the movers the shakers
the doers the bakers
the candle stick
and rocket ship makers

a race of captains
setting course
on circles of pyres
bereft of remorse

parsing madness with words
in reasons on reasons
giving life meaning
against inner treasons

founded on tissue thin
mental accumulations
biases and ticks
and vague assimilations

with subconscious shadows
over Palimpsest traces
we are convinced
we know our places

building the self
on struggling riffs
captains of the dual
navigating ships

occupying armies
assassins lens
horrible secrets
terrible rends

are we not in control
making choices
weighing and calibrating
hearing whos voices

thinking there our own
between good and bad
but outcomes are crazy
dragging mad

do we choose thoughts
from shrunken forms
from rotten gods
in darkest storms

or perhaps possessed
by invisible believers
pulp hearted  creatures
pulling our leavers

that possess our soul
choose for you
what you think
and what you do

emanations from spheres
through our core to our brain
ephemeral forces
a patinaed, puce stained

skyway of cruelty
kamikazes dread goon
gods crossing each other
poxed ash moon

can we stop reflexing
with brazen compulsions
can we stop lying
with wrenched emotions

can we defy the elements
make someone care
transcend all that harms
and bring love to bare

can we shed
all we know
choose to move on
and choose to let go

are we trapped
in space and time
will we not struggle
Sisyphean blind

or are we mere avatars
in a game from x box
acting out our program
like a hunted down fox

we have five senses
to get through the day
with infinitely more
we could smooth out our way

brains like thumb stumps
form violence and hell
hooves of dragons
we buy and sell

what is a puppet
it moves as its pulled
by forces beyond it
is that why we are fooled

are we deluded
that we are the doer's
could we be puppet souls
of gods that are losers

Everyday she fell asleep
to the astonishing silence
That shut the brightness of her soul,
To an extent
Where she heard the silent screams,
Of her throbbing heart.


As each day passed, it got worse.
The faint murmurs turned into roars,
Echoing through the empty hallways
Where you would find lonely shadows
Desperate for any hope that screamed, "adaptation".


And by every push, there would come laughter,
Reflexing away everything that mattered.
The venue of her soul now became a place she feared, to the practice of anticipation.


The profanities that came closer to the heartbreaking truth, punished her.


Although the only thing that made her smile was the pain, in itself.

In this hand I hold a gun
In the other hold my brain
Now I'm about to go ******* insane
As I drown in a reflexing pool only to come out the ******* same
Only difference is I'm in a new world where I'm considered an outcast
All because I chose my brain over a gun
Because I rather give a life then take it
Yes, apparently now I'm a lame
This truly is a new age
One where a baby knows the scent of **** before he can speak his own momma's name
It's a wonder how anybody can be sane
Because how can anyone stay sane with that knocking sound in their brain
Yelling at them constantly this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong over and over and over again
So now I'm picking up the gun
Looking at the engravings oh look that's my name
This bullet is for me so watch me blow out my brains
I'm sorry I couldn't do it, the ******* overcame
Haha...It truly is resilient, the true master of this game
I guess this is the story of all the brains