By Arcassin Burnham

Don't think that your alone for one second,
There's a world out there to explore,  you don't know about it,
Don't have to enter a sequence,
Just close your eyes and breathe,  there's no need to doubt it.

Don't think that your alone for one second,
There's a world out there to explore,  you don't know about it,
Don't have to enter a sequence,
Just close your eyes and breathe,  there's no need to doubt it,
There's no need to ever hate,
There's no need to ever fake,
Love and hate will fuse with destruction i hope you can't relate,
Sincerely your mistake of believing that clickbait,
Don't you feed the beast, just know your worth in this world to iterate,
The music,  the food,  the equality is all ******* up,  no apologies,
Left to wonder where the free thinkers will rewrite their discographies,
The world will be coming to an end, no time for thinking,
In the end you will decide what's real and fake in reality.

Stolen warmth gone for now,  followed by melancholic uneventful sounds. When I walk, I walk away from seeing. Everything I thought I might've been. This skin trying to fly away from me, like a misplaced shadow searching for a body to shrug off its grief. Bending, arcing, aching thumbs that have too much memory to allow them any fun. The old time might have agreed, with the girl lost for at least three weeks. Sugar and a can of milk condensed, heated up over campfire coals in the woods near Libereć.

Twice I'm too scared to talk. After a boxing match with a raging bull. Staleness lingers over these sweating hips, where half a moon quaffs down Verdi's Requiems. I told you I'm hiding in the jungle now. Through these cufflinks I speak through a startled jowl. First that dying tone, the startling sound of a fading D Minor song. The mines of the forest grieve, until the hours born sell the rights to sleep. Taken and away from grief, where wiggling children's fingers are seen. Only to find the child was not a realty.
Let your hands make amends to me, whether you're here for the pistachio ice cream or vanilla almond dream. Princess pleas for a pauper's being.

Looks like the child bit off half it's tongue, to ignore all inquiries into where its gone. Minute games and clauses of flesh, I tie her up using her own belt.  Chasing The Rockies for a festive blue, then I gorge myself while she enrolled me too. Quiet bandits filled with starlight.

By Arcassin Burnham


I'm Tired of facing hardships that don't have anything to do with me.
Looking for purposes that i would love to expand you see.
the love i feel is not as wild as it would seem when it's just a dream.
a lot of things are uncomfortable,
what you want your respect or somethin"?,
all the things i regret about ya,
like you think i won't amount to nothin",
all the negative things you lack,
that you see in me are the things your makin",
up in a society,
that apparently you let help raise me,
moving away will be the best thing for me,
so the rest won't believe your stories.