See where it gets you?
In the toilet bowl.
force fed remains,
instead of air,
grabbing at hair.
stop it stop it!
See where it gets you?
Wrapped up in business
never meant for
fitting, in turn,
Save me. Save you.
Save me? Save you?
Matter is finite.
I'm of it.
Build your empires.
Believe through the matter,
I pick myself up from the floor,
and sweep back my soaking mop.
I had a whole day
worse than tonight
just last week.
I'll enjoy my selfishness
while I can,
Soon after nibbling pumpkin pie,
I felt terribly amiss,
where death be not proud
did scythe lance me
never came to bring
bliss, well nigh,
thus hour writhing with torturous pain
awoke wish to lie with permanent rigor
mortis supine without an intestate
for meager pose Hessions this guy
attests, which scarce material goods,
one would immediately espy
little stock dis
due dill ling dad doth not deign
deliberately displaying no deny
ill asper being non
materialistic, not wanting aye asseverate
next of kin burden
some task to decry.
As per thee above mentioned
immediate grippe of jabbing
abdominal agony did not wane
for extended period of time,
which sudden devout
praying Holy Scott twas in vane
where that this ordinarily
spry body of mine
sought zilch ambition
tubby vaunted or urbane,
but these lovely bag of bones
felt fragile as if
one to many fruit loops taken
on Ozzy Osborne's ): crazy train
plagued with waves
of gastrointestinal agony
i.e. severe cramps dizziness
nauseousness, and re
pulsed with aversion
to air, don, or trumpet
a swan song, sans of this aged jilted
(once shy twice burned)
once besotted handsome swain
hobbled thus unable to ride
my high horse weathering a ****** reign
of terror reducing me to hash out,
this ridiculous juvenile refrain.
there's a lot wrong
with the earth-
& with my head
i'm trying to shed my addict skin
i'm so much more than what i depict
& i've come pretty far,
considering where i've been
& this world may be bleak
but i've gained some light
by burning down every
bridge in my sight-
you may say my pyromania
is born out of spite
but your toxicity is now gone.
i can finally breathe right.
so i'm going to continue
to fix myself
i'll box up old memories,
hide them high on a shelf
because i’m done treating the past
as my prison cell.
i've roamed ******* far
from the pits of your hell.
T-shirt soaked in blood,
Throbbing pain in his nostrils,
He needs a doctor.
My mom never let me play in ball pits
She said they were filled with germs
If it were up to me I'd have played in them
But I had to live by her terms where
As healthy baby born and raised
Only germs would get me sick
So I chose to stay away
Although I thought it was a trick
My mom never let me play in ball pits
She'd say they are covered in bacteria
And that's all the criteria needed
For her method of protection
Against the risk of infection
What about the protection
I needed from my own reflection
Pinching and tucking and *******
In my stomach to make the image in the mirror hurt less
Fighting and crying and trying
Did my mom really do her best
Now I'm not blaming her for the absurdity
For it was me who created my insecurity
That I failed to overlook each day
But it's ok
Because my mom never let me play in ball pits
Each of us our has own struggles or disease
Not just the flu or strep throat
Mine was the desire to please
Let go of all the worries
But I could not let the war cease
We can hope for the best and pray
But if we all get sick anyway
I must admit
That sometimes I wish I played in ball pits
The dragon saw me fly
Spread my wings in valour
Zipping across, beyond
Hoovering within and out
The bold red blood pumped
Showered zest and credence
Saw the springboard of the skies
Dreamt inside the beguiling clouds
Slept peacefully in a paradise
Forgot to guard from the fangs
******* in ripples of venoms
Gullible in the darkened scenes
Kidnapped and handcuffed on pillars
Chained in the unmoving conflicts
The chaotic shadowy cave stares
Dares to throw me in the deep pits
Fear is the only paralysis to fare
The pearls so outdated in efficacy
The bark of a feisty fighter diminishes
Love for humanity is the only key
Still the women wait in trembling hope
Near the old pit head in the valley;
The earth's turbulence has long abated;
"Let him live, dear God", each prays silently.
Still they linger, knees bloodied from kneeling
Hopelessly on the old cobbled main street,
Eyes **** red from constant weeping.
Not daring to acknowledge the worst.
Still lies the sad morning after the vigil,
And now there are no more survivors.
"**** this for a ******* waste of time,"
Yells Fat Irene as she waddles off to the pub.
The band starts playing at a ***** and crowded backyard.
Rebellious youth gather to cast their vote with the stomping of their doc martin boots.
Beer cans everywhere, everyone's trying to let loose the raw stranglehold their society has produced.
The guitars go off and the ritual begins.
First they assemble in the heart of the pit.
In the center individual tragedies bring fourth the wrath of a God's army.
Anarchy you call it, Ha! I call it reassurance, reassurance that this anger is surely communal.
I never saw it more clearer, the youth's power to resist: If the government wont hear us, we will create our own sound even under the batons of fascism, we spit on your rule, your control of our art.
We wont bow down to a law with our names written all over it, while another politician walks free from corruption.
While another officer guns down an un armed child and calls it self-defense.
While suspicious mass shootings continue to occur and mass cameras grow in recording.
While you send more people off to war for another countries resources.
These thoughts explode out of me into shoves, screams, ****** cuts, reckless behavior, and then finally release. Pure psychiatric release.
I stand before the walls of a glorified failure as it tumbles beneath itself.
The nature of a grave danger, labored with a dire wager.
Plunges and crumple, into a pile of rubble
and to continue forth into a hidden tunnel.
Dirt stain fingers and my inner winner;
The only tools left to dig a way out of our rapidly crumbling puzzle.
You delivered me my unfathomable killer-
A ineradicable form of justice.
My sacramental, misjudgment of
a thrill gone astray.
Leaving me feeding the birds which prey on saints most days.
I stand before the wall as a simple thrall.
Dirt and grime painting my nails.
I stand in my hellish pit readying to climb.
Ready to rise from the plague surrounding me.
To fill my lunges with air, not lingering with death.
I am ready.
The bringer on the rise.
— The End —