inside of me there is a cry no1 hears,
inside of me there is a guy that i must fear;
deep deep inside there is shout for help, every now and then it pips,
deep deep inside it hurts but dies down till it reaches my lips;

its a barren land inside of me, all dry and creep,A
where the trees have no leaves and the animals all weep;
the sun never rises, the moon is nowhere to be seen,
the rugged land and roads give it a mighty blinding sheen;
its the only source of light i've ever had,
the hope i derive from it, is all hollow and sad;
my soul wanders to its depths to seek company but in dismay,
every road i walked, every sea i swam but its all dark and gray;
where is it that the sun has gone, is the moon on a holiday..
its a barren land inside of me and all i have to say.....

inside of me there is a cry no1 hears,
inside of me there is a guy that i must fear;
deep deep inside there is shout for help, ever now and then it pips,
deep deep inside it hurts but dies down till it reaches my lips;

my spirit wanders in search, but its got no spirit left,
i'm tryin to resurface and i must count on every breath;
the vultures of fear await my death and sit in their perch n wait,
the bird of prey is hungry and it looks like m already too late;
is it time for me to let go, is it the time for me to fall,
i feel like crumbling but till my end i will slowly crawl;
the past is clouding and the future is lost in a mist,
my last goodbye to all must be a beautiful gift;
i don want people cryin, i doubt they even will,
the vulture i will call upon to save my burial bill;
nither do i belive in god, nor i ever did,
but the life wasn't worth livin, it was a sea so turbid;
so i dont pray to god to set my soul free,
oh lord let it wander, let my memory live, let all remember me;
there was a lot to be done, a lot to be conveyed,
i tried all my life, the voice got buried in a silence so widespread;
there were some thoughts in me, some heard and some said,
all i did was to shriek n wallow till i dropped dead....

inside of me there is a cry no1 hears,
inside of me there is a guy that i must fear;
deep deep inside there is shout for help, ever now and then it pips,
deep deep inside it hurts but dies down till it reaches my lips;

i was boy in a man's world, i was weak among strong foes,
i was dreamer in the land of reality and here the truth goes......

i was wrapped up
i was strapped up
i was blocked out i was closed,
i was mistaken
i was broken
i was shakin, out to the island i was rowed,
i was taken
i was tried
with a million charges i was blamed,
i was tortured
i was questioned
i was mimed and i was lamed,

here i lie now, my lord before you, a million queries now u'l ask,
here i see now in your eyes, you're to tired now, its the final task;
so i wont say what you dont ask, i will give you what you want,
before i close my eyes the last time, i will tell what you'll grant;
i am guilty, the charges accepted, **** this *******, set him free,
dont you hang me, dont you bury me, dont you lay your hands on me,
the vulture's waiting, my energy oozes, i accept it arms widespread,
you cannot **** me, m immortal, you cant **** who's already dead...
the vulture's waiting, my energy oozes, i accept it arms widespread,
you cannot **** me, m immortal, you cant **** who's already dead...

Deteriorated configurations that are
neither of consecutive methods
                                             or contorted reflections,
it's upon the eye line of those who look perplexed.

For what is slumped like tired unimportance,
is neither an inflexible road,
for nothing is
               either invariable or contorted
It's just a view that each takes.

                                Me I'm like the reed,
both woven in a paradox
of motions.
For who sees a contortionist
   that's neither of each
                                     or the other.

Riffling upon the aspects of my decisive
                            displacement that catches
nither the truth or the lie.
  
You  may catch the second,
                        or minute,
        but beyond the mirco filaments
that linger between variable glimpse
that pass.

Is more than constructive  tendrils
           of a lifetime of consequential
amendments or defaming the
              consequential understanding
that nothing plays by the rules..

I cheated, and for that I apologize I was the one who was supposed to keep you happy yet I brought tears to your eyes.

Apologies mean nothing at this point and I know that. This isn't some game I can restart or rerack.

Cause I ****** up I know it's true and when I think about it I see the baby and how it's gone too.

Now when I say its, I mean the baby's life, cause I took that away when I left you as my wife.

It's all my fault I'm responsible for your death, and yet I tried to make it all right and bring you into this mess.

Me and your mother weren't working not even in the beginning and yet we thought having a baby together would keep us going on, and living.

But instead we brought only your death, and I shed many tears for you, and there are still nights I can't rest.

Cause you didn't deserve it, and nither did your mother but I was a cowered who couldn't tell the truth that I was in love with another.

So instead I just left, and left you to die. While you mother stressed herself as she would lay on the ground and cry.

Please, forgive me not a day goes by I don't think about what I did. I know I don't deserve it for taking the life of my kid.

I know it doesn't mean much, and like I said there's no meaning in an apology but for what it's worth please understand I'm sorry.

I don't want your ******* kindness coins!
Get the **** away from me with those
disgustingly expectant eyeballs!
You're not a pig,
you're a LEECH!
and even that is an insult to the leeches
but you **** with all of your being
my blood let, unseeing,
my life drained
to sustain your sad,
slimy existence...

Nauseated, I plucked the plump, muculent bloodsack
from my skin, a snake so swollen with blood stolen hitherin that
you'll nither be rolln'or slither'n
soon thither
you'll be wither'n

Yeah, *******.

i have the choice to end it all
I have th choice to sleep
I cant do nither of them
Because ill see you in my sleep
And if i choose to end it
Im so afraid
Ill never see you again

Thoughts about you,
songs about you,
These people about you,
no worries in this world
when they're about you,
nither do I,
I try,
I try not to try to try,
but you've settled down,
gotten comfortable
as if at home,
alone, dinner for one,
all up in my skeleton,
But did I made you up?
No -
you took me down
to the underlying
side of a
melting iceberg,
where the penguins sit upon it
as the sun beats away
like a burning want,
strange animalist desire -
There's no magnetic field on Mars,
There
I wouldn't be pulled
one way or the other way,
There we would
just drift, like
melting icebergs
along red sand,
along mountains
the height of Everest,
almost as high
As I hold
you in my mind,
My closed first,
An open mouth,
could wait,
but it's
adolescent
fantastic fanatic fantasy,
maybe once,
not now,
not later,
but after later
at least,
at last -
45 minute blissful stints
better
the days
after days
after days
of the dull,
and nights
underneath
nights
inside
nights
Of null.

Just not smart enough
All your disguises
I knew from long ago
you were a black box
a blank canvas
a bored interloper
toying with all the rest of us.
Until one day, there will be a maiden fair
she will laugh, joke, cut, chop, hit,
powder you
until you can not resist.
Follow me some more,
I led you there, and here, and
wither and nither until
what happened?
An answer.

BRON  in a disfunctional American setting with rotten roots of an destroyed family with dead values mistaking lies for love....

she's on the go ,beautiful as a rose, but soonly changed
life from man to man serching for the father she never had
relying on the hardedn streets to deal her a better hand with clouded thoughts with desires for fancy things has a baby as a teen
cycle repeats it self once again.
alone the way soft peddles begain to ruffle bleed from her own throns she continue to ****** deeper ,traped  in the same ghetto as a rose refused to give up give in nither let go knowing if she stops now there's no sunshine and the soil that provides her roots will dry so she motivate her self everytime she hears her baby crys determine to survive while looking into a mirror now ,realize it's her Daugther eyes and see the same rose of the ghetto....

Troubled/ no or fair/ by the still golden waters cadence or refrain from the inclusion of an individual's own shackles/ which drum a constant clasp of the next intent based on the purity of the assessment/ schink shlank slap/
Cobbled were streets or hobbled we people/ their paths not just warriors but our own war with the weary looks of the discontent of gold without/ a mirror and resolved souls/
And so marks a facet to evoke endless return of magic's need for self preservation and the self that is legends own gold armour/ a victory we together pave/ Golden Stave...
If these are the truths we seek and/ the God or Gods to find answers/ then what anathema awaits or a convocation in place of that?... Of no less is our theory derived thus philosophy and deliverance interpose. Affine the nature of our path with a certain answer .. of only two choices... That which I am and that which I might convert
And we Christen this day with the memorialized self opacity - all persons but one in a mystic realm her story unfolds by the ancient altars bedlam...
What savvy morrows does clemency's graces trounce.. in upon as spiders/ no snakes assumed panderous/ a squander- no lions in a mane/ not lower but higher dragons by bane. Though the fury of deliverance quenching not a birth from dens of evil's title banned by ~gold~ and bones. In insipid shallows.. not a grievance shall I bequeath/ my final breath is upon the restless encounters sought by such velocity/.. of sallow's as any inner self. Such a contrast to presbyter zombies princesses and elves!
Why?!
I was in a dungeon in Hell being tortured by the devil.
Whence forth all stitches of sentient docile was challenging farther than the girth of the Lord's great ship. Reaching souls by way of coast to coast..
Lords and Ladies sorceresses and witches in for the storm of temper and bulwark. Each I speak of naught for turn of fortune is for one to resolve (she touts the Golden Stave). A lament on a basis to which no lives' have dragon for my soul and the gold which I seek not nither or nye but in severed tones to the justice I speak. Hear me this..
And a world/ and a lot of confused self folly. This is not the Lord.. These are not my reflections..
Aluft cloud or mezzanine protections and wrong impressions.
What chain of holy command can virtue make if the gift you hold was never yours to take.
It was not taken foolish old Priest. It was found as if by prophecy that I find the wellness of such pious virtues endured by the plethora's gauntlet for riches in Heavenly retributions, a constant hierarchy contrite yet arbitrary of obfuscation enough for my own liberation.
Your epicurean delight now fiddler to tunes of which the canon shouldn't find disingenuous reprieve to be certain..
But tis mine.. .. Flying monkeys/ fangs and claws. Though driven as prayer invocation the involuntary inveterate invertebrate doesn't stay for boundaries moxie shall soon be broken..
In arbitration the rapid deteriorations invective hastens a new anticipation of vile amelioration for disclaimed lay you/ lugubrious maiden.
Slayer slayer mox of nether! Light nor lotus prayer! Deliverance from which I ran. What soul pientous aster fiends by world and legend n tales run ragged as all else falls by the wayside. To what lays in my pretentious individuals land as my true own disquisition thus began!!

Its difficult to find a place that the force
of twilight agrees with the body...

or did per chance his-
'esquire' not notice rot
within and the spells begin

Not myself... been wondering and solutions bought
And yellow fluids forming my thoughts

Was such so abusive as not worth the
sum of two dragons
then nither?!

Challenges, seeing double oneself in darker efforts,
reflected images, a denial... cloaked in order
yet not enough strength to choose either...

Simply that one day chains of expectations
Desire, answers,- states inside a mind flaccid

Receive promises from ***** tongue tied lies
based on snorted nuances
Held down by the resemblances
to dead that made to serve
continue belayed by the joke
of life of yourself as days movements emerge

I shall not disrespect effort then, it can be
so psychotically leading
From stances of body to mind, then property,
to rails off, to the violating

Fanned out fingers of death and motion
Forward emotions hubris that stings
All for a view of the sky speeding
Its magnetic cleaving
A gestalt across pinnacle lands peaceful and diligent
For the spectacle of its brilliance as it began