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Jul 2019
Just fractured textures
Excerpts of memories,
Forgotten conjectures

Trapped in space and time;
Just figments of rendered sectors
that I’ve assembled to fabricate
my reality beyond measure

I’m tethered but the pressure
Never lessens whatsoever
Forever endeavoring to sever my essence
Or consciousness altogether

The splendor of the Nether
Whether it’s my pleasure to ever enter
Or remain a lonely specter
destined to beg the question,
but plagued to always remember

I invent scenarios in my head
And fantasize how I long to be dead
While conceptualizing my grave end
Though I dread the inevitable attempt

The hand I’m dealt lost in the shuffle
My walls crumble deciphering life’s puzzles
Disillusioned with the hustle and bustle
Solutions come full circle at the bottom of a bottle

Mental status: unstable
Cerebral stasis turns tables
Visibly miserable and unable
To cope without the love of my chemical savior

From the apex, I’m ready to sail
While failing to grasp what all it entails
I steadily hide intent in my tales
In my dreams I’m haunted
since leaving the cradle

Life is beautifully frail
I see myself dancing in the portrayal
with the reaper as the main feature
veiled together in a cerebral theater

Patterns intertwine
In fashioned structures
I slumber and suffer
Painting caricatures

Of a perfect life
I yearn to capture
In lustrous colors
That fail to convert
Cunning Linguist
Written by
Cunning Linguist  29/M/An illusion of reality
(29/M/An illusion of reality)   
620
     Busbar Dancer and Bogdan Dragos
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