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i.

Last eve', whilst mine Filipino rose
Was falling deep into her slumber;
I started to doze off, into hypnagogic state
I wasn't sleeping, nor was I fully awake.

ii.

In the midst of this hallucinatory reality
I couldst discern a tender mild voice, betwixt this actuality;
The strong yet forward word's spoke as this to me
Brandon, "doth thou want to cometh home to JESUS CHRIST" ?

iii.

As tis the word's JESUS CHRIST were in italic bold font
From the way it was saidst, it was sung as an angel wouldst singeth his name up in heaven; someone, not knowing whom, asked if I wanted to cometh home, was this an angel, or a dream?

iv.

Ive hadst encounter's with demonic being's daily, as tis I've had angelic encounter's as well, wouldst twenty seven be mine last;
As I've thought of this a many whilst's, as tis every musician of mine I've loved died at this age, as two plus seven equal's nine.

v.

Nine, mine favorite number, mine sport's digit always chosen as a boy, nine, the number meaning completion in all religion's;
The figure representing the completion of life's own cycle, as tis so many star's completed their journey at 27, was I being called?

Ivi.

Didst someone asketh me to cometh home? Back where I belong? To the star's? To God's son? Number's alway's meaneth something; in mine bible, in all religion's, in all thing's, as tis angel's speaketh in front of thee or in dream's, was that mine angel? Calling me?
True story... While between sleep and awake while watching Jane sleep last evening, the words loud yet soft spoken said to me
( Brandon, do you wanna come home? Or are you ready to come home but I think first thing I said... Lol then after the words do you wanna come home.... In a singing different angelic song they sung... TO JESUS CHRIST!!!! Wowww that woke me up from mine intermediate sleep loll umm honestly not ready to go back yet yes do wanna be in heaven now and escape this horrible world.. But I have so much more to change about me and help more people out and do stuff with mine queen Jane like meeting her so definitely not ready yet though as anyone should know... It's not up to us when we wanna go back home always or die... As our dear poet Ernest knew .. When God wants us he takes us plain and simple.... I know even when I get into that cycle of sleep when happens every soo often even stuff like that doesn't happen... I deeply believe one of mine protectors whether a family member or an angel most likely one or the other asked me last night that question in mine sleep.. Then that singing came in angelic and I was awake after lolll so yeah... Always pay ATTN.. as angels and demons more than exist.. Demons I
especially know much about being literally ( physically attacked) by them daily...  For those who wanna scoff and mock really don't care I've shown Jane this while talking with her one minute next I'll show her fresh scratch big and long on mine body! Or wherever they scratch... It's a constant thing... Why you ask? Demons hate hate hate see anything to do with Christ and Christs father... Especially Christ.. Though I sage mine house alot as does !mum.. And pray alot for Christ to make them go then they always leave.. They hate hearing his name.. They don't care to hear any other name that you might call on.. Noone else will protect you.. But they know Christ is the only one.. The PROTECTOR!!! And hate it when you say his name then they leave.... Thanks for reading..
hypnagogic state- means the place between sleep and wake.. Like paralysis in a way...
 Oct 2015 theunrealist
oni
my days
consist of
sitting around
waiting
for things
to get better,
while
making them
worse
 Oct 2015 theunrealist
Nevermind
The moon sung a song
In the form of stars
Stretching across the sky
So vast and far
In a voice so thin
Particles of space debris
Flew through the hoops
Of Saturn's rings
Light was the sound
Like a comet's tail
Pretty and white
As a wedding veil
The moon sang a song
Every night
And showered the land
In musical light
 Oct 2015 theunrealist
Nevermind
Blood dripping
From my nose
Vibrant red
Like a blooming rose
Bruises spreading
Under my skin
Like water color paints
Or an oil spill
Trembling electricity
Fills my limbs
Waiting for the invisible
To strike again
But the worst torture
Among them all
Is when mirrors
Form from walls
And I see
The mess you've made
Of a girl who said
She'd never be this way
The demons have got me,
Beating me black and blue.
All I want is pain,
And to end this torture.

I can no longer tell him.

I don't know if he cares,
If he ever has cared
Remotely. But his demons are winning
So I know he has no strength to
Ward off mine.

I wish I could help him,
Wish I was stronger.
Instead I surrender step by step
To the demons in my mind.
I've always had this monster in my mind...
 Oct 2015 theunrealist
RJVHorton
Shenanigans

Ridiculously unusual
This familiar face,
Peering out of a photograph
Into an empty space,
With the eyes of a child
Where my life began,
Yet with the aging skin
Of a dying man.

Grotesquely beautiful,
This gaping wound,
Oozing its mischief,
Honed and fine tuned,
Perfectly imperfect,
Crafted yet shoddy,
Just a few broken fragments
Where there should be a body.

Extraordinarily ordinary,
I am an unknown name,
Written on a stone
Where all stones look the same,
Where the dreams of strangers
Are too vivid to save,
Archived in a memory,
Concealed in a grave.

Unutterable shenanigans
Of lovers and old friends
Pretentious well-wishers
As my life-force ends,
And kneeling at a headstone
Between photographs aflame
Is me, as a child,
Chiselling my name.

© RJVHorton2015
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