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The tricks of the self:
to confuse and divide, ensnare and impair,
to turn the head on the tail.
Leaving us all chasing circles,
lashing out at phantoms and grasping for dreams.
Living our life's through fiction.
Against the real, it seems we rail.
My mistake was to believe:
To believe in human kindness or reason,
or that truth is in some way potent.
The idea that humanity could make sense,
of what the past will portent.
To dream that borders would not be
barriers to better ways.
D Feb 2017
There are so many people who do
and say controversial **** only in order
to gain the public's eye.
Not only on YouTube, take a look at that woman
who goes on Twitter and starts beef
with popular celebrities just so her name is in the news.
Tila Tequila is always posting the most
inappropriate crap, and I'm not talking about **** and *****,
I'm taking about praising ****** and mass genocide with passion.
Look at basically every successful politician
with the power of swaying the masses with
only a few words - I'm pointing at you Donald Trump.
It's ******* disgusting the lengths people can go
to get publicity, because as they say,
any publicity is good publicity, right? Wrong.
It only works because we
highlight it and glorify it,
people take sides and
the only thing left is a divide.
The only way to really stop this kind of
hate-spreading, fear mongering, classlessness
is to stop talking about them.
To completely shut them out.

But I know that's impossible, because
ridiculous as it sounds, there are going to be
people who agree with them, who will
glorify them and put them on pedestals
for being true to their cause.
So then what can we do?? I guess we continue
talking about it... and the loop goes on.  

Humanity isn't lost, it was never there to begin with.
This is the way of humans, there's always been
the ones like Polandbananas and Tila Tequila and Donald Trump,
and there always will be. But I want to believe
that the number of people with the capacity
to love and begin the change
is greater than the number of people
who are too set in their ways
to be persuade.
I felt like this could work as a spoken word after I finished writing it,
What do you think though?
You're Always the nowhere
in every location.
An Umbra unspoken:
Pure carbon black.
Impzz Jan 2017
Wake up wasting most of my life
Pass out I'm waiting on the night time
Can I be?
What you can see ?
Repeat until the days are over
Watching you and me get older
Following
What I think
Wicked ramble ways that I take
You find reality in escape
Is that true ?
Please step through

This ride that you took in your eyes
Put you right back down inside
and now it's all a dream
This ride that you took in your mind
Left you pale and zombiefied
a ghost like me

Whats that out in the distance
A lost tomb on the edge of existance
Desert skies
Down behind
Going to travel until I get there
Not going to stop until I get there
Now behind
The setting sunrise
Opening the front gates
I hope its not too late
To see what has they done to you
To see if what they said is true

This ride that you took in your eyes
Put you right back down inside
and now it's all a dream
This ride that you took in your mind
Left you pale and zombiefied
a ghost like me

I hope that I dont end up like you
Out in the desert with a lost tomb
I hope that I can find my way through
and not end up in a lost tomb

This ride that you took in your eyes
Put you right back down inside
and now it's all a dream
This ride that you took in your mind
Left you pale and zombiefied
a ghost like me
Song lyrics
The lights were artificial

the room was yet alive

it was cold, though the window was closed

the wind blowing outside mercilessly cried.



His memories lay garbled

as for misery, there was none

he had no company for a long time

and with despair he was done.



The familiarity of others had worn off

the extrovert had died along the way

his conscience seemed to fade and fade

till it was just a stream in his wake.



Running away from what he didn't know

laying waste, everything left was broke

it caught up to him, it was so slow

he found a friend in that haze of smoke.



Days started to pass by ever so fast

the window remained closed for good

the wind beat down at it every night

unhampered by it all, he stood.



Looking around in that pale light

the warmth had left him a long time ago

smiling at his own ****** plight

his friendship with loneliness began to grow.



Deeper and deeper he went into it

till there was nothing, not even light

he had burned his cigarette, blown smoke in the air

he battled with life and had won that fight.
Andy Nov 2016
Another morning
Blistering with iron self hate
'Dear, why must I wake?'
Greta Wocheski Oct 2016
the tears won't stop flowing, maybe this is how i'll
die.
the tears won't stop flowing, more especially when
i try to
stop
them.
the tears won't stop flowing and neither will my life.

but, for a second the tears do stop flowing when i think "excessive crying will be the reason that i die".

- g.w
we will all be okay.
Andy Oct 2016
I busted my ******* hand and it wasn't because we fought -
Only because I couldn't handle the manifestation of my paranoia.
Now it hurts when I wipe my *** or lift my dog, meniality becoming a master task.
A reflection of me that isn't me passes by with a strong stewed vegetable smell. My dark green sweatshirt rigged into the main grid of the city; its fibres and style backstreets and pulsing.
Not like I don't recollect who I am anymore after never knowing - visions of a man's head being crushed under train wheels giant and rusted foaming and screeching with primal rage, confettied brain matter explodes like a firework across blackened earth; children will investigate the remains with sticks.
Reflections on anxiety and paranoia.
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