Pushing limits walking away
Why wait when I could act
Misplace passive aggression
With a pistol and a guilty conscious
(AIM) reaches are not running
When space bars cage an existence
Pulling words from these characters
Shooting messages flips to shaders through the windows
Online presents will determine you’re future income
Pass the aggression into a sight with an eye at pin point
Withdrawing (ATM), coloring red as the floor
Checking the walls as pink matter
Saving the mixes for the pallets on set
Depositing later all the info I need to  evade
Panic attacks walking
Bullets wait for running
Esc...
I’ll find joy in drowning in my own painting

rivers of dust
ninetynine cents
beastly fightin' wit
glowing nails
ain't no fakirs it is bloodshed
fakers neither knuckles bloodred

feel verse seven: just a bloodbath

I need you to call my name.

I want to hear it escape your throat.

You know my name. It is the one
that sounds like the stabbing of
steel shovels into sodden soil.

It is the one you addressed
on all those notes and letters.

Say it. Say it now.
Cry my name.

You will say it, even if
it spills from your teeth
and stains your ******* skin.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

Shots were shot inside your walls
by hands too hot to stop the fall
of bodies, wretched and angelic,
hanged and carefully laid upon your plains.

Deeds were done in the redbrick corners of your streets. Only mourners then remained in the memories of pain, and the folklore fear born by your command still stands to stain your hands.

Shots were shot to echo through the mountains. My idea of a summer death was real and, Alas, the trusting eyes of childish lies felt space-time tear and turned themselves to glass.

I cleaned my childhood home in honey light - a flight away from you, through pain. I fight your urge to overpower money and stand tall,
crouching low to scrub the stone floor of many childhoods' home.

My ears no longer scream in pain of nightmare visions, still seeing the shots you fired. Seeing your fire no more, I long for lore and love of mice. This year I'm under watercolour skies and listening to stories of light and newborn lies.

You lie who I am
so do not bother me, do not look
do not say anything, do not ignore me
act normal, can't you see
my Blood Flag in the storm!

I don't want sugar and no pat
and certainly not to be good
I want your recognition
of what has been done to me
only then will I lower my flag!

Well, say it, say it often
enough to make me believe
it is true, the bad luck
I've had, and that I am
wonderful nevertheless!

Only then will I say: ****!
It's over, come on!
I just have to live with it!
And not stand in my own way!
I can really bear that burden!

Assertiveness: standing up
for your own rights;
Don't infringe upon or ignore
anyone else's rights, though

It is not aggressiveness

Start with an "I" statement;
It should be descriptive, not
evaluative or condemnatory