Apr 2010
Try men's souls. Provocative mind-whip how you soothe me. I scorn modern poetry...not because it is truly bad or truly good. It just makes me feel as if my pores are ever-expanding with clicking, skittering, masses of insects.
Black shiny minuscule monstrosity.
Beautiful in gritty grotesque.
A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...**** them all with glee
No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature,
we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us.
Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying.
Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such?
Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life.
I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist.
I love only once.
Burn them and their wicked kindness.
I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once.
My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps.
How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions.
I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism.
I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption.
she is grandeur made flesh
epiphany constituted within reach
glorious
*******, you sweet, sweet *******
this soul will rest
not mine, not ours
it will take rest and tendril itself through all
love commissions such things
what ****** soul
She I Cannot Resist
Black shiny minuscule monstrosity.
Beautiful in gritty grotesque.
A lamb lights upon the searing dark-light torch...**** them all with glee
No pity or remorse towards humans humanity human nature,
we are disgusting creatures until I cease thinking about us.
Then we are interesting and subject to more discovering and journeying.
Take the child and expose it to everything at once; it shrivels and mumbles distant screams of flaming cliches combined with a burning shot of plasmatic soul searching. How would we approve of such?
Inside the black brown shriveled parchment child-casing: The other children are ignorant. My crooked cracked being shivers disgustingly. I hate them instantly. Not hate. A rigid viscous feeling. Rip apart the sublime ape. She-he in all splendid obsession. Strive, then, no more to ape the emblems of the spirit that was, but evoke anew that spirit in modern life.
I, we trust none. Drama drama dramatic dramatically dramatical in all appearances, but truly flat-line non expressionist.
I love only once.
Burn them and their wicked kindness.
I will soothe my satisfactions and live love only once.
My Muse is the riptide chainsaw hackslash terror of our generation. Reveling in the natural ones. The rocks scrape phrases up of graves and trees wickle waveringly with pleadings of insane sleeps.
How beautiful is nature. That it can reduce us to nothing at all and raise us upon our grandest delusions.
I love to despise of women's voices. Androgyny is revelation worthy. Epiphany causing in romanticism.
I love to desire my emotional and mental consumption.
she is grandeur made flesh
epiphany constituted within reach
glorious
*******, you sweet, sweet *******
this soul will rest
not mine, not ours
it will take rest and tendril itself through all
love commissions such things
what ****** soul
She I Cannot Resist
I can't seem to organize this one properly, and it may seem hard to understand, but it requires multiple readings and analyzing...which some people don't feel like doing.
I wrote this for a very androgynous woman that I loved dearly, but she was very insecure about herself and closed herself off from me because she wasn't sure what to do with someone who loved her more than anything.
I wrote this during my time of despairing over the fact that she wouldn't let me close.
I wrote this for a very androgynous woman that I loved dearly, but she was very insecure about herself and closed herself off from me because she wasn't sure what to do with someone who loved her more than anything.
I wrote this during my time of despairing over the fact that she wouldn't let me close.
