Mims 3d

pick, take, place, return,
no more,
I promise.
I return.
I pick, I take, I place, I return.
I pick the life, I take their time, I place it back on the counter,
a week later,
and then I return.
to the wisdom creator.
the power,
to relieve me of my woes,
of everyday life.

she, the one with the computer, and the scanner,
has the power to give me other lives,
or to make me love mine,

a little more

pick, take, place, return,

i really love the library

The up side
everyone knows your name

The down side
everyone knows your name

One breath is all it takes to
change my identity.

One step is enough for
My uncontrollable mind.

An imperceptible hand is
Leading me through their amusing creation.

Eyes once closed; nevermore opens.
Hollow thoughts; escaping my lips.

They mislead me,
Into the the confinement of my own emotions.

They enjoy messing with my mentality.
They relish getting under my skin; deep in.

They secured a place for me; the spotlight.
Making me entertain every personality.

They compelled me to anger them,
Making their voices get louder.

Their intention to sever my consciousness.
They earn for my downfall.

They accomplished their goal; a destructive doll.
A humanoid, a cold being.

They exhibits me,
Carries me through the center of myself.

Their amusement is crazily addicting.
It won’t be long before the invasion comes.

The aggression of my lunatic identities.
They're keeping my world in a hypnosis.

They're enemies inside of me.
They're making me the attraction of their psychotic parade.

I used some different words

Keep holding on to the light.
It never fully leaves when the moon rises.
But be aware of the shadows.
There’s a whole other world inside of them.

They drag you down and down.
Until you hit the bottom of your soul.
It’s cold and dark, an unknown existence.
You can never leave, it’s too late.

Stay like the weak wreck you are.
You’re not even trying to escape.
Do you give up that easy?
You’re a mess, an emotional mess.

Stop crying, it won’t help.
Stop shouting after your consciousness.
Free your soul from the fear.
Help, instead of being trapped inside of yourself.

Purify the darkness, let the moon rise once again.
Letting the light help you live.
But there’s a risk, the shadows.
They’re waiting, they’re hungry for a pathetic prey like you.

Stop keeping the circle of time in your life.
Leave it alone, before you fall into a pit of misery.
It’s dark down there, just like your soul.
It’s more lethal than ever; with walls painted with despair.

Eyes straining in the dark, searching after something usable.
Stay sane, if you can keep up with the twisted voices.
Don’t let them drag you deeper down.
Don’t let them manipulate you once again

A million worlds in one.
They’re all inside of me.
Screams filling  my lungs, it’s ringing in my ears.
They’re controlling me from my blind side.

Keep up with the running tears,
The pain has gotten deeper.
The hatred is using me.
The fear is haunting me forever.

There’s a hole in my heart.
The moon’s shining through my emptiness.
It’s making me sleepy, I see them.
It’s the shadows, they’re gonna get me.

I woke up by the river; mirroring the stars.
The moon saved me once again on this summer night.
The shadows dragged me here, they wanted to drown me in dreadfulness.
They’re what I fear the most; my Summer Nightmares.

Dark Delusion May 21

My words can never be explained.
My heart is too deep to explore.
My mind is too crowded to visit.
My soul is too cold to stay.

My eyes are dead with not a single hint of life.
My smile is just as fake as my emotions.
My body is the only live thing left that’s me.
I’ve abandoned my life a long time ago.

I search for something I’ll never find.
My memories betrays me over and over again.
I can’t keep up with the world.
I can’t trust anyone, not even myself.

Sun goes down, moon goes up.
A circle of light and darkness, never ending time.
It’s dragging me down to where I’ve never been.
Down to the abyss of my never known insanity.

My sins that fills me up.
The loud voices keeping me quiet.
No one even bother spending any emotion on me.
Everything is a waste if used on me.

My body can’t keep up with the decaying time.
I’m left alone with regret and flaws.
Nothing can drag me out of my current state.
Not even my life I can recreate.

Act I.


In the days where even love was fair,
The horizon was blithe, light everywhere
The meaning of life laid out before a soul
A vivacious task to be surpassed before one is old

The energy of the universe mysteriously undulated
Some answer to this enigma stood there, waited
For children, fools to take Fate by the hand
Late they bloomed weak at heart, couldn't stand

The words of others who lucidly predicted
That one day they would be indubitably afflicted
Soon fell down the path of least resistance,
Belted vainly cursing god and their existence

Cursed, they were children under a patient sky
With miraculous gifts but fated, born to die
For so long as they shall live they will ask "but why
Did our timorous Chance dissolve to farewell, goodbye?"

When insanity hung at the corners of the universe,
and Time stopped to pay tribute to those lost
As the world kept spinning spinning spinning faster than a
Salesman’s gab
When in the streets, rooftops we’d sit, speculating, formulating theories
About theories
As nights wasted being wasted slipped by like droplets of liquor
Into the gullets of the homeless
When come morning all the words had evaporated like
Fog, left us all thinking, pondering
As everything we thought of thought of us too, thinking of everything
Except what we traversed in days
When ripples of the water synchronized in flowing patterns;
And psychedelic rays glinted across the surface
As Bukowski scorned and Thoreau pondered the existence of time and space
And the relation of relations to unrelated causes
When the moon was dark and somber and heavy as lead,
And all the holy waxed and waned like pretty ladies in the brittle sun
As Eternity stretched out before us like a slender woman
With legs wildly open, enticing and inviting us into the Void
When window panes melted into our bodies minds souls hearts
Illuminating the unenlightened, the frightened youth
As Reality turned Fantasy, and fantasy turned nightmare
With a nation underground, under God forsaken to shallow minds and deep drugs
When the policemen protected their power,
And the powerful protected their defenders
As junkies slaved, Christians were saved, and the rest of us
Ran off like maniacs in humid July nights
When the stars were a lightyear away,
And atmosphere was bleak, miserable as wintry rain
As reality bent like trees in ominous storms
With a generation torn between the past and the boring
When days stretched out for miles with lifetimes festooned between
Frightened trees and tender leaves
As distant beaches eroded, and silent waves crashed,
Falling like timber which no one hears except yourself,
When you’re drowning in the darkness
And even the sun has given up on you.

Before, daylight urges affix to our vehement souls
And the bright white lights fluorescent overhead
Draw slender figures upon the concrete
While effervescent vagaries liquefy somewhere
Deep below the roots of consciousness
And perched saintly atop a shelf or counter
There lies this poison; this demon in a bottle
Who belts, shouts into the empty building
While the mindless drones are lulled into a drowsy, vacant
Corridor of ebullient sadness,
Knowing not where they had come from
Only concerned with where they, that night,
Will end up – up – in smoke, experience
Becomes memory: memories then wilt rot
Decompose like bodies in the sultriness of the Carolinas
As time elongates toward decades as a result
Of some diminutive years: monstrous days
Soaked in gin and holy water
With ragged cloth for clothing, sleeping on couches
In houses far from home
Which live on sad streets with long-faced fellows
Drinking the last of the midnight oil
Waiting for the rain, or maybe an answer
From god that simply will never come,
Some restless spirits, blue orbs of light
Penetrate through the abyss of darkness
While hipsters, junkies & luckless lovers
Dance in the fragility of a summer dawn
After thousands of two a.m. rambles, intellectual stumbling
And fumbling with cardboard boxes
On consistently crass shelves containing
Over-the-counter remedies for small maladies
As a perilous crew loiters outside a corporation which
Runs a country while beggars beg,
And women must please while the poor steal,
Reaching from under the thumbs of Society,
As privileged forever teens sneak off
With capsules and capsules of lean
Itching for one last escape from harsh realities;
Timidly waiting on something, everything
To move or change immensely.

From the rocky shores of grey western coastlines
To the dusty plains, the bread basket of the country;
In insane asylums, in restless slums with smiles in the dark bent, crooked
Like the interstate, the artery of cities lacking heart
In the back of cop cars cursing the necessity of order,
While men in black suits pitch products to a nation unsure of itself,
Thin grave faces scramble out doors leading towards the highway
And the ocean over the transient hills beyond sprawling centers,
Sinners imitate god in the holiness of morning sunshine
As the grasses trees flowers moss grow in shade sometimes
Without love, only light and the business men take
Their ties off and admire their wristwatch
Forgetting the time, the time when life and living mattered.

After countless minds were set free into an open world and got lost
indifferent waves and cool air fell over the land as railroads were displaced by automobiles and flying machines as wars came and went with it homeward peace for a time, the politician songs replaced words of politicians as the depression seeped slowly into constituents’ lives, the sexual revolution of the digital age ended and technology then surpassed human connection as air became toxic and the people too while Baby Boomers said the hell with the millennials as the last World War I veteran died with a broken world around him, as men thought like women but became them too, God turned his back on man and mankind searched for him in vain as forbidden fruits became heavenly smoke of tomorrow as wars arose for every cause with no cause for every war, and the third fourth umpteenth time the world didn’t end but held its breath

Into the pale evening two starry eyed lovers
Fled like bats at the gates of blinding dawn
After wild nights, which spun like the disco balls
That hung, heirloom of ancient times in outdated pool halls,
A new day soon to be born, illegitimate child of a bored cosmos

In voluminous stores diminutive souls in lanky bodies
Chase their fix as the clock strikes six a.m. and seemingly the world
Arrives simultaneously at dull jobs while somewhere down an aisle or at a register, a white Bearded hobo is struggling to pay for cigarettes and a Forty, the slim kids sneak through Electric doors with 47 pills in their pockets yearning for a cheap thrill
Outside someone squeals out of the enormous parking lot speeding away probably late for work, late for something as a select few brilliant fools await an adventure
In the crispness of an infant dawn as two lovers cross-eyed
With fervency warm each other with burning conversation across town as
Chalky liquids embitter their minds which race and gallop beating restlessly with Unending thumps of hooves through empty blank meadows wrapped in grey
With uncertain eyes always watching through single-paned windows as 18-year-olds, Each other's aficionados, stumble in a stupor across country lanes bound for sleep;
Soon the sun rises above the horizon unveiling a man tweaked out in his boxers writing Poetry about bugs, speaking to Jesus on the side of a winding road as farmers and repairmen Busy with work and providing, stare in bewilderment as they pass by.

Amongst abandoned parking lots with shaggy leaning buildings and charcoal black Windows, Another interstate murders one more town, self-labeled country boys roar through the Heat and Death of summer in their trucks, blotting out the holy sounds of church bells as joints Are rolled scrupulously out of bible paper and the ashes hover lag for a moment,
Sway and twist out the window into the gusts of an approaching storm as mere particles of a Once green crop down the street land atop a headstone with a marble hand
Pointing upward, up toward the skies and clouds birds all things elusive, sacred on this
Planet of billions; the ubiquitous rural boys hang a sharp left on Foy Street passing Railroad, barreling North East into the scattered graveyards of mobile homes and trailers
Beat-down Chevy's and farm equipment finally executing a daring left turn past the worn Out community center pushing 80 nearly 90 on steep curves and dips as their glazed eyes
Flash forward bringing a pale, red figure lying motionless in the road to their hazy vision, Brakes squeal and the vibrations in the air rise chaotic: the interstate takes one more for its own, Another tragic death caused by indifferent highways and cursory shifting identities of Youthful brutes, brittle as glass, having had only superfluous-ness and shimmering illusions
As role models, bathe in insecurities and dress up in petty narcissism while
Crimson floods the sullied earth and rivers turns to blood as night fell like a shroud.

Through some half-deserted streets,
By chance their frantic glances meet
In some bittersweet midnight moon beams
Conversation casts upon the pavement like dreams

Though now from the scene the dreams moaned and fled
That which was once born, once was dead.

Act II.

Some 5 hour red-eye flight through the tumultuous Midwest sky
Along with petite portioned meals, ad interim friends Paul Irving’s
Perennial aura of tarnished silver splashed onto floppy green leaves
Which dripped, cascaded down like some picturesque waterfall of
Emotion swaying back, forth filling the Void with content sounds
That picked at Paul saying “play…” while displaying before him an
Orchestra of nature as the flow rhythm rhyme of the seasons
Howled and sung ceaselessly through the day with but one reason:
Life is the music we hear; we do not sing it with our hearts
But destroy it with our minds.

Part. II

Days bled red, like sickly sunsets which glimmer, shimmer
On some forgotten pond in some forgotten part of the world.
I’ll have clarity, or give me death;
I’ll have madness, hopefully, until the last breath.
The woman fled like the night like an eager sun arriving
And still the music, the music of love, of Life
Drifted through streets, meadows, abandoned alleyways,
Through those lost, some found, until the melody, so softly sinking,
Dolefully pierced through an ale-soaked reverie
Alerting me to all that has come and gone.
And isn’t that just the traffic of life? the ebb, flow, rhythm
Of breathing, loving, living that stops – stops, sometimes goes
Sometimes in meter, sometimes without, but she still floats, flows.
As one story ends, another always begins; as one loses,
Another indubitably wins.
Through my eyes, there will always be a story to tell;
And through their eyes, there will always be a story to sell.
Of the car crashes, over-doses, near-misses, and the like unlike anything else,
There sits simply like a Buddha in the morn, a twist of fate: a train to be chased,
Though, a trained chased far too late.
It is here, some there, where I stand, ponder, think benignly of the past;
Wondering aloud in a soliloquy unheard why the good never seems to last.

the formatting is this is completely shattered; just, still, this is gold...please enjoy it!
VØD May 15

Leave me alone I...
Wanna go home it's...
All in my head I...
Won't be upset if...

Leave me alone I...
Wanna go home it's...
All in my head I...
Won't be upset if...

Heartbroken, Misspoken,
breaking anything I touch,
I'm not in...
Love I won't...
Let you control what I love...

Hate me...
Break me,
I'm killing everyone I love...

Hate me won't...
Break me,
I'm killing everyone I love...

Written and performed by: XXXTENTACION
A great musician offering great talent, style diversity, and his own aspect of originality to hip-hop and rap.

Innocence is no friend of mine,
My thoughts leading me to a darker time.
Dreaming of a pain, the kind worth begging for.

I've surrendered to your lips,
Soft and sweet, your addicting kiss.
Fantasizing, about you pulling on my hips.
Trapped in your tantalizing gaze

Sweet loss of breath, from your hand around my neck.
Lust in my eyes, as you thrust between my thighs.
My legs twitching, gripping you tightly.
Fading away into sweet insanity.


On September 11, 2017,
President Donald Trump had a peculiar epiphany.
While driving in the Presidential Limousine
Past a Mosque in the suburbs of Canton, Ohio,
President Trump suddenly decided
That Islam was the only True Religion
And that
"There is no god but God and the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) is his Messenger."
Trump then changed his name to Abdul-Hassan Benihana.
The Central Intelligence Agency
Identified Militant Anarchists in AUSTRALIA,
Under the Leadership of Dela Lenca,
As the most serious National Security Threat to the United States.
The U.S. Department of Defense  decided to drop
A 21,600 Pound "Moab" Bomb
On the Compound of Dela Lenca.
Dela Lenca and 13 of his supporters were killed.
In retaliation,
The Militant Australian Anarchists
Gunned down Daniel Moskowitz,
In front of Capitol Tea      
In Denver's Cherry Creek Mall.
President Abdul-Hassan Benihana
(Formerly known as Trump)
"How could those Militant Australian Anarchists"
"Gun down my  boy,"
"Daniel Moskowitz,"
Who was  been one of his strongest supporters
"During my  Presidential Campaign
"Against Hillary Rodham  Clinton?!"
He retaliated by Dropping  B53 9 megaton Nuclear Bombs,
On Australia's two largest cities:
Sydney and Melbourne.
40 million people died instantly
From this devastating  attack by the United States
And both Pacific and Indian Ocean
Became completely radioactive.
An Emergency Session was called  at the United Nations.
However,  President Abdul-Hassan Benihana,
(Formerly known as Trump),
Decided to LEVEL  United Nations,
And That was the End of the Story.

Mims May 10

All the card holders are empty,
These cards fill the library restroom,
(Library? REFUGE)
It's great these organizations exist,
Yes help,
More please!
What's more disturbing to me,
Is the fact that we need them,
Or even more so,
That the holders are empty.
The victims are,
Only increasing in numbers,
people are just becoming numbers,
And teenagers,
Are just statistics anymore.

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