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bellahinaPoems
A Writing Process in Delirium In case they come looking, I will pretend I don't see glitter in the sky, because I do, a crossed eyed believer screams for you. "I want to go home now" twenty-four years grieving the past present future, I still don't know who I'm missing I've gone psychotic once again-- don't dare turn round, they're coming for you with rot blood and a poor children's army so I was told Lucy is full of magic, under the insane asylum, in all delirium she left her body within a hollow willow tree to become a dream walker pacing deadfall manor, yet, someday you will understand why we cannot build ivory towers to heaven someday you will understand why the deciding fates left emerald tablets for daria's eyes, why they burn-- I don't know I cannot make a move without DMT and a heartbreak-- the critical axis of creatures connected to contrasted scenes here I was told to burn the money, "birth stars, instead" but if you catch the ash... Hell is a poet. roll it. smoke it. look at all the glitter in the sky? each moment is a myth handed to people who can no longer remember where they came from I have too many, they pile up like tangled chrysanthemums beating out each others beauty in the pursuit of the virgins sun-- Edger Keela Edger Keela said moments matter-- in fact, 15 minutes from now I will look up and mourn another lost trip trip trip trip knowing that the only time I cry is when clarity and alchemy forget one another, true love is a twisting light, I bow my head when I speak, I lay down and write with my tongue, my lips but willow can't sleep why can't willow sleep? on white sheets of unwritten life lines I've come to understand nothing but secrete doors, as if reality was hidden behind them; words of pitch black can be found, here the house is on fire... we set ourselves on fire on fire on fire,we write. 47 Like (19) Tip: felt long-winded at _, fewer words = more powerful Learn commenting The Life and Times of Johnny Behave This is because you wanted to be a human God of bodies. of degradation, a violent flower and witness to humanity dying on the hard chest of a dirt ground to be a God, give up your ways and dare to tell me of love, sacrifice compassion anymore than a whisper, a vicious pain that brings with it inhuman screams, sounds so guttural the onlookers will cover their ears in an attempt to lessen the horror of their own fright, until a jaw is broken and incapable of audible speech patterns, leaving the only language left to be made a gurgling unknown tinged with a coper wetness, listen, it tells a story of escapism from the lost crisscrossed paths of unmapped crossroads, veins of bondage-- and who should judge the wise blood for wanting to flee from a broken home? to find air that can no longer survive a hostile environment; the people will not. the discolored flesh will not because flesh alone opened its own doors when the beatings bashed so loud that it became impossible to ignore the violence of hate ringing in the half blackness half opened eyes, a slow motion blur that only leaves faces abnormally abstracted, haunted when vision turns unkind and shows small strokes of clarity into the deep hollows that are never fulfilled by watchers in the distance, watchers in the distance loyal to silence, and when omnipresent silence cannot stomach imagery created by hungry fear they will become loyal to slammed doors, thumps behind walls or volume buttons on remote controls, high music the mamas and the papas - - but never the one left to wonder why some people are the victims, and others keep smiling. though, there was a wildfire somewhere in a killers heart that is when the distance of light ignited-- a matchbook, history had called them stars, though they are too hypnotic. deviant in their ways, broken diamond eyes tasked to observe the observer; I think, what ****** eavesdroppers, do not speak to me of them, they are just like us and I cannot condone immortality after death, with the lights off? the birth of them are foolish-- but really, you should stand your ground this is a threat, threats threaded together because I cannot surely say anything of my shame? in a day, in a human? what saturated rays should make me recoil I can see whine tinted blinded angels like it was a Sunday sweet liquid filling, of innocence pouring sins and Hina, Hina, Hina exploding grand ****** golden suns, I had seen the future time we would reminisce of existence, reminisce of existence like an echo of harpy lungs buried yet still contracting beneath small childhood streets that remind me I am more alive than when Daisy and God broke my own rib on the bottom of a concrete hilltop and made a wish, a dream out of it leaving me the lesser kind, how does it feel to be the lesser? this isn't a question, you already know I know I know I know I am like a man cataract to the greatness that succumbs surrender, the anti- truth the Johnny behave the strength that cannot save us, muscle and tissue yes yes you should stand your ground, the fall is coming and has something to **** for.
0
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
The Life and Times of Johnny Behave
A Writing Process in Delirium In case they come looking, I will pretend I don't see glitter in the sky, because I do, a crossed eyed believer screams for you. "I want to go home now" twenty-four years grieving the past present future, I still don't know who I'm missing I've gone psychotic once again-- don't dare turn round, they're coming for you with rot blood and a poor children's army so I was told Lucy is full of magic, under the insane asylum, in all delirium she left her body within a hollow willow tree to become a dream walker pacing deadfall manor, yet, someday you will understand why we cannot build ivory towers to heaven someday you will understand why the deciding fates left emerald tablets for daria's eyes, why they burn-- I don't know I cannot make a move without DMT and a heartbreak-- the critical axis of creatures connected to contrasted scenes here I was told to burn the money, "birth stars, instead" but if you catch the ash... Hell is a poet. roll it. smoke it. look at all the glitter in the sky? each moment is a myth handed to people who can no longer remember where they came from I have too many, they pile up like tangled chrysanthemums beating out each others beauty in the pursuit of the virgins sun-- Edger Keela Edger Keela said moments matter-- in fact, 15 minutes from now I will look up and mourn another lost trip trip trip trip knowing that the only time I cry is when clarity and alchemy forget one another, true love is a twisting light, I bow my head when I speak, I lay down and write with my tongue, my lips but willow can't sleep why can't willow sleep? on white sheets of unwritten life lines I've come to understand nothing but secrete doors, as if reality was hidden behind them; words of pitch black can be found, here the house is on fire... we set ourselves on fire on fire on fire,we write. 47 Like (19) Tip: felt long-winded at _, fewer words = more powerful Learn commenting The Life and Times of Johnny Behave This is because you wanted to be a human God of bodies. of degradation, a violent flower and witness to humanity dying on the hard chest of a dirt ground to be a God, give up your ways and dare to tell me of love, sacrifice compassion anymore than a whisper, a vicious pain that brings with it inhuman screams, sounds so guttural the onlookers will cover their ears in an attempt to lessen the horror of their own fright, until a jaw is broken and incapable of audible speech patterns, leaving the only language left to be made a gurgling unknown tinged with a coper wetness, listen, it tells a story of escapism from the lost crisscrossed paths of unmapped crossroads, veins of bondage-- and who should judge the wise blood for wanting to flee from a broken home? to find air that can no longer survive a hostile environment; the people will not. the discolored flesh will not because flesh alone opened its own doors when the beatings bashed so loud that it became impossible to ignore the violence of hate ringing in the half blackness half opened eyes, a slow motion blur that only leaves faces abnormally abstracted, haunted when vision turns unkind and shows small strokes of clarity into the deep hollows that are never fulfilled by watchers in the distance, watchers in the distance loyal to silence, and when omnipresent silence cannot stomach imagery created by hungry fear they will become loyal to slammed doors, thumps behind walls or volume buttons on remote controls, high music the mamas and the papas - - but never the one left to wonder why some people are the victims, and others keep smiling. though, there was a wildfire somewhere in a killers heart that is when the distance of light ignited-- a matchbook, history had called them stars, though they are too hypnotic. deviant in their ways, broken diamond eyes tasked to observe the observer; I think, what ****** eavesdroppers, do not speak to me of them, they are just like us and I cannot condone immortality after death, with the lights off? the birth of them are foolish-- but really, you should stand your ground this is a threat, threats threaded together because I cannot surely say anything of my shame? in a day, in a human? what saturated rays should make me recoil I can see whine tinted blinded angels like it was a Sunday sweet liquid filling, of innocence pouring sins and Hina, Hina, Hina exploding grand ****** golden suns, I had seen the future time we would reminisce of existence, reminisce of existence like an echo of harpy lungs buried yet still contracting beneath small childhood streets that remind me I am more alive than when Daisy and God broke my own rib on the bottom of a concrete hilltop and made a wish, a dream out of it leaving me the lesser kind, how does it feel to be the lesser? this isn't a question, you already know I know I know I know I am like a man cataract to the greatness that succumbs surrender, the anti- truth the Johnny behave the strength that cannot save us, muscle and tissue yes yes you should stand your ground, the fall is coming and has something to **** for.
bellahina
Written by
bellahina
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
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