#perdition
To the airy king
Subjects of perdition bow.
Breathing in their fate.
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 10:44 PM UTC
it is a curse to remember,
and feel nostalgic
of a forgotten era,
when memories and reality
are complete opposites.
IA
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
Hey, Mister Man
Tell me why
You chose to steal concentration
Because of you,
I am in perdition
Vengeance is mine
Says the old and wise
But I can’t discern
When love fogs my eyes
So, coming down
The man in the Blue-Haired robes
Because of His brutal choke
Tonight, the choir sings
Of your deception
And my depression
So, coming down
Say something
Coming down
Do nothing
I can’t sleep while my soul
Cries at night
Hey, Mister Man
You’re coming down
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
We veered towards calle muerte. It is
inevitable we come here. Before this,
there was no us. All things was only
you. One year ago, you called me a
***** One month later, i learned
about the affair, that i was the obstacle.
Separation. It provokes anxiety
and relief. For appearances, a
requirement of exchange needs
subterfuge. It won't help us
to seem greedy to others. I
will not relinquish what is
lawful.
Last week, you invited me,
say you will give stuff
due to me. Yet, not my
pride? Let's not play
anymore.
The drive back to my
place disquiets us.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 5:03 AM UTC
Who am I to fly you to the sun,
Where the stars sit and watch us burn?
Who am I to take you to the sea,
Where Leviathan is supremacy?
Where else can I make your home,
A place where angels and demons roam?
Where can we find a safe hole-
A place to hide your precious soul?
Sometimes we can hear the ocean calling,
Sometimes its a still small voice whispering,
The voice Dear VIRGINIA heard- yes the troll,
We'll forever miss her- oh bless her soul;
What will the departed say of u and I?
Will they receive us in the sky?
What will we see when we look the devil in the eye,
Will it be hate, compassion, remorse or a battle cry?
Shall we see the pentagram when the sun king is born?
Will there be hope for the broken and the torn?
Will we hold hands and dance in the vineyard of Jezebel?
The vineyard which Naboth refused to sell.
What if we just sit beneath the stars tonight,
And watch our enemies burn in their fight?
And ask the moon to shine very bright,
So that none would be out of sight?
The world is in so much terror,
Anguish of an unending labor,
Children of perdition is all she brings forth,
Many without substance, without worth:
Gather your friends as we cross the red sea,
Let all those who say we can't, stand and see;
The sun and her friends shall stand still,
While we fulfill our hearts utmost will.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Burn, fire. Burn.
Spread thy blaze upon broken *******
Of meek men and woeful women.
Cast thy roaring flames into their sore hearts,
For no longer shall they lend submission
To the cold deceits of their perdition.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
I walk with weary eyes
Tired of seeing, no longer willing to hear
My head spins from the smoke of your conflagration
Burn me down from the inside out
Lungs of ice trap the filth
Make sure the essence becomes my own
I try to scream but cough out words of rancour
A whirlwind of smoke and embers
My ashes block the sun
Nothing can grow here
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.
Hell can be the job you choose to take
Or maybe it’s the place you choose to live.
It can be the lies you tell to others
And times you chose to take and not to give.
Some know stories all about the devil
And think that hell will come when we die.
But look around the world at those who suffer
And you may cease to question where and why.
There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.
Sometimes hell is exactly what you make it be.
Something you’re not strong enough to duck.
Others have their hell ****** upon them.
Maybe it’s all not much more than luck.
Hell is when you feel your life is suffering
And nothing ever will come set you free.
Giving up all hope of any rescue for you
How much worse can the Bible’s hell be?
There are a million kinds of hell
And they show us what we’re worth
More than a million paths to hell
And hell can be right here on earth.
There’s the hell that lying binds you,
And the hell when lust will blind you.
There’s a hell when envy grinds you
And when absolute riches find you.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
He reaches down to the dwindling Soul
Wrapping an arm around it
Forcing it to piece back together
Into something more human
Something more righteous
Than just a soul with no flesh
It hadn't meant to cause hurt or harm
But sending a man’s Soul back to his
Body has its repercussions
The tighter he holds the more the flesh burns
A burst of light in somewhere that
Has more than darkness
And the surroundings change
A man whom had been just a soul
Tearing and torturing other souls until he broke
Was once again human
A human with an angelic handprint
On his left shoulder
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 5:35 PM UTC
Une par une, les lignes s'accumulent
Mais des traits rien ne paraît
Et le dessein sombre dans le ridicule.
D'une noirceur lasse des temps indéfinis
Le graveur cherche sa matière.
Dans les recoins du monde archivé
Se serait-il égaré ?
La route est la même
Qui mène de la remembrance à l'oubli.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 3:32 PM UTC
Your eyes ,
the look .
Your voice ,
the words .
Your lips ,
the silhouette .
Your smile ,
the light .
Your body ,
the strength .
You ,
the perfection .
Your love ,
the perdition .
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
Your waters are dark and treacherous.
Your waters are deep and lethal.
They seem calm yet are not.
They seem comforting yet are not.
And I dived carelessly, into your abyss.
And I plunged, into my damnation.
Seeking freshness, comfort and loving.
Seeking desire, passion and longing.
And in your murky, bitter waters
I drowned a million times.
I was spun, I was desecrated.
I was murdered, I was obliterated.
And I couldn't see a thing,
I couldn't learn a thing.
Yet my purpose was due,
I emerged anew.
Exhausted, devastated.
Utterly spent and violated.
Deceived, betrayed.
Ridiculed, humiliated.
But anew, and all alone.
My approach to you destroyed me,
and I made myself again.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
The wrinkled fingers get *****
with the dusty objects.
The memories get *****
when it talks about the wins.
– Noise is big, but the heart is more.
I'm too old for the world
and the world is too old for me.
Don't think I'm deep man,
because I'm not, at least not like this.
– I'm bored therefore I write you.
Without me the machine doesn't express itself
and therefore it stops existing in hurry.
Oh let this pass!
– It's over, Vicent, it's over! You're gone and now I am.
It always sounds in vain,
trying to say their names with affection.
Oh please let them in peace!
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC