Classic trepidation, stationary with the aura of
Coincidence, slit myself and call it skyward thinking
Sinking feelings that argue for a sudden resignation
Conscientiousness, leprous and typesetting

Intimate knowledge that I disclose verbatim cannot, and should not, ever be used against me.
Interest infected through wavelengths, non responsive partly cause of the rupturing that's been running through my dreams.
Scant as fixes to the problems, overblown and oft forgotten, lisping when I speak of this Epiphany.
Taxidermist furnish houses, howling wolves that get devoured, sounds like God and hell and them finally worked out peace.

Just cosmetic, slightly pathetic the ease at which the mind elapses
Classics retconned till nothing's left except the years of influence
Invested in the melancholy, snobs lobbyist and in distant memories

Sometimes i wonder what happened to us,
And it's so ironic,
'Cause i am the one always saying
And preaching about how
Inevitable change is..

Not that i was unrealistic,
It's just that
you're one change
One change
i hoped wouldn't happen..

-fir.m

Time is a funny thing
We are always talking about it
Which is ironic because then the time goes to waste

Time is Forever
Time is the Future
Time is the Past
Time is Now

We have to use it wisely
Because we never know how much we have
If you worry to much then you will lose precious time
Because time is just that, precious

I walk my life, a subway station
Where dirt consorts
The air around.
It pounds my nape,
It flames my mind
With sights and fates
And sounds.

Above, a tram goes up the alley
Tinged with canary hue.
Below, my wit:
What void, what valley:
It sank, in Tagus mused.

I take a seat, doors screech behind.
O, what wondrous whiffs?
Of metal beams
Attriting loudly
Against metal wheels?

To a halt it cuts my chain of thought,
Rivals my dream, they brawl.
'Tis from the gallery
Of broken hope
The beggar man crawls.

Intemperate horns his entry announce,
Dysphoric scenes aground.
He comes detuned
Near clears his throat,
Lethargic voice resounds:

I beat my cane
In wrongful rhythm,
'Cause wrongful
Was my life.
My voice hurts from
All this singing:
'Twas morphed into
A sigh.
I longed, I longed
For all my sinning
Was ought to be repaid.
Deserved so much,
God took my
Will, my sight,
My love, my
Name.

So tell me, vagrant,
What did He take?
-Said I-
Who has loved you?
What is your will,
What name did you go by?

I used to be a man of soul
Whose heart beat strong and dign,
I used to write
And then I died
On the 10th before July.

He took my coins for all my service
At wars:
At land
At sea
-The waves still have her,
Laying there still,
Waiting away from me!-
Said he-
I will my love,
My fire, passion
-My young Natercia!-
Most darling of all nymphaea!

So God is just after all,
Replacing sin with grief.
No need for me
To pay the man:
God has done the deed.

The deadbeat coins of his cup
Turmoil ever so slightly.
I leave my dream,
Doors shrill again:
'Tis time to end my journey.

I don’t know what I’m looking for
But I’m looking for something
And I keep ending up back at
“Everything is nothing”
Which means that nothing is something
And the thoughts refuse to stop coming
I know there’s no running

I cant escape being in this ring
Forever feeling like every direction is a haphazard swing
I can’t see a thing
Feeling like society’s puppet on a string
There’s a list I keep, sorta sloppy neat
But God tells me, “take a seat”
I yell back, “that’s no easy feat”

I don’t understand what all of this is for
Life feels like a game, except I can’t score
I can’t open the ****** door
They wanna say, “when life closes a door, it opens a window”
But all I see is a **** show
That’s not to say, I don’t see the beauty in how a river flows
That’s not to say, I don’t see the beauty in how the same river froze
You can tell me I’m dramatic, that I wallow in my throes
And yeah Lil *** told me, “that’s the way life goes”
But I’m fed up with everyone’s prose
I don’t want to believe that’s really how it goes

And so I sit with Robert Frost
At his two roads, curious at how he tells me he’s actually not lost
How it’s not left to the probability of a coin toss
That everyone just wants to be their own boss
Pretending that they aren’t nailed to their own cross

I don’t know what I’m looking for
But I think maybe I’ve been playing the game wrong
That there is no score which could lead to more
All I’ve got is a case of nothing being something
And that’s really nothing more
Than “everything is nothing” for sure.

Since Fortnite is incredibly bad,
I turn it off and get real sad.
As I sit there, a thought comes to me,
There's a better game, but it isn't free.
With a forceful tone and a loud holler,
I demand my mom to pay 30 dollars.
She buys the game, it's called PUBG,
The price of this game was worth the fee.
I fight my way to a Chicken Dinner,
I killed 6 men but I'm still a winner.
My mom barged in and yelled at me,
"How dare you game this late," said she.
I said "Sorry Mom," and gave her a shove,
She said "Game, game, game, my love."