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#legitimacy
Ugly and disappointing colors are what they're revealing It's a challenge not to fall victim to the deceptive deceiving This world in which all are tirelessly scheming Corrupt messages intended to disillusion our modes of sensory The laws of this dishonesty are rarely discriminant The unlimited reach of the effects are constantly consistent Putting current views and outlooks in legitimate jeopardy Originality is one thing they've made a hobby of stealing Dark, ***** secrets require intelligent attempts at concealing This society in which all are tirelessly scheming Naivity is an automatic assumption of all that is innocent You can witness their successes expending minimal energy The fraud is hazardous; failure is certainly imminent One would desire that outcome sooner than later, as it leaves recipients feeling elderly With any form of luck, more will come to share this sentiment Endless efforts put toward developing façades generally appealing Aiming to have candor and valor on the knees, kneeling This reality in which all are tirelessly scheming Sturdy quilts to shield clarity are woven most expertly Time being tested passed slowly- increment by minute increment Blueprints to fool the majority will be, expectedly, intricate What was the original reality has been altered into a distant, doubted memory Any and all accomplished legitimitacy sends them all reeling There's always a "crisis" with which we should be dealing Our universe in which all are tirelessly scheming
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
Xyns
Tirelessly Scheming
Ugly and disappointing colors are what they're revealing It's a challenge not to fall victim to the deceptive deceiving This world in which all are tirelessly scheming Corrupt messages intended to disillusion our modes of sensory The laws of this dishonesty are rarely discriminant The unlimited reach of the effects are constantly consistent Putting current views and outlooks in legitimate jeopardy Originality is one thing they've made a hobby of stealing Dark, ***** secrets require intelligent attempts at concealing This society in which all are tirelessly scheming Naivity is an automatic assumption of all that is innocent You can witness their successes expending minimal energy The fraud is hazardous; failure is certainly imminent One would desire that outcome sooner than later, as it leaves recipients feeling elderly With any form of luck, more will come to share this sentiment Endless efforts put toward developing façades generally appealing Aiming to have candor and valor on the knees, kneeling This reality in which all are tirelessly scheming Sturdy quilts to shield clarity are woven most expertly Time being tested passed slowly- increment by minute increment Blueprints to fool the majority will be, expectedly, intricate What was the original reality has been altered into a distant, doubted memory Any and all accomplished legitimitacy sends them all reeling There's always a "crisis" with which we should be dealing Our universe in which all are tirelessly scheming
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I've been imagining a niche of people who take me seriously as a writer. People who see some beauty and legitimacy in the way I float through paychecks, late on rent and holding my breath as I sink in independence. I see the waterlogged corpse of an old man in the mirror, sunken in and sullen, melting like wax off a candle. I thought these were just waves of depression, but I feel an entire ocean lurks and churns inside me, begging to pour out. My ribs are bending under the pressure, my lungs are folded flat against my chest, my breath is short and cold. Thoughts are the moon that stirs the tide. And I carry this weight on a foundation of ******* sticks. I'm sorry if I came on too hard, or came off too melodramatic. Although honestly I'm sorry for too much, far too apologetic to be a legitimate writer anymore.
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Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
austin-heath
"Overture [A Ship That Holds a Sea]."
I've been imagining a niche of people who take me seriously as a writer. People who see some beauty and legitimacy in the way I float through paychecks, late on rent and holding my breath as I sink in independence. I see the waterlogged corpse of an old man in the mirror, sunken in and sullen, melting like wax off a candle. I thought these were just waves of depression, but I feel an entire ocean lurks and churns inside me, begging to pour out. My ribs are bending under the pressure, my lungs are folded flat against my chest, my breath is short and cold. Thoughts are the moon that stirs the tide. And I carry this weight on a foundation of ******* sticks. I'm sorry if I came on too hard, or came off too melodramatic. Although honestly I'm sorry for too much, far too apologetic to be a legitimate writer anymore.
Continue reading...
7