all missing Angels to their knees,
To beg forgiveness from He Who Gives,
And to seek in The Father, to yet again live.
May 2014 · 597
Prologue: The Nephilim.
And it Was that The Holy Father created Man in his image with Adam
And as well it Was that Eve followed in the recurrent fathom.
So that balance was brought about to the world of men,
The Fallen, Son Of The Morning, leading them,
Sinned most grievously upon the Father Of The World,
That in the End, The Lord found something to be abhorred
Through many Ages and upon battlefields Heavenly and Demonic,
The Earth then found its paradise to become quite rotted,
The blood of the fallen Angelic creations
Stained so the ground, that interpretations
Failed to meet the descriptive magnitude,
To begin to scribe the crimson-red deluge.
What seemed to be Eternity had passed,
More than some, sick of fighting, took chance,
To live, to escape to the safety of Earth,
To baptize themselves in what once was paradise and birth,
God’s Angels and Lucifer’s commanders both
Fled to live with hope of peace and wroth
The beginnings of the end, without intent,
The destruction would result in the death of the children,
Created of Man, Angel, And Devil’s mixed seed,
The Nephilim created with all spliced genes,
Superior to Our Father’s first,
In strength, in mind, in spiritual girth,
Recorded Here are Scriptures of the last
God-like children from the past,
Describing their Parents in personal detail,
Shedding light then, on where modern day fails
May 2014 · 352
And everything went to hell...
The bodies lined the streets,
Children called to their mothers
As their homes fell to fallout and riot.
The ease of calimty has inevitably fallen,
Contemporary situations evade news of appalling
Images of self destruction
This fallacy proved, lead from corruption,
The final fall of society,
This poor excuse of humanity,
Will serve as example to those who may live,
We can hope their children won't so easily give.
May 2014 · 318
I watched everything I loved about you dissolve,
Sitting alone through time while my flesh did crawl,
Of all things in this world left sacred,
I suffered your recanting without such merit,
I despise everything that you've since done,
And what hurts more is what I've become,
Suffice it to say, I am no more,
You've naught for me, decayed, you adorn.
May 2014 · 727
Recording that of which time was spent,
It must be stated with some lament,
Mankind was never prepared for that
Which they saught so vehemently sat,
Upon the throne of their own faults,
Theology differentiated by default,
And by which we would derive
The definition of demise.
Annihilate me through my own inner goals,
And press upon my morals once told,
To keep my kin so lively and free,
Rid them of their depraved disease,
The freedoms and liberties of once passed down,
Caress the minds of a generation endowed,
Subject to sin and objectification,
Of an overly popular, judgmental nation,
An internal strife "To thineself always be true"
Yet knowing not what realties imbue,
Distressed, ingested ideals are formed
And peaceful requisitions are abhorred,
Selection is distraught and vague,
Left frustrated are those who live for today,
I must comment, request, and repent
That in honor of life, meaning is spent,
Lifeless are we, all left longing,
Know that in this life, there is nothing.
Title poem of the Lexicon collection in progress.
May 2014 · 370
Breathe In To Me.
Breathe in to me,
Exhale your anguish,
Forever mourning
The whispered pains
Of which from you I relieve.
If I could but conquer this distance spanning
From an ocean's lack of understanding,
Gladly suffering so that I may
See you at the end of a somber day,
Awakening within a tempest's wrath,
With the storm's warm water, I'll run you a bath,
So soothing draught and not without sensation,
I want not rid of you, the finest creation,
That when I expire, and look upon Death's peaceful image,
I will throughout ten thousand lifetimes search for your visage.
By the light of my last candle
Fighting the void, vastness of the night,
I endeavor to use the remaining ink
To paint a worded portrait of your sight.
I struggle to find eloquent metaphor,
Even find hardship with this quibbling prose
To record, to brush enough detail
Of exactly how my heart’s composed.
With bated breath, I do inhale you,
With staggered gait, I am withdrawn,
With gleaming eyes I do perceive you,
I wish it real to my last dawn.
Pure happenstance that I had been,
But so easily pulled into your mind,
However, you in mine always remain,
From when I first caught your steady gaze in time.
There was a fire inside me once,
That turned all therein to ash,
But you became my sweet lolling breeze
That wisped away the cremated past.
You sedate the Evil within me,
So far that you’d never know it was there,
And yet each day away between us
Brings closer my poisoning the air.
The tiresome, bleak creeks of old wind-leaning pines,
Draped across the gnarled forest where all things go to die,
Mean nothing to me in all ignorant omnicide;
I would give the world for you, my sweet paradise.
Apr 2014 · 532
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.
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