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Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
An illusion to me was believing that the sun could be unset by
traveling this iced path laced with slippery regret.
But marked by my own accord, silvered bee stings from
nightly passions for crimes against myself.
Slithering softly a secretly silenced flow from blade tip
to skin deep are the fears held with the mind's first
traps.

Night-summers crept past my windows locked,
carefully observing my frame weaken from
failed attempts of drowning in my sleep.
As my heart slowed and breathing infrequent,
my mind wandered to darker halls, conversing
within myself for my own answers.
Rejection for help was an ambush set by my mind's second
maze.

All the leaves turned brown as the sky turned to gray
with an unfaithful thought to those I cherished.
With uttered sins against my enemies I lashed out,
"Till the last stands tall will I be undefeated."
Hubris being a blind path of death to the unwary disguises
Its self well within the needs of the suffering.
Tastes of abnormalities would tempt me to do what I did to
others to myself without choking up with hesitation in the third
riddle of my mind.

Daylight deceivers and no witness with a clue to what has gone
terribly wrong by fusing the thought of nine to one soul.
Recreation of my broken sky, a creation of myself as a product of
hurt by misleading lovers, blinded by love's desires to be accepted.
Life's lies lie in life's wake once your slumber has ended and your
eyes have awakened to the darkness of a fourth vision of an apocalyptic
mind.

Are they then over as they began their rampage?
No, never resting are tribulations of simple crimes
embossed to the sacred flesh of time itself.
Followed by my careful hand, shattered by the cares and worries,
I hold on to my broken shield of faith and pursue futures onward.
Thus, the last mistake, proven faulty at most, has been nothing more
than a grim reminiscence of why I exist. And so my mind fails to conceive
Its last oblivion.

© 2005
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Silent sounds brush
The eerie calm chants.
We knew it would happen,
But when would it happen?

Sing to me the sweet pain
And stem not the bleeding.
Tell the tale of summer’s cold
And breathe in the flames of winter.

You can pass my eyes
Without a second glance,
As I lip sync my thoughts
Onto your soft skin.

Resist not motion
Of a cherry sensation
Sweet, yet wild as
A blossom in full bloom.

© 2004
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Earthquakes due to a dropped feather
cause angels to fly underground
and demons to flood the skies.
Blood drips upward from crying eyes
while deep gnashes pour tears into the
dampening air.
Twisted words are humble as pie
but nice words are salt to the earth as
the grass cuts my skin.
Arctic prisons melt the sun with
cooling hate while we toy with the
lives of millions.

We never existed.

Mushroom people sitting around
all day, but who would believe you
when you've had too much sugar.
Let your mother pray for your death
as father prepares the swords and
pushes hilt deep past existence.
Apocalypse seems so futile now
as we already planned our demise.
We breathe, we live, we go.

We never existed.

We hide past our views on other
and we make broad assumptions
that were are not perfect.
Say it once, say it twice for
the guardian of Styx takes
all with the toll of time.
Sadness be it a disease or
an undying feeling for all
to bear in every way possible.

We never existed.

Be it a means to a life of
darkness or a life of light
Everything comes with a price
upon its own record.
Brace the darkness and brace
life giving force that compels
and attracts souls to unison.
Give up now or bear with
the truth of all things while
we wait and cry the night.

We never existed through
our own eyes, therefore
why should we start now?

Because. We. Never. Existed.

© 2004
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
‘cause I’m writing in the dark
And this light- it burns my eyes
This song, along with my soul,
Is fading with my cries

Nowhere I can turn
No one can help me here
No time left to grasp
Nothing to hold my fears

Darkest developments
Patience that once could live
A taste of the end so sweet
And nothing to give in return

Maybe I’m just scared
But I know that I’m scarred
To turn and walk away
Or runaway so far

© 2003
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Peering through the dark
Wondering where I failed
Another smile to say “I’m great”
But I would never say I’ve healed

Friends caring all too much
Sorry, your pasts I can’t relate
I made hate exist in my heart
And I can’t take it away

I don’t want you to worry
But this is what I cause
To lose what I dreamed of most
Mundane thoughts of a talent lost

It’s the magnitude that makes me sick
Makes me seem sadder than I am
But there’s really nothing left for me
My dreams will eventually break in time

© 2003
Neal Emanuelson Feb 2015
Still breathing, unfortunately
I feel cold
As if I was in the ground
It haunts me
These atrocious nightmares
My eternal soul’s scar

As I look to my right
Cold skies stare back menacingly
And to my left
The shadows call me
I don’t know where to go
And I don’t know how to live

A flame beckons to me
A light pulls me in
And I have this choice to make
How will I move on
Past the grave of life?

We were already dying
Since we began life
Now I’m sick of laying
In my grave of strife
And I’ll take your life once again
Always in death is the time I spend
Until I find a grave of my own

© 2003

— The End —