I can never respect people who take decisions for others, Omni present child wearing adolecence .
People must never assume they have all the answers When you play the role of the actors Idealising philosophies and mystic factors You judge, aware of your sorrow bearers And with each sin, a silent look, and a feather Torn apart to make it clearer That he whom survives is repressed While the new trend is depressed Yet somehow i still picture you in your white dress, Realigned. And the voice i talk to you with Is mine, but you are not me So how can i define The slips and fissures of your subconcsious mind And thirst to be free.
To each his field and angles And if **** is heaven i am still the devil
Words Of Harfouchism
People judge people who judge people who judge who etc..
I've seen this one angel hanging in town she dances and sings and spreads happiness around she's kind and funny and unique She bathes me in light every time we meet She grips my hand and walks with me down the street this angel isn't mine, but she knows what I need she knows my angles and shows them to me she read the lines that I am hiding closely she heats me up and melts me slowly She brings the light when the night is lonely And when I look at her eyes I swear they're glowing I know they're knowing I can see her probing It's not easy hiding from these angles she's bringing I want to speak, but the words are tainted My brain is jumbled and my thoughts scream faintly I know I'm being a selfish brat Is it my fault that I can be myself with you? Is my my fault that your essence is addicting? what angle do I need to see to see you being an angel over just me?
Haven't made anything in a long time, something happened recently that made me need a release of my feelings and thoughts and well, here it is.
When the sun awakens in your eyes and you greet the morning with a smile may the angels bend low to take notice and the demons crawl back into their pit For never had anyone known such grace or ever beheld such beauty since that first bright dawning of creation
Go outside. Because outside is where the beasts lay. They'll run with you all the way, In such a sprint that you never tire Or lose your breath Or shiver your legs At all.
Outside is where the sharp angles rest. Deep cuts in straight lines, red blood dripping like rain, And stones that have been cracking for centuries but never broken.
The great outdoors, that's where the fairies live. They'll love you like you never knew love before. It's the raw lips that kiss the roughest, The calloused hands that hold on the tightest. The rock-kissed fingers, they're designed to never let go.
Soft lips bruise. Mountainous lips live on forever.
Supple skin burns. Hard-cut edges light the flame in the sunrise.
Well-rounded means spoiled. Raw spirits mean earning the spoils.
Nature is telling us that we are not built for comfortable lives. We belong with our brothers, the wolves. We need to light the flames in each other to fight the wind. We need to be brash.