A drop of snow on the face of the sun a stone throw from the rainbow fondly close over the tulip colour stroke next to the Snow White's looking mirror?
What a sniff it gotten on the way? Turquoise butterfly is on the fly up on the top floor is lapis lazuli sky. Did it not only deduce the hunger pang time is on the run took the breath away even forgot the death maybe an inch away!
goon in love too soon to trust that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along gazing above wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me generational trauma, nature works in cycles generational drama, focus on plastic idols daydreams in the white room unfaithful to the divine fruit
To live without tradition To live without religion But rather to have faith and hope ... for all Simply to be one and not divided Not to be seen as man or woman Neither black or white But as a person Is that really so much to ask Not to be a race or gender ... but a being Just a being of self No ugly ... no pretty ... no rich ... no poor ... no status Just a person ... an existing and living being Radiating Love towards all To know that the light needs the dark And the dark needs the light Both need to coexist No-one can perform a good deed if there's no evil to conquer The street sweeper won't have any work If there weren't people careless enough to pollute the environment And so also the ants carried your breadcrumbs away that you left on the kitchen counter last night But still it's good to dream To dream of a perfect existence Of a place where there is only Love and peace A utopia I believe does exist beyond what we know The perfect dream The authentic dream
Looking for inspiration In a desolate dreary wasteland The same **** just different days spent Hoping life will finally make sense Cos I've got bored and aggravated With the drama that will unfold Is this really the end of the road before me I behold? So I form facts from fiction To avoid repetition Of dreary events to which each week ends Cos my yesterdays tomorrow You know so my yesterday will follow today A bit like Bill Murray From that film Groundhog Day But with a lot less adventure Or comedic reflection A script not to question No seems between scenes I'm caught in a dream I can't see me come free from And those are the facts son There's no lights camera action No glitz and no glamour Definitely no famous actor With the hardest tasks keeping track of ... Straight from morning to night In the flash of an eye The same simple ending A yawn then a sigh Only to wake with a shudder Butterflies inside flutter Feeling nothing but gutted No new day No new dollar It's the same as before As you walk out the door The same route to work To prepare for the worst And they call it White Collar Should be Call Centre Curse
I have to prove this tonight. Mind over matter. Thought is sharper than any knife, and moves faster than any bullet. Thought leaves the body at 10,000 signals per second, if propagated correctly it goes directly to who you send it to. It grabs friends along the way. Friends who want to **** for you. They will hang out around the target and then actually go into others and into the target. They can take over cells, thought, and well being. I am sending them tonight. In a few moments I will release these white stallions to trample and to bite the backs of the dark ones who travail in the shadows. No hiding. I know the routes to send them. There will be a lot of friends. The good spirits that are beaten down and awaiting their bodies to finish the dying process. They are in purgatory. I help them, and they are thankful for me, as I am thankful for them. I hope they are more gentle this time...I truly do.
This is my real life. This is science, with the things I've known since I was a child. I may be insane but thought aspires to become reality. I can close my eyes and watch someone die a million times within and hour. I am willing to put in that work. Craft
deathly light the diseased white sun will bleach your bones after the doves pick them clean
sickly white your cracked teeth clatter out of your skull dominos in a dead white jar
trembling hands the color of spoiling milk carefully cradle an almost translucent infant mother and child both far too weak to feed
the only thing that grows here is decay white mold thrives on your hoarded white bread while outside the safety of the white picket fence there is not a single soul who does not recognize the white of an unburied skeleton under a full moon
Revelations 6:8-And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to **** with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.