Born in the medievals
The thoughts of many stray
Hidden wishes not made known
Projective techniques can't get but few
The flames of thoughts that consume me
Leaving a slight blisters of ravishing pain
A capsule of red and black entwined
like a time bomb shell,
It mars our heart
In the corridor of our heart
Some thought strays out
Ugly pleasures of unconscious wish fulfilments
Driven only by our instinct
But repressed deeply by our Super egos ...
An unconscious folks we grew to have
That represses all abnormal wishes,
Deep down into the sub conscious minds...
Like hunches
We back the thoughts no more....
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 11:09 AM UTC
Born in the medievals
The thoughts of many stray
Hidden wishes not made known
Projective techniques can't get but few
The flames of thoughts that consume me
Leaving a slight blisters of ravishing pain
A capsule of red and black entwined
like a time bomb shell,
It mars our heart
In the corridor of our heart
Some thought strays out
Ugly pleasures of unconscious wish fulfilments
Driven only by our instinct
But repressed deeply by our Super egos ...
An unconscious folks we grew to have
That represses all abnormal wishes,
Deep down into the sub conscious minds...
Like hunches
We back the thoughts no more....
There re thoughts we know to ourselves, in the corridor of our heart ... that we deny on the outside... we all have that one wish that will bring pleasure, but its against the norms... and so we bury it.
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