"indulges" poems
The Eid is bustling with joy
come let’s give it a try
f
l
y
away!
To the deathless groovy paradise
floating high on the elixir flow:
The triumphant joyous wave
streamed up from the secret bottom line!
Up above the lapis lazuli sky.
A pair of butterfly basks
in the sunlight
quietly indulges in style.
It goes on in slow motion
illuminating the night a firefly
perches on a slice of the Moon
flanked by the moonlight.
But you and me
we will rhyme and chant
in our lovely mother tongue.
In the same original lingua
like ‘Adam speaks up and all
angels listen in paradise’.
Come let’s give it a try
f
l
y
away!
On the wings of the moonlight
we will
s
a
i
l
away!
Ambling by the Moon
we'll **** through the starry nooks.
Eyes open and gently perched
atop a star for a moment or two.
We will see miles of galaxies
over the moonlit lakes of the blue
playing cool ravishing lutes!
The spring night is in bloom
and the cute sleeping beauty
wakes up playing the flute!
Musical half lights filling the sky.
Come let’s give it a try
f
l
y
away!
We’ll drink sharaban tahura
the holy wine of paradise
and once for all we will
k
i
s
s the death goodbye!
Our story will fill the divine soil
the heaven's flora and fauna
each and everyone will shine on our page
no houri will ever say finito singing our tale!
As Adam did it first stunned the angels
telling the nature of all things in paradise.
We will do that once more without a smirk
this time we will see the loving Creator!
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:04 PM UTC
Visions of vengeance on my mind
Awoke a past's persuasive ghost
Like a parasite disposes it's host
I left her loving soul behind
Hearing this demon's wicked rants
My resistance caved to thoughts provoked
Her love inside me I have choked
With these bare trembling hands
My restless spirit keen to elope
Now indulges in all luscious leisure
Yet looking for a hidden treasure
With a face not showing idle hope
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
Tunneling thoughts like rain
Craning through light clouds
Unsuspecting victims.
The fear
The tears
The temper tantrums;
A kind of rebuttal
That won't let our feet find land
We adjourned to rehearse,
but our efforts were null and void
Only to appease with flames
that licked our shriveled bodies
D r
i p
p i n
g
Kerosene
Tainted like ink Spilled on
Reams of paper
ruined like Christmas
A house warmed by Open flames
fallen candles Adorning
A naked kitchen My limp body,
Splayed beneath the oven
As
darkness indulges, It
consumes
The smoke, Fills
Each crevice
In your mind
Can you ever fight it
Burn your way back
To blissful ignorance.
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 1:59 PM UTC
every night before i sleep,
without fail, romance fills my mind
how hopeless, how naive,
however you wish to call me
but i think it's time
to finally pick the red glass shards
off the dark wooden shelf
that is so full of dust, i hardly recognize it
i cradle the glass in my hands
withstanding the sharp red
melting her into sweet honey
and knowing the broken glass, is nothing but temporary
i am not left without impurities
with sharp edges and deformities
but i am whole again
and i will not let anyone drop it again
because i will wait for an eternity
to find someone who puts the glass
up against the sunlight
and admires its beauty
i will find a love like mine
someone who indulges in flowers
and dream like christmas dates
and holding my small hands
there is no doubt about it
i am a realistic romantic
and i like you deserve to be loved,
endlessly so
Oct 6, 2023
Oct 6, 2023 at 5:40 PM UTC
*** for me!* I shout
She flashes her pearly whites
the brightest smile I've ever seen
(She likes it when I talk *****
gets wet off it ... soaking
the streets
flooded in every nook
rivers gorging car tires
thunderstorms are our communion
*** for me!* I shout
and She moans like a god ... boisterous
my legs pump faster now
Her cries are electric
I can't help but feel the jolt
louder baby
She indulges
and I come
full stop at the corner of Broadway & Covert
one day...
She will tire of my obscenities
all my **** you's~
in a final flash She will smite me
and when I reach home
He will be at the gate
crooked finger a compass pointing to hell
*** for me* I will cry
reverent in nostalgia
I will have played the game past the final quarter
still taunting His existence
but I'll smile
content in knowing
that every action has a consequence
content in knowing
that I learned that pre-god
pre-conservation of energy
content in knowing
that life taught me to run in thunderstorms
and the first time I shouted back
I felt enough energy to risk hell for it
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 11:27 PM UTC
An empty pub is the worst place to be,
In a city, Where even gods stay a bit longer every year,
Perhaps persuaded by the halcyon laughter of that half dressed street urchin,
Who has learnt to celebrate her comical existence,
In the pregnant underbelly of a false saint,
Who refuses to give birth to anything but naked poverty.
Small wonder the gods have never chosen to intervene in the city of joy,
After all its the fault of these urchins who refuse to abandon their filthy smiles,
And have the audacity to peak through the walls that we annually paint,
With the victorious colours of human values.
But why do they peek,
Isn't their world filled with the unmatched profoundness of black and white photography?
Isn't their world the home to poetic muses and romantic poverty ?
Indeed, why do they peek ?
Before the label on the bottle in front of me,
Makes you judge the potency of what I utter,
Let me tell you why.
For them our world is a constant theatrical which has run different shows annually,
Yet the only complaint they have perhaps is that the genre of the shows,
Have somehow never changed.
Its always been the darkest of satires,
Like the running satire in which half our society,
Sitting safe within the beautiful walls ,
We built around our indomitable prosperity and culture ,
Indulges,
In the hysterical condemnation of a man,
Who wants to build a beautiful wall on a different continent .
To protect the same
You know, I don't speak urchin-tongue,
But I have always had the gift to read feelings I shouldn’t,
And something tells me the urchins have titled this theatrical,
“Moral ************
But that’s not all,
An empty pub is the worst place to be in a city which refuses to let you give up hope,
And gently reminds you with every drink
That even when the rest of the world is out there dancing,
To the drum beats of happy endings and ephemeral farewells,
There’s one place that will never close its doors on you.
The only thing is.
The place isn’t the home you never ended up building with her,
It’s just an empty pub.
And that is why an empty pub is the worst place to be.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
My mind feels
As though it
Flickers.
“Tick,
Tic,
Ti,
T.”
To experience ADD
is to have your brain
Switch between
Six different channels,
Six different themes.
It will always feel like you are
Rocketing between things.
In the span of a second,
Your mind will explore the dying children
In Mozambique.
In the next ponder,
Your mind indulges in the roleplay of
Naruto and the pink-haired chick.
I have no power over
Who dances in my play.
I know they bring flames,
But I’m uncertain as to
Who is managing the stage.
I am the director of this show, yet
I was banned to say.
The show has no ending, no beginning,
My life didn't come with instructions.
So I ****** it up and just lived with it.
In the moments that I daydream,
I always force myself to be in the present.
In fear that the world will think
I'm too dumb or complacent.
But that's just how my brain works.
Ten seconds gone,
I am travelling across the pool.
A red bruise on my lips and
A crack on my tooth.
I ask myself again,
Then and there,
How and when
Did I get this bruise?
It can be such a disadvantage,
It can be such a gift.
To be wholesome in a way,
But to also lack the basics.
I feel like I’m constantly living between
The two binary opposites.
As regulating emotions
can become a huge problem
I may have creativity and the sway,
But I'm also managing my impulsivity every day.
Do you know
Why I zone out
And lose focus?
My world inside
Can just be too chaotic.
But trust that I'm working on it.
Regardless,
I know this faucet will flow seamlessly
And being more aware of this condition
Will only help me manage it.
So what have I to lose,
In the midst of this plight?
I’ve been writing a lot of poetry,
Haven’t I?
AOA
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
in her delicate hand
while her other hand nestled softly in mine
she looks up to my eyes
and smiles
as she gathers me up
to the hay in the barnyard
where she lay with me
and indulges me of her delights
we lay in the cool air
and she is curled up in my arms singing to me softly
the summer birds dance in the open sky
the summer afternoon sun glows golden in her eyes
she looks up into my eyes
and without a word need to be said
and in my heart
the sunlight is devoted to her face
a worshipper of the only real beauty in the world
it caresses her delicate features
and paints my perception of her
she is a masterpiece of love
paints my vision of her
her vibrant laughter and smiles run
round in my heart
making themselves a home in my heart
and making my heart feel at home
she worries the hem of her white cotton dress
i lean in and kiss her lips
with the heartfelt adoration
of every ounce of my soul
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
Lost and confused, he found a path.
He followed it like the yellow brick road
Looking to find the wizard of Oz
For his one and only wish - HAPPINESS.
Yet, the yellow brick road he followed
Only led him to a path of self-destruction;
Because along the way he discovered distractions
To numb the pain until he found the wizard.
Until he found happiness.
He found comfort in those distractions
Which quickly turned into addictions.
Now he is stuck ,
In the middle of that yellow brick road .
Because the distractions he discovered along the way
Were destroying his soul; one bottle of *****
And bag of **** at a time.
A part of him has given up on finding the wizard.
So he indulges in his own self-destruction; stuck on a path that was meant to save him. To save him from himself.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
Quest along the beaten path -
Rite of Passage;
Cheerfully pay toll -
Your Fair Share of sacrifice.
In return,
Earn
Falsehoods, hollow&unholy;
Silhouettes of acceptance
Virtual applause
Manufactured smiles,
Which guide like tracks,
Revealing shortcuts to sunlight
Passing predators' dens
...
Lustful leeches
Latch on with thirst,
Flesh swells
Veins burst-
A familiar love
...
Still travelling
In figure 8s -
Hypnotic lemniscates,
An infinite conflict-
Self-reliant cannibal
Indulges in
Structured insanity.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_
....
A small little child with curly brown hair
Chubby, pink cheeks with skin so fair
Eats, enjoys, indulges and more
Everyone says "she's full for sure"
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_
....
A sweet little girl, with long pigtails
Sees all the girls, and wonders why she fails
They all have friends, but why doesn't she
How come they're all so happy
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_
....
A shy little girl, afraid to face her school
Everyone laughs, she's fat and 'uncool'
Sitting alone each and every day
Wondering why they treat her this way
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_
....
A mature little girl, much for her age
Looks at the number on the scale enraged
Hating herself and what she's become
Wishing to see all her bones such as some
_A_ _fat_ _little_ _girl_
....
A fat little girl, no food on her plate
Determined as hell to lose all this weight
Her friends and her family, see her each day
More and more frail, withering away
_A_ _sick_ _little_ _girl_
....
A skeleton of a girl, who once was happy and bright
Her eyes now dark and hollowed at night
Clinging to life with her small, bony hands
Regretting all childhood reprimands
_A_ _dead_ _little_ _girl_
....
A dead little girl, now merely a corpse
Leaving everyone behind feeling remorse
A closed casket service, nothing left to show
Wants to be be remembered as we all know
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
nefarious nested newfound
minds gather in dim-lit bedroom
shining with love.
taking seconds from an
extended time frame.
what eludes to harm done
comes from adultration
of a vision - friendship.
it's been said, no loyalty with
dope fiend drugdrugsdrug addicts.
when under the greensmoke
light of a cracked window
and wheezing-- OH the wheezing--
of youth taking
extra time to become
tomorrow's electronic future.
it's gonna be different
than yester-year, dear.
20% of our feeble country
engages indulges
in this ancient sacredity
&as; for you, my dear ones,
sitting in the dark,
jeopardy, saw IV, daft's
harderbetterfasterstronger
--"i've never seen so many colours!"
my heart calls as yours does,
for a future we're waking up to.
we're not violent vicious vile
backstabbing cold-mongers.
if anything,
laughing at them.
quoting movies, queueing memories.
preparing for world dissolution.
i hate the bane too, kids, but we
know who we are.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 6:05 AM UTC
When questioned what was nature,
i laughingly said s&m;
ravishing red roses thorns were meant for torture
but some indulge in them
Misunderstood poison ivy is
for her dark and seductive touch
leaving her victims perturbed with the faintest brush
shunned by the hollies for her dark and twisted roots
she finds solace in clandestiny
where she indulges in sinful truths
But if the darker side of nature
is perceived as such a sin
and on one hot july night the forest shall ignite
i’ll let the fickle flames fade into me
because the smell of burning saffron can be quite alright
Nature is a playground
and we dabble in different mounds
often forgetting the vines
that are to hold us down
to submit or not to submit
let ivy tell you
for one
false
move
the
vines
will
bruise
you
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Invite me to a masquerade held in a large hall
Most guests would be in suits, those you can see
Almost all are dark males, all quite are tall
All can't dance , because all of them are me
Few in this hall are some of my peers
One of me in a mask basks in their wonder
To them this mask is wise,and one without fear
The face behind though is foolish a coward and a blunder
Few in this hall are some of my enemies
One of me in a mask delights in their distaste
To them this mask promises violence with energy
Behind is the face of exhaustion and no anger to trace
Few in this hall are some of my mentors
One of me in a mask indulges in their praise
To them this mask is one of potential and future
Beneath lies the face marred by failure and laze
Few in this hall are some past lovers
One of me in a mask savors their longing
To them this mask is a story with a knight and a tower
But beneath Is the face of a lier gifted with talking
Few in this hall are my fellow Christians
One of me in a mask flaunts his humility
To them this mask is of true religious commissions
The face behind long faced spiritual sterility
The last in this hall are my family
I face them with half a mask of strength
To them the strong half mask, and the true half face of apathy
The half mask hides a face exhausted with it's life's long length
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 3:00 PM UTC
I shared with him my plot to save our skinz
"I think I em beginning to understand myself"
i say to him
He gives me a look of
"here dis ***** go again"
he indulges me
I go on and tell him
"What if I destroyed the white race by having *** with every white man"
"A way to reclaim my masculinity is to steal it back from the ones who stole me"
My ***** hang low when I remember that I am surviving as a ***** with no testosterone.
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 1:00 AM UTC
It's 4:43 in the AM -
Not in the afternoon where it's supposed to be
But dark instead -
Smoking a cigarette outside -
In the humid purple night -
Where lightning bugs are flying
Under sharp soft bursts of wind -
Pleasant in this misty heat -
You are nocturnal -
More comfortable in the dark -
Where thoughts flow more freely
With the freedom of shadows -
Hiding in the darkness -
Arousing passions -
Seducing lusts -
Running much faster from death's final dust -
Where flaming elixirs flow like silken rain
Under galaxies of stars and various planets -
Perfumes of the dark matter erupt in your mind -
Laying in tall grass, outstretched arms -
Legs curled up -
In awe of such massive wonder and chaos
That indulges my speck of existence -
This is when you understand the notion of 'Gods' -
And how truly privileged it is to live a life -
Where dreams will come, asleep or awake -
A nocturnal life is the life I live.
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 6:29 AM UTC
The poetic apprentice constantly
ponders and plans.
He dreams up wondrous writings that through critisms can stand.
He imagines mystical miracles he elaborates with his hand
Unending possibilities his vast
Mind demands
He scoures the depths and peruses vast heights.
He indulges crisp, cool mornings and envelops the nights.
He listens for lyrical lullabies and observes majestical sights.
He journeys throughout space
as he embarks on jaw-dropping flights.
The poetic apprentice searches
The depths of his heart
He dissects it and reads it
And tears it apart.
Then divulges it's secrets
And crafts them into his art
He wishes so dearly that his
Work becomes no disaster
He keeps his senses in tune
In hopes he'll one day be a master
As more work pours out the
Pressure grows faster and faster
But he'll slow down and humble himself
As his work evolves and becomes vaster
Now the poetic apprentice sighs
A great sigh of relief
He wipes off his brow
As he mumbles "good grief!"
His work is now over his
work is complete.
He knows they will like it.
Its his faith, his belief
The poetic poet now bows
To you, his work is bequeathed
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
She split minds apart when she walks into the room,
the radiance from the scarlet fabric on her honey milk skin polarizes the world to a central view.
Her competitors already know the battle is lost, because every man floats away like a helium filled balloon
Her magic works to the max, when she waltz across the dance floor like a beautiful witch on a Sunday afternoon.
they wonder the name of the architect responsible for her wicked curves, a unique type of geography, surely she must be new.
They think to themselves. She's probably with a politician, maybe a star who's gone home too soon.
I am not worthy, I stink of my experience with the last two.
As they waste golden moments caving into self doubts and relationship blues,
From the shadows, He steps up to stage to play the game of who's who.
He build's her confidence with an honest joke or two,
she buys into his bold point of view.
He excuses himself; gives her time to process his residue.
He makes his return to harvest the seed they grew,
She indulges, he is a perfect distraction from her new fool.
He steals her away for a chat by the pool.
He whisper's some words in her ears, and she feathers herself to recapture her hue.
He tells her "I have a drink that will make your lips think its hosting a party crew."
He makes a gamble like romeo wrote the rules.
With eyes locked, he shows her what his lips can do
The heats building up, she's waiting on him to put on the other glass shoe.
She wonders how to make the night fair and true.
"Let's go" words, he summarizes in two.
Envy and admiration storms up the crowd, only if they knew.
Later they dig deeper searching for clues.
He tells them and they look confused.
Its not about her or you.
Its about building a bridge that brings together two.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 12:12 PM UTC
Everyone has a story:
An accomplished dream,
A shattered dream,
A dream in the works!
Everyone has a story:
A battle won,
A battle lost,
A battle that is unfolding!
Everyone has a story:
An old wound,
A bleeding wound,
A scar that is healing!
Everyone has a story:
Life indulges you with its joys,
Coddles you with security,
Stretches you thin with its sorrows!
Everyone has a story, yet it is up to
You to ascend to victory in your
fight against agonies,
So you can write the last chapter of your story!
Hussein Dekmak
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 10:39 AM UTC
Life is truly a potpourri
a mix of exciting, scary, inspiring,
painful, joyful, heartbreaking,
disappointing, at times, exhausting
these days, there is no longer fear
i shall not fight it, if i fall right now
for,
i am the bent amongst the young,
the straight and tireless,
i always wonder why,
when a strong wind blows,
i still endure, still am standing...when
turning around requires much effort.
But, I can't hide how this world surrounding me
provides me with such a lift
it opens my half-closed view
yes, there are the dying parts, corners
but what i see mostly are blooms of vibrant yellows,
greens, pinks, peaches, so mellow
lively colors all around me.
even the naked tree, towers over me,
and in its own way
indulges in all the grace and beauty
that render both of us
breathless.
I am, now, in a worn down state,
but I refuse to give way,
for, I see, I feel
i am very much a part
of this pool of energy
effortlessly
continuously,
contagiously
pulsating,
this LIFE that leaves me expecting
for more blue skies.
I am a kite set free, flying on its own
i am a balloon, soaring, with no strings that hold
i am the old amidst the new
but,
i still am... a breath of life,
So...i struggle to live on.
Sally
Copyright March 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
These are the end times.
Judgment is coming
For our iniquities and apathy
For the ****** of the unborn
For worshiping money
For voting Democrat
For buying non-biodegradable products.
Or so they say.
I don't enjoy discussing
Or even hearing
About eschatology
When and how and why the world will end
Which is what seems to pervade the air at home
Every time the conversation suffers an unfortunate lull.
Some cathartic culmination
Of a Deity's wrath
No doubt for all the
*** drugs, and rock & roll
Humanity indulges in
On a daily basis.
Hearing about the end --
Demons born to women
Automatons wearing human skins
Talking animals
Seems so redundant.
The signs had been here all along.
We've been living with them for ages now.
What if
Instead of a violent, sudden cataclysm,
The end comes
As an implosion
Drawn out over billions of years?
What if the second law of thermodynamics
Is the prophesy
Doomsday prophets overlooked?
There are no aliens coming
To **** and subjugate this planet:
We're already here.
This is the end
We've been simmering in it
Fighting and spitting and cursing
In puddles of our filth and hate
The end has been unfolding
For the past few millennia
As humanity continues to multiply
Like rats beneath New York.
And here we are
Making plans
Getting married
Hoarding money
Getting **** drunk
Too busy preventing
The little apocalypses
Of our petty lives.
We're planting gardens
In the shadow of a warhead.
We all saw it coming
We were just too busy to care.
My world's already ending
In bits and pieces anyway
At random intervals
Every time I let someone in
And she inevitably leaves
Taking a piece of me with her
My sun dies in agonizing degrees
Even a quiet infatuation
Eats away at me
Crumb by crumb.
All those theories about the end
Forget them.
I'm living my own apocalypse
And surrounded by human-sized
People-shaped versions
Of the Four Horsemen
So shut up already.
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Distorted confirmation of self arrogance. Primitive tactics to reserve what no longer appears relevant. Hollow-filled apertures that indulges nothing but your own fatuity. But can you see through such an bombastic act? Of course you can't. The ground in which you stand upon is all you need to acknowledge. What you see is what was told to you and like a dog, an animal; you feed upon it. However, I have good news for you. You don't have to fret for I will be the one to protect you. I shall be the reassurance of your ignorance and shroud you with your own transient state of victory. Don't you see? Everything's going to be alright. I will bifurcate the tension and allow your very corridors to suffocate you.
This my friend is salvation. Let the wave's intangible force impale your breath. Let it slither through your sinews and let your veins corrode under the pressure of silence. Permit them, as if you had any choice to begin with; to be transformed into stone and eradicated into dust. My return? Oh, my return is imminent. The eventuality that is much more evident than the eventuality of eternal sleep to a human. So sit in the empty chair of Kings and make peace with the vanishing. Make it your throne and savor your trophies, your victories, and superiority. And vanish peacefully within the cool and gentle breeze of illusion.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 7:50 AM UTC
Through the fog and through the rain
and the midst of my escape
to seek a hope of rescue I await
that though I fell away
I become the master of the energies I once believed could not be tamed
And So I thank you
Thank you, for setting forth instruction, fufillng the indulges of my desire to be taught
In my adolesence
I listen to The Order of Your Word,
carried out through training
adhereing in self-discipline
I now had learned to crawl..
that in the giving of free will, I be given way to step my foot in straight directed forward path, to spread the power of your Love
Thank you, for the Wisdom to know choice
for even though evil ways I crossed
you granted opportunity
to raise me up and walk
Thank you, for the Wisdom that's your Son
Who descended from the heavens to
to guide the way in sacrifice
that our hearts may see the light, never growing cold, to be overshadowed by the darkness, that fades into the night
A Knowing, Through Jesus, The Law Fulfilling Christ
That in Wisdom we come to know the Truth
Truth that set forth Wisdom descended from the heavens to carry out the Truth
A spreading of the seed that through Wisdom you come to know the Truth
That Truth may blossom like the flowers of the field in hopes you be carried out by Wisdom
To the land that fosters only Truth
Truth that is of Wisdom
Because Wisdom is of Truth
Because Wisdome is the truth
Because Wisdom was The Word guided by the Truth
Because Wisdom is The Word Of Truth
In Ascention, to once again unite
The Trinity
The Infinite Divine
Cause the only path To Truth is Wisdom
because only Wisdom knows the Truth
Because Wisdom is the Truth
And Truth resides in Wisdom
Like Wisdom resides in Truth
And To Find Truth You must Find Wisdom
That it takes,
Wisdom to Know Truth
The Truth that is God
Thank you, that my loving you was my absolute and greatest fear
Whether I be right or whether I be wrong
It was in my sinning That I found the Fear of God
doors that led to my refuge
that I may know liberation
offerings he presents, to represent, his representations, of representatives
In that, Rising from submeregence
Thank you,
Blind that unblinded I became
I come to know the penalty,
A life without a cost, without cause
For such name I could not bear to hold
dissenigration of the deepest realms that had been placed,
For the Angels of the Fall..
I'm not meant to be here
Secluded in my hiding I find death, and death cannot be bought
To act against in Sins of He whom I Fear Most Loved,
That I once more come to Thank You,
For it was there, that I was found to find my self dwelling,
In the Shadows of The Lost
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 2:02 AM UTC
Forgive me, I'm broken, so my words will definitely cut you.
Forgive me, I'm bitter, so my thoughts might provoke you.
I'm still just a shell of who I hope to be. I don't meet your high expectations. Forgive me.
Forgive me, I've become numb, so your harsh, barbed, judgemental words don't infiltrate my being.
Forgive me, I'm unconventional, I'm weird, I'm unattractive so I don't get the love I deserve.
Never letting my guard down and keeping my composure tires me and this depresses me even more . Forgive me.
Forgive me, I'm a pathological liar who over-indulges on mediocrity, fear and feelings.
Forgive me because I'm unforgiving, I remember those who wronged me.
Please forgive me, because I'll never be able to forgive you for turning me into the monster that I am.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
for the false, convict, predilection for insane mumblings to cease into a void of hell, Nero indulges in the waters of the lethe, to forget life, the void, god.
to burn our cities, temples, is to drink, but to eat.
eat, mind you, the key to our temples, and dare not drink, least burn thy gods before unlocking their secrets, delectable enlightenment.
eat, and let the void's blackness of death be lit with the magnificent magentas, mauves, and cyans,
hue of inconceivable reaches of the potential of empty.
the psychedelic ****** frolic and feel,
pain sensual and dominating.
to the banks with Nero and his abyss of black,
let the cruel absence be filled with the blood of Nero, and the spectrum of our minds.
eject that horrid emperor for your self and your self's liberation from yourself. the ego, burns with Nero, in the fiery waters of the lethe.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:02 PM UTC