"Moments"
That moment
or is it this moment,
the next moment,
That defines how you define, that moment, in your life? ~SacredInkedveins
"Moments," written in a moment on 04/25/2017 in another moment of sleeplessness. Okay enough of that word. Blessings, me © 12 hours ago   life • moment • family • random • misc

Needs vs Wants:      They say, everyone, needs somebody. So they say. If that's the case then what I want is: I don't want to need anybody! ~me 4182018

Yeah, I agree with you,
So why you got to yell?
Yeah, I said your right,
What else can I do?
You just wanna fight!
Oh whatever, what the hell?
Did you just say we're through?
That's fine I'll walk that line!
No, plz believe I can walk,
Yeah, there's no reason to
reasonably talk,
Here's your ring,
Your castle is all your's my king!

Now halfway to the road,
You take me into hold?
Hold up, this is enough!
I'm tired of this ****,
Tomorrow you'll apologize & say it was because you were lit!
Happens every time, getting tired
of this same rhyme,
Go ahead & just **** me this time,
Keep choking me until I'm past passed out!
Do what you're always bragging about!

Great just what I thought,
I'm still going to wake up,
like the morning afterthought!

caress a ghost's hand to feel less lonely
undress her nightgown to feel her boney
structure and look into her eyes of ebony
what you cannot find within four walls
comes to you here, in your “baby doll”’s
presence, in waves of red light and calls
from people who prefer to think they missed
you but in reality theyve never felt rinsed
hands from blood that has stuck ever since
you raised them up high to struck a chord
in someones neck- only to feel a cheap sword
up your buttocks but not feel pain or sorrow.

The demon squirms under your touch.
The chair that was once possessed
by someone (or was it “something”?)
that could not move on from
their, old, familiar comfort.

The demon squirms under your touch.
Under your index finger, your ring finger
and the finger of promises
(that are yet to be fulfilled)
that is stuck in their plump limps.

(These plump limps are not to be on the
Same wavelength as you- In fact,
These pretty lips have been forced
to utter mumbled words of
ambiguous desire for your sake.)

You lay the (perhaps trusted) demon
On the train tracks, hoping for it
To lavish in the indicator
of sweet, fresh death.
Of Endless Blood.

The train comes.
The conductor does not stop.
The passengers do not scream.
The train goes for the demon,
Seemingly Deliberate.

The demon- it opens its eyes,
continues to breathe.

Regardless of the fact that its
Existence was woven exclusively
Because of your sins-

The demon weeps.

-

He weeps for heaven as he does not belong in your head anymore.
(He is real. He is an outcast produced from / a Heaven that has abandoned him and / now- you too?)

The train keeps going .

You, the Troubled Human, board the train.
(You feel something heavily pull at your / nerves and now you contemplate your / actions in opposition to the court room in / your head.)

You leave the weeping demon (dream)
(You cannot understand if the demon  is a  / dream and had / nestled itself deep in your roots.)

From where you stand, you see snow on its eyelids. You force yourself to kneel inside the compartment.
(The gesture is no longer an ode to the / demon’s Creator, for the Creator has no / desire to listen in on humanly matters.)

You pray for the supposed antagonist that lays its body, bare and vulnerable, on aged and ***** tracks.

-

Existence breathing in & out.
Existence that soon will bloom into ruby blood.
It slides from your scalp to your legs and to
the soil that birthed you
(Mother Nature listens in, whether she is  / proud of you or not, / you have grown to not to care.)
Existence, it tunes in & out,
For people that live on the edge
Of Nirvana.

Drums that are held by a ribcage are coming to
a promised halt, to an exasperated outro.

The demon (the Dream, the Ego) dies.

No one squirms for anything these days.

- Eoz