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.

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.

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With staggered gait, I am withdrawn,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.

Make me
Believe,
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.

I am the ***** in the darkness that beckons.
I am the ending the prophetic liars have reckoned.
The feeling you have at the moment before sleep,
Realization of the unknown, the gravity, and weep.
Take my hand and be born again,
I'll show you the minds of evil men.

O, Lord forgotten please accept
Me upon my mission bereft,
I look to the stars in darkness and cry,
And teeming with demons I ask you why,
And how I can be rid of myself,
How may I ask you for help?
Please remain with me where others have left,
Please linger with me as I conquer each step,
Forgive my wrath, forgive my hatred,
Please stay in my destitute heart, my Savior.
In all my life I shall remember my words,
About the others who walk with the heard.
Nunquam animadverto paradisum,
Omnes perdes qui scitus I,
In nomine Patris et Filii,
Et Spiritus Sancti.

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.”

Drowning spectators with hollow eyes,
Crucified demons remain inside,
Trying to be rid of their sullen crimes
Journeys through thinnest of thicks,
The revolting resolution makes all sick,
Burning at both ends of the wick
We are all spared in the eyes of our own
By those of us who share the word "home",
Although, it seems no light has shone,
I can't imagine a place so corrupt,
The fictional realities, this world is ******,
I pray for plague, some kind of luck,
To bring about some sort of disaster,
Upon the broken hand of each caster,
Of woe and porcelain alabaster.  
All the questions not withstanding,
I remain glad to be not worth saving.

Look upon this withered heart torn from its gaping womb,
From a cage most unintact that splattered this solemn room,
It lies awaiting to beat again yet life just passes by its hollow eyes,
What was once lost could not be found, left with the burden of despise,
A reinvention of mediocrity has met its final wandering doorstep
Yet tragically, the aftermath of such adventure falters forthwith,
reincarnate this heart, this necessary human gear, like clockwork,
And let it suffer and die again in this arbitrary life where death lurks,
In the moment's passing wind, may it hear the name that was its own,
And in its last breath, may it whisper the name that made this so.

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.

The verdict read guilty
The indictment so empty
I care for your suffering
Your empty regret,
The humanity is passion,
Feelings of disease,
You don't feel anything for me and rightly so,
Misguided, you say you see love,
Yet I am all that that is despise,
I am hatred and misery,
I am the empty casket
Summoned up from the abyss,
Your heart is a liar,
You've yet to scratch the surface.

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.

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

My lance, my Lord,
Shall purge the weak,
My sword will it then follow,
If not, then cord
Me to a cross, burned until the morrow.
My shield, your arm,
I seek what you would need,
My gentry, my farm,
Is yours, my Lord, for you, my Lord I bleed.

Leave me behind in the darkest depths of thine mind,

The ashen vale at where I sing, was for thou too much, thine suffering,

I wished for a kiss goodbye, but my thoughts betrayed my sacrifice,

I trudge on into this barreling chasm, barely escaping your breaking fathom,

Relieve me of what has since gone and passed,

Thine most regret to see me at last,

And wherefore do I belie thy still?

Perhaps it is thine precious will,

I will not stand yet, I shall remain seated

In what my mind has yet secreted,

Of failure, of faith,

Of my longing and wraith,

And of my mind for thou, irate,

At where my mind may rest, gestate,

This peace is not peace,

Nor a piece of relief,

It is only remorse and the gloom of failed grief.

The figure, old and decrepit,

lies in a silent tomb of regret,

he ponders his life and where

it has betray him with longing stare,

he slowly rocks to-and-fro

and yet he longs for one love so,

that he cries himself to sleep at night,

seeking some sort of holy plight

to fill his violent life with but one light.

-

he wishes for dreams sweet,

but his requests betray him,

he remembers bloodstained sand at his feet,

and the point at which men’s screams sustained him.

He remembers a thirst for death,

an unquenchable bloodlust.

-

He remembers bodies

covered in entrails and dust,

He sits and thinks though,

of only one retained image,

the figure of a child,

it was a haunting vision.

-

a stray round caught a woman’s throat,

her child covered in the blood that spared her coat,

He remembered this child,

that had watched his mother die,

a boy no more than fifteen,

didn’t so much as flinch or cry.

-

But what held him still,

because death was dealt before,

was the look in the boy’s eyes.

-

This look was hatred for everything that lived

because this woman had not,

this was his terrible decision,

causing awfulness and derision.

-

Within all men with emotion,

when anger’s strength is that of the oceans,

this warrior to-be, a devil’s scorn,

now has nothing, baptized in blood,

the man remembers his son, his brood,

as he was warborn.

I watched you desecrate the graves of all I loved that died.
I heard your voice before the light left my eyes,
Your lips that so swiftly spit falsehoods and horror,
Have been severed from many of those who abhor
The thought of your return like locusts' exploded wings.
You live only but to destroy the beautiful things.
I witnessed the struggle of those drowning in your spite,
And your mere essence constricts the air to tight
Velvet that infects the lungs of any too close,
An elephant on our chests, and all of those
Promises and sanctuaries rotted long ago,
But your brightest day looks on the bleakest tomorrow,
I have returned and promised your misery,
And to forfeit your programmed sincerity
This is your Hell from ceiling to floor,
And as you enter, notice my name above the door.

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
Reality.
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.

Sorrow sweeps

And sorrow swoons

Sorrow decays

the summer blooms,

Love corrupts

Love purrifies

Love lights up

Until you die

Sorrow strikes

Swing trapezes high,

Sorrow croons

Tears pierce the eye,

Love rots slowly,

Like a corpse,

Love takes no prisoners,

Love shows no remorse.

Something is different, her smile is rare,
What I give to see it upon a face so fair,
She cries at night, she doesn’t know I hear,
I wish I knew what she may fear.
-
It festers at me, I know it’s my doing,
Of anyone else, I bring all ruin,
She no longer sleeps through the night,
She leaves the bed to stand outside.
-
Fathoms deep in her own head,
I hear her speak softly, her words lessened,
If at all she speaks at first,
I wait upon each ******* word.
-
The fire in her eyes has been quenched to me,
The tragic loss to beautiful artistry,
For them I’ve doted upon very cold nights,
A shell of what she was, my own soul I fight.
-
We used to walk about the streets,
The empty boulevard and speak of dreams,
We have since stopped, she has no time,
I understand, disturbed she is of this heart of mine.

Whenever the thought crosses of this faceless humanity

And their poor excuses of this forgotten morality,

Hate exhumes what emotions left residing in me,

Love is dead and gone, hatred is the truth in me.

-

These creatures in the abyss, the depths of me,

Are the breaking point inside my reality,

I will never escape abandonment and purity,

We are to remain, solipsistically.

-

Each and every day, we walk mindless in the void again,

Questioning our own beliefs and trepidation,

We wonder why the endeavors never arrive in the end,

All the while, we do everything we can to break them.

-

We are the reason we will never achieve perfection,

We are nothing, worthless and in need of correction.

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.

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.

I know for a fact,
So yield to react,
That you birthed into a beautiful girl
A bright orange bird in a bleak ,grey world,
And to all the fondness I hide inside,
You know for you both, I would have died,
For you and any reason, all loss of control,
So long as you're happy, my life is full,
I know sometimes we don't get on,
But we've never had a darkest dawn.
I am for you, always here,
I hope that you speak with ne'er a fear,
We bleed the same, but it's more than that,
My love for you spans higher than mountains, to be exact.
I must be straight and not play with my words,
I am excited to watch you grow up, you gorgeous orange bird.

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.

The tears, like frost, become my favor,

But they don’t ever my happiness savor,

The memories, how they haunt me,

But I am happy whenever I see

Your face in my dreams,

Your arms around me.

-

And I am happy whenever I feel

Like it once was, it felt unreal,

All of this has burned my soul,

Such a feeling for a soul once cold,

I miss your scent, your pheromone,

I miss being there whilst you were alone.

-

For every sickness that could ail me

I knew you had the remedy

The cancerous hate that grew inside

Was suppressed for all time.

When you walked across my path

It didn’t feel so alone at last.

-

The dark woods in which my mind could “play”

Has lost the leaves, the autumn decayed

Everything there that was there to love

Everything else feels like wearing a glove,

There is still feeling, but numbed here now,

My skin doesn’t touch, no feelings endowed.

-

Those who have died have been this spared,

This feeling of wretchedness prepared

Me for all these types of misery,

The knowledge to avoid this pain eludes me.

-

This key may no longer to me belong,

But my heart is still yours, though it be not strong.

Let no one ever upon it gaze,

Until one day, perhaps you again say the phrase,

Let no one take it, lock it away,

Even if it remains forever to decay.

Undoubted, this level of worship,
Reaching above pulling currents
That justifies imposing torment
And yet drips blood of the calcified.
"It is inherent," I'm o'er told,
"To find and end your searching,
To seek but one thing to love."
What if I hate everything?
What if I'd be one with death,
What if I strive for your lament?
Perhaps I lust for some psychosis
Perchance to wake in your nightmares,
How is it, my dear, so far from belief,
That I would see this whole world burn?
Swallowed with plague,
Tyranny falls,
Dictatorships topple,
Monarchy crawls,
Your loved ones suffer,
Your friends all die,
Words become acid,
Tears are suicide,
Encrypted genomes
Now unlocked with instinctual bliss,
The inner beast assumes power,
The concious mind now sleeps,
Crime is objective,
A pure outlook of opinion,
Flayed heads on pikes,
The sentries of deception,
I want apocalypse in all forms
Spared of all deities' protection
I want the human mistake erased,
I want requiem and revelation.

I

Am the

Awakened

Wraith of Shadow.

I convey the urge

To silently converge

All of the deep seeded dreams,

Killing hopes of the redeemed,

Ripping the stitching of what was sown,

And dying with a painful, gasping moan.

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.

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."

Injured, Infected,

Your severe laceration

Has betrayed you yet.

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.

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.

Songs of the lost few
Who now wither away here,
Tell tales of old loss.

Gaze upon my parasitic words

That feast upon your purified soul,

Look into the eyes of my devil,

They be not diamonds, but coal.

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.

Pull your blanket above your head at night

and you might feel comfort in the dark.

-

I behold the abyss and am calmed.

-

The darkness ironically scares you,

you cannot help but think of the creatures.

-

I have walked with the Devil and was not alarmed.

-

Blood rushes to your head, you fear

what may come next and panic.

-

I see black only because I close my eyes

and welcome death.

-

You wonder why you get nothing you’ve asked for.

-

I wake up and wonder why I didn’t pass in the night,

allowing someone more suitable to be here.

-

You regard me with disfavor and hatred.

-

I barely glance at you to save what pity I have left.

-

You gaze into the darkness,

-

I Return The Stare.

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.

It is like water,

Blood pumping out on the dirt,

You Will Fall in Vain.

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?

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.

For a time, I was what you thought of
For a time, I was your truth...
For a time I was what you sought most
For a time, I wasn't blue.
In time, you came to love me
In time, it wasn't there,
In time, and still, I loved you,
And I still breath your air.

Out Of Love, There Is Born Reject,

Out Of Rejection, There Is Born Failure.

Out Of Failure, There Is Born Faith,

Out Of Faith, There Is Born Damnation,

Out Of Damnation, There Is Born Realization,

Out Of Realization, There Is Born Hate.

Out Of Hate, There Is Born Freedom.

Fear My Hatred,

Fear My Freedom.

Fear Everything I Am

And All I Will Become.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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”.