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Auroleus Aug 2012
Beneath the autumn leaves
I sit and think
Beneath the autumn leaves.

Hollow trees produce no leaves,
Just empty branches
Without leaves.  

Crimson, orange and vibrant yellow,
Synaptic pathways bore and burrow,
I am not a hollow tree;
Empathize and dream with me.
Auroleus Aug 2012
Where does the money go?
I work, I toil, I bleed, I sweat;
But I have not one thing to show.

Maintaining highs but forever low,
I smoke, I fear, I fall, I fret;
Where does the money go?

Whichever way the wind does blow.
To myself I am in debt,
But I have not one thing to show.

An omnipresent malicious glow,
Resounding like a string quartet;
Where does the money go?

Perhaps I know...
Do I regret?
But I have not one thing to show.

Life's everlasting ebb and flow
Just goes to show how I forget-
Where does the money go?
But I have not one thing to show.
I'll ****** tell ya where it went.... Christ.....
Auroleus Aug 2012
Gone are the days
full of
Song and Sun Rays;

Crimes of the Times
outshine
Minds full of Rhymes;

Greed and Decay
make me
Bleed Disarray
while i
Feed from the Tray
where they
Peed - It's Okay,
but take
Heed what I Say...

Stripped are the Proles
while the
Stripped swing on Poles;

The Irresponsible Parent
spells doom
For the rest...

It's apparent,
abhorrent
although,
What a ******* beautiful mess...
Auroleus Aug 2012
A man was abused,
Subsequently accused
Of molesting the battered and bruised.

Then along came a rumor
Which banished all humor;
Away he was sent... but they did find a tumor.

But fortune was not on the side of the man,
For he not a penny, no rich uncle, no land.

So inside his head the tumor did stay,
Thoughts of molesting remain to this day,
He'll go to his grave with a gleam in his eyes;
A gleam that ensures his secluded demise.
Auroleus Aug 2012
sometimes I find myself staring at the ground for long periods of timeā€¦
some people think I'm depressed...
perhaps I am...
but there are quite a lot of insects down there.
most people never take notice as they're constantly consumed
with their own lives...
the upward glancers... the straight-forward perceptionists.
I wonder if insects ever get depressed
because we're
always
stepping on them...

— The End —