To hang with my crew, any day of the week, would leave 21yr old me, in the bathroom on his knees.
Wether we chill in the lot with a Rapper blowing trees, or moonlight the bar with lap dances and whiskey.

5am, 'In The Air', single mom feeling naughty
Next thing I knew, was at the afterparty.
Hooked up till dawn, but cant tell nobody.
Haven't shaved in a week, cant remember last sleep.
Ask me where I was and you'll never hear a peep.

Head home for an hour, change of clothes and a shower
Then back to work, cause the wicked get no rest
My tire explodes, Im on the side of the road,
and Im dressed to be sat at a desk.
Catch my breath screaming '****!', **** near hit by a truck,
as now rain pours down in my face.

Tore my shirt and late for work, *******! do I hate this place.
Now the hours feel like years, till I again have some beers and get back to where I feel like me.

6am in the bar, and just lit my cigar, and the bottle it seems is empty.
Lather, rinse and repeat, cause its only midweek
And this is how I know to mend.
What is my life? **** if I know, but a ShitShow you'd pay to attend.

see, atlas nearly dropped the world at the first sign of tremors
and gaia would've blown her top with wrath
and it nearly toppled sisyphus' boulder til it crushed him
but the 'nearly' doesn't matter 'cause the world's still in his grasp

and if paris picked selene, we might've had a heart-shaped moon
but we got the trojan shitshow, millions died
and we nearly went extinct just 'cause some ******* greek was *****
but the 'nearly' doesn't matter since we just about survived

[Fanfare, obviously]

This poem should begin with the call of a bugle,
as is fitting for an ode of Braveheart Macdougal.
Children of Parklands, take heed and be wary,
as I relate now, in verse, a tale cautionary.

Benigna Murdie was a most virtuous lass,
blesséd with promise and a penchant for sass.
To peer pressure she was admirably immune,
and ne'er did she bow to the temptation of goon.

Nary a drop of ***** has e'er passed her lips,
save for politeness and church-mandated sips.
Yet even the mightiest fall-- what a pity!
(harder than I did that night in the city).

So I hope you all glean a moral from this,
and your interpretation does not go too amiss.
But all is self-evident, to quote Descartes,
so allow me to recount this tale from the start.

She hails from a country renown for their piety,
for their pacifist ways and universal sobriety.
The Scottish are known throughout the land
for their temperance of character and lightness of hand.

And our poor Bennigles was no rule-exception,
she subscribed quite wholly to this perception.
A more reserved and reclusive girl you've not seen,
virtually a saint at only nineteen.

Passed out on the couch, liquor was never the root,
only strain from the studying and academic pursuit.
A paradigm of virtue, a pillar of purity,
no “that's-what-she-said's” to compromise maturity.

But that all changed one day touched by fate,
when Rachel realized that hedonism's great.
She took to the streets to revel in her glee,
and legit nothing bad happened cause this isn't tv.

Alas, now I'm drunk and the screen is a-shaking,
perhaps of wine I should halt my partaking.
I cannot continue with this facetious ode,
as we all well know that this is a total load.

But I'll miss you, my Brit, and our shitshow nights,
our Australian exploits and your culinary delights.
Sorry I couldn't finish to detail your demise,
but perhaps I'll conclude after an Australia-reprise.

Seventeen and burning down
I am a machine gun mouth,
A stomach without a heart,
Red dahlias growing with the weeds in your backyard,
I am a stick of dynamite
waiting for an excuse.
...
You are bored enough to hand me a match.

(I was always your favourite kind of shitshow)

Let Christ give his final sacrament to us through the holy Eucharist of his jizzum.
He shall raise the skirts of all boys and decimate the trousers of all who fear him.
I was a kid once and i know this.
Don't worry he ***** me too.
Feels good if you know him in the flesh in fruity underwear tighty see throughs.

Death plague.
He brings to us.
Through the work of his *****,
Whacking off each head to ***.

Come one come all,
to the shitshow circus called religion,
**** morals owned by slavery and god,
All fallacy is see through like his ******* nightgown

God is the **** of *******,
Get a ******* from your violence absolvance.
**** one another destroy.
Empathy is for *******.

God is dead.
Shot with led, fed to the Nazis, in their death holes for the unclean,
God is a ***.
The **** of earth isn’t me or you
It's the constructs of dogma,
That they abused us with as children.

Come on now we all aren’t bad guys.
It's the ***** in power.

****, ****,
Follow, follow,
into a pit like the communist.

I had *** with Stalin and created democracy.
Chairmen Mao is necrophagist.
****** was was the savior of the Semites.
The Popes are the largest mass murderers in history.

Bare naked ladies and Lenin following an age of Aquarius idiosyncrasy

shitshow

I don't want to know no white album

I'm working my way towards the black album

Cause Alicia Keys can resonate in many keys ...

... Says Dylan in his Chonicles

--> my authenticity lies in the between

620 nm or is it 770 nm

Whatever,  it's a sliding scale, a slippery *****, is what I use to shed my skin

Follow the pheromones, or the Ramones, says Bono and the Edge

The smell of you is on my sheets
There’s ***** on the wall
Three empty bottles near my feet
I think I drank them all
Awoke to find you here
Though I truly can’t recall
The night before unclear
Did we **** or have a brawl?
Please wake up and leave
I’ll walk you down the hall
Feel like I’m going to heave
And you’ll probably never call.

TLDR

Posted up on a bar stool, I noticed the instant he walked in.
Blue eyes beckoning. I was listening. Hard.

Liquidly courageous, delightfully obscure and entertaining,
I bewitched him in conversation.
Filled his empty pint with my pitcher of Yuengling.
Stealing and donning his sweaty hat.
He had just finished art school.
I was studying journalism.

He kept finding reasons to touch me.
Blocking me from human traffic.
Keeping me close and safe physically.
At one point, some drunken, oblivious, d-bag tried to holler.
He moved between, cockblocking.
Unwavering in eye contact and speech with me.
I can’t remember what we talked about, only how it felt.

He got my number, and we stayed until the bar closed.
And as all the carbon contents poured into the back alley,
he grabbed my hand.
I remember the sweat and energy on his slender fingers.
He was pushing past palpable trepidation.
And in the midst of a hundred swarming,
he yanked my hand toward him and kissed me.
People started cheering.
It was perfect.

Except, I freaked.
Froze. Stopped breathing.
Pulled away as far as his hand would allow.
He reeled me back in for another try.
When I brushed his lips, the panic devoured.
So I pulled away harder, breaking free from his fingers.
Fleeing, scurrying through a sea of drunken bodies.
I shimmied like a silver lure dangling in his face.
Then shot him the-****-down. Twice.
Instinctively.

He never called me. But pocket-dialed me the next day.
Left an unintended voicemail. Heard him bemoaning, *I felt SO stupid…
Called him back a few minutes later. Didn’t leave a message.
I could have called again. I didn’t. Ever.

I thought about him every day for months,
inspiring one of my better poems of that era:
A Roller Coaster Ride Ending in Derailment.
Years later, I friended him on MySpace, sent a generic message.
He didn’t recognize me. And I never said anything.
Like a ******* coward.

How is it possible to excitedly charge in a cardinal direction,
only to smack abruptly into:
I-gotta-get-the-****-outta-here-NOWWWW?!

I’ve had a little time, say 14 years,
to reflect on what made me me run,
and I think it was this:
as soon as he was facing me,
with unadulterated adoration,
all I could feel was terrified and ugly.
It was so good. Far too good for me.

I was afraid. Afraid he would eventually see.
That I was hideous. He wouldn’t want the real me.
I didn’t think I could live up to the look in his eyes.
When he saw I was only a spunky, confident model on the cover,
and an insecure shitshow amidst contents inside, he would leave.
A fragile little girl so afraid she is unlovable, unworthy, ugly.
When he saw how uncomfortable I could be in my own skin,
he would let go.
I didn’t like me, so why the **** should he?
I ran from connection that night, after tilling it for hours.
Hauling *** with windows down,
I slammed the brakes and careened. End scene.
He reeked of bliss and impending heartbreak.
So I abandoned him before he could leave.

I’m frightened of anyone who truly stirs me.
It makes me feel big, scary feelings. They straitjacket hug me.
Skewing all my outward signals. I come off standoffish.
Pushing away the very thing I want and need.
I’m not good at expressing intense feelings in real time.
Except in ink. And bed.

I get locked up inside. Feels like I’m gonna die.
A fight-or-flight ignition by erroneous head triggers.
I project my unlovable feelings onto others,
in the face of blatant evidence to the contrary.

I’ve done LTRs, just not with the required equipment.
I know the gears are sabotaged out the gate,
but I go for it anyway. It’s safe (or so it seems). And empty.
I crave intimacy, but I’m terrified of showing up entirely.
In front of someone with eyes that can see.
I quickly sense who is capable of meeting me,
and thoroughly **** it up for myself,
by not feeling free. Not authentic. Not open. Hiding.
Editing. Hot fish, cold fish. Rotating masks. Blockades. Running.
Constantly scanning the environment for signs of rejection,
that I’m not enough, indeed. To validate my own self-worthlessness.
I wanna be right.
I’ve only done long terms where I can remain alone, bored and/or dead.
No real intimacy. No full disclosure. No BAMF duo status.
No seeing to the back of each other’s skulls.
No blasting through the cosmos.

I freeze and evade in the face of what I crave.
Shunning delicious plates I’ve just ordered and ravenously drooled over.
I have more examples, but this is the most concise and blatant...

Except, this one time:

I told my gut to shut the **** up,
while I cosigned utter inner *******.
Denied the eyes of my own soul,
as it floated into my periphery.
It took all of my focus just to breathe.

He didn’t turn around,
just looked over his shoulder.
At me. Up, then down.
And drifted away.
Electrocuting my cosmic antennae.
Leaving me reeling. Still tingling.

I almost called your name,
but doubt surrounded fear mountain.
Plus, I thought I was jus straight trippin, err, trollin.
Going crazy. Weaving my own alteration atop reality.
Pretty pro @ that yuh know...

We push and pull and run and chase,
because it feels safer pursuing what’s out of reach.
Until it turns around.
Or looks over its shoulder...

With eyes that can see.

******* magical
despite psychopaths
running the shitshow
egoic stoic will unfold
as origami hearts turn
etheric tissue paper
interdimensional winged
aglow in palm

Today I began to hem,
rein in the threads that grow free
when left unstitched

I ticked a set of books
and, though I love my charges,
my heart hurt

My language is another,
my experience of this globe
unutterably different,
though geographically the same

And I want to help them play the game, I do,
but I don’t trust those
telling me how to

My instincts,
honed by humans I trust, unless
I’m lost in my own Truman Show,
show me the right way to go,
divergent  from this current shitshow

The pedagogy of care
is somewhere way, way
over there

composed entirely of
the simple seduction
of contradictions
i play a fine balancing game.

good vs. evil
happy vs. sad
fine vs. im fine
alive vs. dead
dad vs. mom
sassy vs. mom
sassy vs. the shitshow
sassy vs. hatred

spoiler alert
right wins.

I'm digging it real deep
Cutting it real close
I use all real names, nobody knows
But if they read all the things I wrote
They'd burn me at the stake
A shitshow earthquake
See, you think it's poetry
It is, for you and me
But they would just look and see
Their secrets and names
Splattered all over the page
Like blood from a gun shot at point blank range
And all the things they thought I didn't know
I never told, I wrote it out
Better to do it here than to open my mouth
Dressed to ****
I'm calling you out, look fast now
Noel and Sophie, my glass table girls
B and R and J and M
I'm sparing you, not like you did
Mommy and Daddy and the man down the street
I'm shouting through the glass!
Can you ******* hear me?!

yesterday, i choked up my heart and placed it in your hands. my whole self phased in and out of existence but you just kept talking. not a single look before putting it down, a used up, pulsing thing, on your bedside table: a glass of water, half-full; a statement earring without its pair.

i thought maybe you hadn’t noticed it. which is strange, naturally; mostly because i know i would have. i have never liked to be handed things and much less to be in control. and yet i write. what is poetry, if not the art of plucking on heartstrings? if not learning how to make souls sing? it’s power, too, a type of hunger as well as any other — albeit painted in gold. i will say this: a beast, touched by Midas, still has teeth.

but what’s really amazing about this is that tomorrow, tomorrow it will still be there — my heart — spilling blood and making a mess out of your hardwood floors. you’ll make a face when it gets your socks wet and I'll apologize, pale-faced and mortified, yes, but mostly out of habit. you’ll nod, and I'm thinking, really? a singular nod? that’s how this great crusade, this blundering shitshow of a circus act ends? i won’t say it, of course. and we’ll keep on walking around and dragging red everywhere with our elbows and our feet.

you’ll gather it on the tip of your fingers and doodle something on the wall. A heart. and it's nothing like the real thing but i'll still smile. It looks beautiful, darling. you’ll look away, then — how polite! — as i pick up the offending thing and force it back in between unyielding ribs. this is how it ends. this is when the curtains fall, the painter becomes the life model, the petals turn to dust. a secret message, written in the sand, is too forgotten by the wind.

Can't use these hands
Fingers aren't my own
Can't say what I mean.

Can't stand this life
This depression is all I own
I love what it's done to me.

Can't remember if it's real
The men that speak down to me
So **** in their long white gowns.

Can't cope with this no more
My world better ******* explode.
At least then I can watch the fireworks.

Life is good,
But the 3rd act is a shitshow.

I think the thing is,
that you don't understand
that my life is a shitshow
- nothing goes to plan.

Such tellings as are catalogued folk tales,
and sorted on similarities of plot or character,
from child holdings realized as old, stories, reready
common creatures come alive, the Bremen Band
led by a *******, is all I recall,

then this old cat that comes around
come to mind, ai winking
but as Al exists to recall it all,
"What's got in your way, old beard-cleaner?"
asked the donkey,
as a significant kind of character,
direct descendant from Balaam's, who was
predecessor to Francis the Mule, who was last
of the eloquent *****, less famous nowadays,

magic is not what it once once was, supposed,
posed superior to lesser knowings, proposed
to be the very instructions from the knowing
tree forest whose reach into the tombs,
breathes gaseous weforms from earth wombs,
once once
seppuku - no, Hopi navel of the world- aigotit
Sipapu - spirit forms become Katcina

we see and say so using idle words you own,
and we trust our assisting intelligences own
means of translating our merged minds own

original intention, was to be renowned, famed
for slaying dragons of any non Christian kind,
daemons and demons unionized, to assist
using the psychology of the guy on
Christian radio, Dr. Dobson, dare to discipline,

oh, there, thence rose daddy wounds, perhaps
five long generations deep, military minds run
down this branch of my family tree,
chthonically rooted back to Phrygia,
flip the dime, who holds both sides?
how were these magic dimes made so?
By cleansing the sillohuette of old John D.

"Buddy, can you spare a silver dime?"

When the March of Dimes began,
all dimes were silver dimes, all values
were redeemable in silver, but those days

and those ways, do not function efficiently,

ef-fort effi fine-ancially fiscal police rules,
fi- gimme a reason
hard currency, abused since ever was a magi
with a convincing story told invitingly,

come and see,

Let us order our days from today,
while it remains today, to and fro, let us go
upon the face of the world, the home of our we,

we, in spirit form, find ourselves in words and music,
mused first, of course, in sequence of humane events,

we agree to become, not feminized, but wise, using
Wisdom's feminine form from all ancestral knowings,

she seduces wise men ***** by glorious old boys,
whose only war was Kriegspiel - we all can be heros,

or so the hero makers say, follow us, learn to **** at will,
on demand, you know the drill, onward, Christian Soldiers,
into faith as strongly wrong as your own, sincerely

what sin, the idea first fit to a word, once made
sacred, original intention of the sound chata makes

means error, does not fit future need to know, do over,
glitch, try again, Cain, chata is always possible, hamartia
claim blame, fame and shame
aitia, we invent in mind games, as a she formed from Wisdom,
modeled by sheform statues
of Freedom in Phrygian caps,
on County seat town greens
all over preboomer America,
all meaning lost, until today.

Liberty nods.

I may have made a child that I never met,
and whether ever has a fee for that innocense,
I chose to think I don't believe I know, for sure.

Imagine that, in magical terms, in my bubble
being edge wise superior from every point,

never viewed from until the tech we have today,
left preceptual connections where disconnects,

are as commonly real as
back when Grace Murray Hopper
lived in the upper crustean realm
of education, time records a genius Sidis,
coabode on Earth with her and Bucky Fuller.
William James Sidis, self normalized,
to collected trolley passes,
and let the bosses be bosses,
and that is all,
we know we may yet
imagine the mind used to live true,
whose gaming mind may imagine,
the opportunity,
to visit each trolley ride, in this
version in Sidis's philological vendergood voice,

fourth dimensional assisting ***-umphed if I'da
known, focus on the navel, really, think it through,

we yawn, and wonder,
how long a tale is told, tells a lot about a tale's use.

We reckon, we re co know agnostically religamental
right usual working ways we try, you know

to spy an eye in time tuning spacy gazy lazy
let's see, when last we came upon an option

go, or stay, think it through, or edit the art part,
make it meet the American Rhetoric of 1968,

Cathy sent me letters from the convention,
she was still mourning Bobbie, I was in Long Binh,

being crazy enough to shoot, back home, here,
I was the guy burning actual ****, in the rear,
there then,
I could see the jail go up in smoke from here,
me and the Papasan's found it abnormally strange.

Recognizing a stoner survivor's version of riches
from the total shitshow through to this one today,

across all potential four dimensional codes,
we signal something sibilantly whispering, see.    

Well, imagine imaginary people,
beautiful mind alternative points
from which any fractal forms a whole

truth held self evidently, for show,
to prove, you know, you did go,
you did pay for going, your choice,

bet your life, at any pre myelinated
phase of cognitive natural fructifity,

presume resumption was begun
passively requiring secret rights,

the  hand shake, with out the thumb
nailed it, dead serious, sincerity
definitely now we both know this:
Sincerely
There has been a temptation
to see the first element
as Latin sine "without."
But there is no etymological justification
for the common story that the word means
"without wax" (*sine cera),
which is dismissed out of hand by OED,
Century Dictionary ("untenable"), and others,
and the stories invented to justify
that folk etymology are even less plausible.
Watkins has it as originally "of one growth"
(i.e. "not hybrid, unmixed"),
from PIE *sm-ke-ro-,
from *sem- "one" (see same) +
root of crescere "to grow"
(from PIE root *ker- (2) "to grow").
De Vaan finds plausible a source
in a lost adjective *caerus "whole, intact,"
from a PIE root meaning "whole."


----------------
Whole truth original intent…

Entertaining lost minds,
following trolley tickets

to find the genius in Sidis,
to retrace those long ago
trolley tracks, in old down
towns, not the status tracks

those were the tracks that ran
by the slaughter houses and
packing sheds, south of town,

out in the boondocks, swhat
some called wrong sides of towns,
uptown and downtown, one stop light
on the Mother Road to California,

there, is a sip-appertaining to news

adapted to, fret not, some fail now,
yet today remains today every where
at once, each time you pay mind, here

is where what we are come alive.
One reader makes it work,
a we thought flies free.

We laugh, or we worry.

All the players in the Bremen Band
were old when the opportunity arose.

Infernal Phantasmagoria

CowID's mad laboratory —
A global ****** ward.
How came this grim phantasmagory?
A fool adored — how odd.

For what was he then branded,
And dosed with toxic brew?
Have fascist freaks just landed,
To spit on all that's true?

The laws of all creation —
They will repay the toll
For torture, war, damnation,
And every twisted role.

These wars are all invented.
The end for them is near.
Those not with Spirit — ended.
Decay is drawing near.

The stench of walking corpses —
Their numbers flood the land.
Since man obeys dark forces,
Then Evil takes command.

But only minds still thinking
Can feel the hangover's weight.
The fiends rejoice, then — sinking
Into their final fate.

Today their end is starting.
So crush them, strike with might!
Let not your soul be parting —
Stand up and start the fight.

These wars are hybrid, silent,
Where words alone can slay.
So be direct — defiant —
And drive all lies away.

Their filth infects the nations,
Their blood now flows like rain.
Their propaganda-stations
Speak poison, death, and pain.

They drink that blood, deranged —
These ghouls will rot and die.
Just never bow, unchanged —
And never live a lie.

For lies — the real transgression,
Much worse than ******’s rot.
Corrupting mind’s possession,
Where reason fights and’s shot.

One lie — and you’re forsaken,
If spoken where it counts.
Don’t kneel, though worn and shaken —
Strike back with full amounts.

Don’t bow down to the madness —
Seek wiser paths instead.
New arts of war bring gladness —
Revive them — forge ahead.

Your foe is cold, inhuman,
Deceit their sweet disguise.
They hug you soft and looming —
Then stab you with surprise.

Go inward — seek your reason —
No outer guide will do.
Their counsel breeds more treason,
And blinds the path for you.

Their "truths" are baited offers,
Each clown declares, "I'm God!"
The Devil’s net still proffers
Each self-enslaved façade.

Believe in what you must —
But never dare to lie.
Be silent if you must —
But let no truth go dry.

For lies in things of essence —
I’ll shout this truth again —
Are crimes, vile, effervescent,
That ring through hearts of men.

Like false bells in a chapel,
Distracting souls from grace,
This circus of dumb rabble
Crowns lice to lead the race.

Each maggot plays "the teacher" —
This idiot in command —
And if you let him reach you,
You’ll serve his twisted brand.

In lies, small sparks of meaning
Are drowned — that’s Satan’s trick:
A sea of crap, careening —
So thick it makes you sick.

They triple lies to drown you,
Then drown it more in ****.
Few minds remain unclouded
In madhouse counterfeit.

The rule of mass infection:
"Big numbers must be right!"
Thus fools crush introspection —
The brave crushed out of sight.

So speak with minds that matter,
And leave the mad behind.
Let fools go burn and scatter —
Their fate’s already signed.

Fascism made it clear now
What kind of world we face.
The lash of lies grows near now —
A tidal wave, no grace.

But even that won't alter
The truth: if you submit,
You’re gone. No hope, no shelter —
Starvation will soon hit.

They'll swallow what they're given,
These meatbags, pre-designed.
One meme — and they are driven…
The script’s already lined.

Their lines, their fake crusaders,
All spawn of soulless breeds —
Their lies will **** the nations
And feed the goats like weeds.

That’s how their rule is forming —
But here’s the wicked twist:
They fear the storms a-swarming —
Their time is nearly missed.

The Earth shall soon erupting
Erase this madhouse scene.
Their terror is corrupting —
Their filth grows more obscene.

They shat themselves from fearing
The end that draws too near.
Now just a step’s appearing —
Beyond that edge — it's clear.

Beyond it — resurrection
Of worthy souls, not swine.
Corruption meets correction —
The filth will burn in time.

Our Sun — with sacred power —
Will cleanse this vile parade.
Just glance out at this hour —
The signs are all displayed.

The children’s art has shown it —
A century ago —
Their yellow suns still glow in’t —
Now white — and set to glow.

That burn will scorch all evil —
No trace shall still remain.
No devil, beast or weasel
Survives the final flame.

And life will live in Spirit —
I'll say it one more time.
The blind won't ever hear it —
But fury still is mine.

And so this poem’s ending —
My second one today.
New themes I keep defending,
Till this one fades away.

Well then, I place the period.
Dear reader — march ahead!
Delay is Hell’s preferred god —
And fools will soon be dead.

This path from Hell is brutal —
Not many will survive.
But once you cross that portal —
You’ll feel, you are alive.

The memory of Hell, though,
Still poisons many hearts.
But lice won’t understand so —
They’re less than lesser parts.

So fight with Light your beacon —
Let it direct your path.
And if advice has weakened —
Recall the righteous wrath.

Just test it all through Spirit.
You will not go astray.
That Light? Once you are near it —
No flies will stain the day.

Spirit. Light. Intuition.
That’s all you'll ever need.
Tradition? False sedition.
Go on in Light — Godspeed.



---------------------



Infernal Phantasmagoria

In a global madhouse, lies fuel fascist roars—
Stand steadfast in Spirit; deceit shapes wars.
One truth, once shattered, dusts the ****** to flame—
Only Light endures; intuition stakes its claim.



---------------------



Ignorance

"The more you know — the deeper your ignorance."
— A saying from Buddhism


Wild ignorance — a polished shell,
While fake science rings its knell.
Legacy of poisoned lore
Turns the mind to rotting core.

But wait — the brain is just a tool,
Not the source! We've played the fool.
"Knowledge" floods — and in that tide,
Truth and Spirit both have died.

What remains? A crippled mind,
Logic blind, and soul confined.
Modern schooling’s sacred goal —
Train the servant. **** the soul.

Devil’s own design, it seems —
Darkness coded into streams.
Through the programs, thought’s eclipse —
Lies pour from obedient lips.

Snakes have sold us sterilized
Pseudoscience, sanitized.
We call that "knowledge" — what a joke!
The mind’s on fire. The soul? It chokes.

Memory — they overload.
That’s how talents are destroyed.
Those in charge — they know, they plot.
Every byte a poison shot.

And the herd still can’t perceive
What these mind-tools now achieve.
"More is more"? The fatal flaw —
Slaughterhouse in name of "law."

Simple truths can still be known —
If the soul is clean, alone.
But one lie, in matters grand,
Spills the blood on every land.

There begins the genocide,
When intuition’s pushed aside.
So reclaim it. Make it creed.
If you're brave — then yes, you'll read

Through illusion’s murky breath,
Past the silence reeked of death.
Don’t engage the liar’s bait —
It will only cultivate

The cunning mask of devil’s wit
Where no truth or light can fit.
Hell prepares another phase:
"Knowledge" now — the plague they praise.

Want more "knowledge"? Here's your prize —
More deceit in noble guise.
Spirit bruised, and mind grown cold —
Ignorance in data sold.



---------------------



"The more you know," — they said. A lie.
You trade your soul to feed your "I".
Their "truth" is poison, wrapped in gloss —
The more you learn — the more you're lost.



---------------------



Congrats, you're “educated”! Cheers!
Enjoy your cage of polished fears.
You've mastered crap in high disguise —
Now drown in facts and die in lies.



---------------------



The Grand Academy of Dung
Awarded you a gold-plated tongue.
You speak in charts and graphs and spells —
But sniff — it reeks. You’ve earned the bells.

A Doctor of Deeper Delusion!
You majored in Thought-Prostitution.
Your thesis: “Why Truth Is Offense” —
Applause! And back to the trench of pretense.



---------------------



Requiem for the Empire of Knowledge

They built a throne on rotten codes,
Enshrined their lies in learning’s robes.
Each "fact" — a fang. Each "proof" — a chain.
Their books exude the stench of brain.

They crowned the Mind, enslaved the Soul,
Preached death as "life", and rot as "whole".
Their logic — limp. Their science — blind.
Their schools — the slaughterhouse of Mind.

Professors chant like priests of rust,
While hearts collapse in ash and dust.
Acolytes of sterile thought
Bled the world for what? For what?

A thousand PhDs in hell
Now teach the art of how to fell
The Spirit with a spreadsheet lie —
"Enlightenment!" — they shriek, then die.

And still the towers hum and gleam,
While Truth is burned for one more scheme.
So let it fall — this hollow shrine.
Its God is dead. Its blood is mine.



---------------------



Thrones of lies and rotting scrolls —
They sold their minds, but lost their souls.
"Enlightenment" — a bleeding lie,
Watch their hollow empire die.



---------------------



Lies crowned fools, souls sold to dust —
Fight the false, betray the trust!



---------------------



The Art of Collar-Making

A slave’s collar —
A madness shield for the mind,
The crowd devours
All “smart books” they find.

They read laws,
Freedom, progress — a mess.
But here’s a den of evil,
And lies press and press.

Idiots scream loud,
Like fools possessed.
Lock ’em up with thugs —
Let poison be their guest.

Almost all makes sense,
Yet the core’s a fake.
Truth’s replaced
By cynical stake.

Surrogates fill the void,
The world’s a sham!
Slaves always welcome
Any excuse, ****.

It plays out in moves,
Three steps ahead.
Call out the lie —
You’ll be marked dead.

Lies so habitual,
Death’s dressed as truth.
Fools hysteric chant,
“I’m no stench to soothe.”

“Constitution!” they cry,
“Progress and such!”
But mind’s prostituted,
Souls lost as much.

Around lie corpses,
Dead but “with God” bound,
Slave to lies,
Chains tight and sound.

They’re Satan’s own,
Yet deny the fact.
They lie to themselves —
Fury intact.

They hate not slavery,
But those who see it clear —
The masters of the leash
Their real fear.

All minds enslaved,
The art of the collar —
Rudeness, shame,
A crooked scholar.

Masters abundant,
A pond full of snakes...
This foul breed’s old —
Forever self-fakes.

Teaching kids to lie,
Destroying true souls,
Killing real people
To fit their roles.

Break this cursed cycle —
Smash lies everywhere,
So Reason won’t wither —
Like a collar to wear.



---------------------



Slave Collar

Slave collar’s made of lies —
Mind’s plague, truth’s demise.
Books of fools, chains tight,
Freedom’s just a sick joke’s bite.

Hate those who see the leash,
Masters love the false peace.
Break the cycle, shatter lies,
Or Reason dies — and Freedom dies.



---------------------



Slave Collar’s Scorn

Slave collar chokes your mind —
Fools worship chains they find.
Books lie, laws betray,
Freedom’s just a rotten play.

Hate the ones who see the trap,
Masters feed the coward’s crap.
Break the curse — tear down the lie,
Or watch your soul rot and die.



---------------------



The Spiritual Path

Birth is no beginning —
Death is not the end.
Time and space are thinning —
Truth must now descend.

Forget the priests and science shows —
Their teachings rot like moldy bread.
The heart, not mind, is what one knows.
And mind must serve the soul instead.

When lies arise — expose, deny.
Don't let their dogmas shape your breath.
This world was rigged. Its god? A lie.
The “scholar” feeds you sleep and death.

The sacred Spark — they're bleeding dry,
Replacing Light with myth and blood.
They serve the Beast, and smirk, and lie,
And flood the world with soulless mud.

Your Spirit lives beyond all time —
No cause, no space, no birth, no end.
The cosmos rots beneath the grime
Of fools who claim that Void’s a trend.

Expand your sight beyond the frame —
Not logic's net, but inner flame.
To trap the Infinite with brain
Is catching wind — or worse, a name.

Let logic serve — but not command.
Let intuition steer your course.
Say “NO!” to all that filth and brand,
Then dive within — the sacred source.

Go deep — alone, in silent fire,
And Truth will whisper from the still.
The path is steep, the stakes are dire —
One slip, and Fear becomes your will.

They sell you “salvation” packs —
Each social fraud, a cancer new.
Ideas? Burn them to the wax.
They serve the Beast, and lie as true.

Theories stink — a mental mold
To cage your soul and dim the skies.
Infinity cannot be told
By ants who stare with starless eyes.

This path is hard — but it’s the way.
All else is fall, decay, and doom.
Reject this world’s grotesque display,
Its circus masks, its poisoned bloom.

Only through Spirit’s rise you'll see
The nature of death, life, and space.
Else you remain a wretched flea —
A fool who walks to Hell's embrace.



---------------------



They bleed your soul, then sell you lies —
The path is Spirit, not disguise.
Burn all their dogmas, **** the fake —
Or walk to Hell for comfort’s sake.



---------------------



Self-Knowledge

"Light" and DARK will make you snap
If you never sort it out.
Every clown with truth on tap
Spews his filth to gain some clout.

Blind belief’s a deadly sin —
Turn your insight full awake!
That's the way to win within,
Not to chase the Dark’s sweet fake.

Darkness first, and then comes Light —
Only minds that purge the grime
Can receive that inner sight.
But the world’s a madhouse slime.

So the Mind must be made clean —
That’s the key. Don’t drift or doze.
In the chaos in between,
Catch the sparks the Spirit throws.

Light’s inside — not on display,
What you see’s just faint reflection.
Dawn won’t come the outer way —
Beasts drown all in their infection.

War and CowID made it plain:
We have sunk in purest rot.
Everything else is sugar rain —
Empty noise and evil plot.

True insight speaks without a word —
That’s the yogi’s final stance.
Spare yourself the braying herd,
And their mind-killing expanse.

Theories rot — they sell your soul.
Satan pays them, clear as day.
Final lie to take control,
Then drag everyone that way.

Tear through one more bottom layer,
Break it down and sink us all —
Words hold power, so beware:
This is war, not some close call.

What’s beyond all words and lies
Stands where evil holds no chain.
There, the Soul learns how to rise —
Not through goats, but through the Flame.



---------------------



Goat-Words ****

Their words are chains. Their truths are fake.
Go past them — or you're meat for Snake.



---------------------



No Prospects Left

Time has proved — there’s no way out.
Masses ruled by lies and doubt,
Since their birth they're fed with crap —
Tools of beasts to set the trap.

Mindless weight, a slow decay —
Darkness pushed into the clay.
Beasts install their coded curse,
Turning truth to smoke — or worse.

Rare the minds that see through fog,
Few remain with soul and spark.
This is Hell, not some mirage —
CowID showed it — truth discharged.

Crawled in holes, they hoard their shame,
Silence swallowed every name.
Till they’re dragged to camps by force —
Night shall gallop with no horse.

And what waits at "break of day"?
Gunshots. Lies. Obey or pay.
Truth is whipped out of the sky —
Tyrants smile, and preachers lie.

Now they build their brave new road,
Fleeced by fear, the herd is towed.
But the Plan — surprise! — misfired:
Nature's wrath cannot be wired.

Storms shall break their plastic schemes,
End the filth of broken dreams.
But if you just nod and bow,
Your own soul is lost — right now.

Only those who fight this ****,
Face the beasts and will not run,
Shall preserve the light above —
Fierce rebellion is true love.



---------------------



No God for the tamed —
Only hell for the blind.
If you kneel to the Beast,
You betray your own mind.



---------------------



Kneel to the Beast —
And your soul is deceased.



---------------------



Divisions and False Identities

First they split you by your ego,
Then divide by *** and skin,
Add a nation’s fake “protego” —
Now the war machine can spin.

Break the soul into a segment,
Drag each piece toward its cage —
How? It’s easy: lie incessant.
Lies ignite the herds to rage.

Split them further — atomize!
Rule them through this mad decay.
Keep the Spirit from the skies,
Block the path, then lead astray.

Beasts in suits have known the method —
Long ago they cracked this code:
“Man is cattle, dumb and breathless,
Easy prey for our dark load.”

Ego’s forged through years of grooming,
*** declared as “core of self.”
Cries of fate and ancient dooming —
“Blame your homeland’s brutal wealth!”

Now your “tribe” calls out for duty,
Join the mass of marching tools.
What divides us isn't beauty —
Just the chains and laws of fools.

Flee from ego, ***, and borders!
Go within — the path is clear.
Dodge the traps and false disorders,
Find the Spirit shining near.

You're a soul — a truth eternal.
All else: nonsense, fear, and lies.
Chains of “daily life” diurnal
Keep the flocks in small disguise.

False identities enslave you,
Like a chain around the mind.
Thus the Light begins to leave you,
And the eyes of thought go blind.

There’s a blind spot in your psyche —
It’s the ***, the ego-bluff.
Time to cut this garbage lightly:
Spirit’s genderless — and tough.

Reason rises far above it,
Nations? ******* for the tame.
Only when the Soul moves of it
Will you break this twisted game.

Cast off all the chains that bind you
With Awareness sharp and raw.
Books won't save — they will blind you.
If you trust them — fool by law!

So ignite your intuition,
Sharpen thought and inner fire.
Make the war on lies tradition —
Else the flames will take you higher...

…but not where Spirit flies —
To the dungeons where truth dies.



---------------------



Burn the Labels, Break the Chain —
Only Spirit shall remain.



---------------------



Ego. ***. The Nation’s Lie —
**** them all, or Spirit dies.



---------------------



The Mouseborn Farce

A mountain gave birth — to a mouse.
That sums up man: a spineless louse.
Though calm seems etched upon the land,
It’s just a mask, a slight of hand.

“He’s wise! He’s strong!” — repeat the lie,
And feed him pride until he’s blind.
Doubt? Replace it with a sigh
And worship madness of the mind.

**** off the Spirit — use “belief.”
And for the mind? Call “Science” chief.
Just feed them lies, in layers thick,
And mock it all — that does the trick.

To mock all layers of this rot,
This false world — that’s the TVAR’s plot.
No peace, just poison in disguise.
This world? A graveyard wrapped in lies.

Creator fled — and beasts arrived,
With Satan’s glee, well-armed, alive.
They lie and rule through fear alone —
One shiver, and the lie has grown.

To mock, degrade — that's all they seek:
To gut the Spirit, break the weak.
Then, while you laugh or clutch your pride,
They slip the rot in from inside.

Success? Oh yes — their poison spread.
The slave is dumb. The dream is dead.
Two-thirds are fools, the rest asleep,
And buried deep in ******* heap.

The mountain labored. Birth was due…
A mouse. A mutant — that is you.
You “fit right in”? You’re half-dead meat.
Still think this life’s some kind of feat?

This “life” — a hellish rodent show.
Drop it. Save your Soul — and go.
All else is trash. So why delay?
Go in. Find Truth. Or rot in grey.



---------------------



Mouseborn ****

The mountain birthed a worthless mouse —
A spineless, dumb, degraded louse.
You sleep? You’re part of this disease,
Or just another mutant, please.

This life’s a rodent circus hell —
Drop it now or rot in shell.
Find your Soul or drown in lies —
Or fall with all the rodent flies.



---------------------



Female Psychology

Hormones rage, thoughts drip-drop—
Rush to nests where lies don’t stop.
Weak folk trapped in falsity’s hold,
No escape — the ****’s in control.

So children come, the dull man’s plight,
***’s joy fades into inner fight.
They train for patience, save the nest,
Though bent in hell, they give their best.

Brains pierced through with fear and lies,
Kids rot fast where darkness lies.
Fascism marches, world-wide crawl—
But **** just sees some petty thrall.

Hormones blaze, spirit drowned—
Idiots cheer as end’s profound.
Forward now, you clueless drones!
Let’s bring the End on tyrant thrones.

A hateful tale of genocide,
Join the ranks, or be denied.
Those who dare will soon be crushed,
In fascist ranks, the nest holds hush.

Winners keep their nests awhile,
Thinkers face the fatal trial—
Death’s decree, no chance to fight,
Beneath the ****’s blind, brutal might.



---------------------



Female Psychology

Hormones storm, the mind’s a flood,
Nest of lies, all drenched in mud.
Weak souls trapped, no way to flee—
****’s in charge, no liberty.

Kids born dumb, dull husband’s pain,
***’s joy turns bitter bane.
Brains drilled deep with fear and hate,
Fascism’s here—too late, too late.

Morons cheer, the end is near,
Truth is crushed by hormone fear.
Fight or fall, the spirit’s lost—
In ****’s cold grip, we pay the cost.



---------------------



Convinced — Yet Conquered

Convinced — yet conquered — words akin,
From Latin roots, sharp, clear, and thin:
To force the winner’s strict command,
The convinced must obey his hand.

The meaning gap is small indeed,
While total lies like vipers breed.
Multiply the lies in time,
Make them bolder, foul, and prime,

More vile, more fierce than bombs or tanks—
Those lies will own your soul’s own ranks.
So comrades here are multiplied,
And minds by fascism are tied.

A doc once turned vet, with poison sly,
Injects the herd, no battle cry.
No armored threat, no tanks attack,
Just hybrid lies in TNT’s track.

The traitors rise in endless throng,
A sight abhorrent, sick, and wrong.
No longer human — ****’s their role,
Almost all of them, a cursed soul.

Gullible fools make up the mass,
The majority in this morass.
And now the end, inglorious, near,
Yet truth, and honor, will appear.

They’ll burn the madhouse down to ash,
Where empty words like serpents lash,
Destroy the hellish chatterbox—
That’s certain, though I won’t coax.

Though poems wield their spirit’s spark,
Not evil’s tools, but light in dark.
And for those lying, sold-out dogs,
Annihilation in the fog—

For treason of the sacred base,
And stagnation’s cursed embrace—
The world is stuck ‘cause goats run wild,
But spirit’s truth will be reviled.



---------------------



Convinced means conquered — same **** chain,
Forced to follow, bound in pain.
Lies more deadly than bombs or war,
Own your mind, but fight once more!

**** and traitors rule the land,
Fools and goats obey their hand.
Truth will burn their hellish den —
Freedom’s spirit fights again!



---------------------



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

A new reality —
A “new normality.”
The madhouse winds
Blow on endlessly —

Like a nightmare story:
Things get worse and worse.
Expose the foolish glory —
The nonsense, and the curse.

They showed it all
In CowID times —
More nonsense spreads,
And fear climbs.

The vilest trash
Feeds on that fear.
Souls get crushed,
The pain is near —

A thorn in memory,
That never heals.
The main threats are —
The clown and the “heals.”

The clown brings fear,
The “doctor” fans the lies.
Like a cursed spell
On a mad world’s cries.

“No!” it can’t say
To rotten lies so vile.
The clown sums it up —
The sentence: decay and bile:

“Believe and obey!”
Worse than any doom!
Cling to lies —
You’ve grown used to the gloom —

And the clown-politician
Will herd you like cattle.
Frighten once more,
Then send you to battle...



---------------------



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

New reality —
A twisted “normal.”
Madhouse winds blow
Like a brutal storm.

Like a nightmare’s grip,
It only gets worse.
Expose the dumb lies —
Their curse, their curse!

Shown in CowID’s time,
The madness spreads fast.
More ******* fuels fear,
And fear holds us fast.

The vilest filth
Feeds on dread and hate.
Souls crushed,
Left broken, left to break.

A thorn in memory,
Forever it stings.
Main threats loom —
The clown and his “wings.”

The clown breeds fear,
The “doc” pumps the lies.
World cursed and chained,
Under wicked skies.

“No” can’t be spoken
To lies that enslave.
The clown’s grim verdict —
Decay, rot, and grave:

“Believe. Obey.”
Worse than death’s sting.
Hold tight to lies —
The darkness they bring.

The clown-politician
Drives you to fold.
Frightens again —
Then tosses you cold.



---------------------



Terrible Tale of the Global Madhouse

New reality —
A ******-up “norm.”
Madhouse winds howl,
Spread brutal storm.

Like a nightmare's choke,
It only gets worse.
Expose the dumb lies —
Their ******* curse!

Shown through CowID’s ****,
Madness rips fast.
More ******* feeds fear,
Fear chains us fast.

Vile filth thrives
On hate and dread.
Souls crushed, broken —
Left cold and dead.

A thorn in the mind,
Forever it stings.
Main threats are clear —
The clown and his kings.

Clown breeds pure fear,
Doc pumps the lies.
World cursed, shackled,
Under black skies.

“No” is forbidden
To lies that enslave.
Clown’s verdict rings —
Rot, death, the grave.

“Believe. Obey.”
Worse than a knife.
Cling to their lies —
They **** your life.

Clown-politician
Drives you to fold.
Frightens then dumps you
Cold, dead and sold.



---------------------



A Little Case

Life’s a void, no cause, no aim,
When mind’s vast space is just a game —
Locked inside wild fantasies,
While others gnaw the soul with ease.

Through censorship, dulling, decay,
Honor, Spirit swept away
By propaganda, school, and lies —
Fortress built for tyrants’ rise.

If you seek the Higher Goal,
Among the crowds, you’ll find a soul —
A rare one in the herds that roam,
For now still fat, but doomed to groan.

Then came a trial, dark and cold —
CowID’s grip, the fear they sold.
A test that killed all reason’s spark,
Left minds dead, cold, and stark.

The percent thinking still is slight,
In this cruel twisted blight.
Evil seeps and drains to void,
Where nonsense rules, all hope destroyed.

No futures shine, just years of pain,
A storm ahead, no calm, no gain.

Yet here it creeps — a tiny chance:
A cataclysm’s brief advance.
To crush the lawless reign of fools,
The broken minds that break the rules.

Only Spirits will survive,
Those who graze and stay alive —
The rest will fall in Hell anew,
For patience lost and honor too.



---------------------



Fools of the Wheel

Boy, you point your finger high —
Priest says: “God is in the sky.”
Hold tight — a thousand lies you’ll meet,
This world’s a wretched, cruel deceit.

Only lies can hold the sway,
Keep “stability” at bay.
Such primitive falsehoods, oh my God —
Boy, learn to laugh, to mock the fraud.

Or else you’ll lose your mind too fast,
For madness here is made to last.
But here’s the catch — the bitter truth:
In this world, lies are “the proof.”

To be “normal” is the plague,
Few escape this maddened cage.
These “all” in decay’s cruel clutch —
Just squirrels on a spinning crutch.

Squirrels “sick” with addiction’s bite,
Forget the wheel in endless flight.
Torn apart, no chance to live —
The Wheel’s a trap no soul can give.

If you want life, seek your way
Outside this Fools’ Wheel’s cruel sway:
Only rot and nonsense dwell,
Though bodies thrive in its shell.

The Wheel of Samsara — shameful name,
Rotating with the Enemy’s game.
CowID showed the truth so clear —
This cursed Wheel spins hate and fear.

The Wheel has slipped — it falls to hell,
A cataclysmic, broken spell.
A world where Satan’s lessons spread —
To feast on neighbors, feast on dread.

Through Overton’s Windows came
Cannibals in hunger’s name.
Tons of lies decay the real —
Wheel, spin faster, break the seal!



---------------------



Fools of the **** Wheel

Boy, you point your finger high —
Priest lies: “God’s up in the sky.”
Brace yourself — a thousand cheats,
This world’s a filthy pack of beasts.

Only lies keep this hell intact,
“Stability” is just a pact
Of dumb deceit — oh, kid, learn to sneer,
Or madness soon will claim you here.

But here’s the catch, the ugly truth:
In this world, lies are the proof.
“Normal” means you’re just a slave,
Trapped and broken, no one saves.

These “all” are rotting, mindless mice,
Spinning wheels, addicted vice.
Squirrels on the ****** rat race wheel,
Chasing nothing but their own ordeal.

Addicted fools forget the pain,
Lost inside this mental chain.
Torn apart, no way to live —
The Wheel’s a trap that kills and kills.

Want to live? Then run away
From the fools who rot and prey.
Only filth and decay breed there,
Though bodies boast, the souls despair.

Samsara’s Wheel — a cursed shame,
Spun by foes who fuel the flame.
CowID proved the filthy deal —
This cursed Wheel runs on our heel.

The Wheel’s unhinged — it’s falling fast,
A cataclysm built to last.
A world where Satan’s school is law —
Feeding on neighbors, crushing all.

Through Overton’s Window’s crack
Cannibals come, preparing attack.
Mountains of lies poison the real —
Wheel, spin faster, break the seal!



---------------------



Fools of the **** Wheel

Boy, you poke the sky and pray —
Priest lies, “God rules far away.”
Brace yourself — a thousand cheats
Sickening this broken street.

Only lies keep this junk alive,
“Stability”? Just how they thrive
On dumb ******* — kid, laugh loud,
Or madness drags you in the crowd.

Here’s the punch — the ugly core:
This world’s rotten to the core.
“Normal” means you’re ****, a slave,
Rotten rat in gnawing grave.

These “all” are mindless vermin rats,
Running wheels, infected brats.
Squirrels spazzing on the cursed wheel,
Chasing shadows, stuck and sealed.

Addicts drowning in their ****,
Mind destroyed by counterfeit.
Torn apart, no chance to live —
Wheel’s a trap — your soul it’ll sieve.

Wanna live? Then cut and flee
From this cesspit misery.
Only rot and filthy flesh
Feed the worm in flesh’s mesh.

Samsara’s Wheel — pure ******* shame,
Spun by demons stoking flame.
CowID proved it all — the deal:
This cursed Wheel’s a beast you kneel.

Wheel’s unhinged — it’s crashing down,
Cataclysm to burn the town.
World ruled by Satan’s ****** school —
Cannibal chains, the fool’s cruel tool.

Through Overton’s windows creep
Cannibals in shadows deep.
Lies in tons, a toxic flood —
Spin that Wheel, destroy the mud!



---------------------



Fools of the Hellish Wheel

Boy, you point your finger skyward —
Priest lies: “God’s up high, you coward.”
Hold tight — thousands lies will swarm,
This pathetic world’s a toxic storm.

Only lies keep this wreck alive,
Fake “stability” to survive.
Such stupid ******* — kid, just laugh,
Or you’ll go mad, fall off the path.

Here’s the trap — world’s a sewer pit,
“Normal” means you’re just a ****.
These “all” are rats in rat’s decay,
Spinning wheels, doomed to decay.

Squirrels on ****, crazed and lost,
Addicted fools pay with their cost.
Torn to shreds, no chance to breathe —
This **** Wheel is death’s own wreath.

Want to live? Then break the chain
Of fools and liars’ endless pain.
Only filth and rotting skin,
Feeds the worm that lives within.

Samsara’s Wheel — shame’s cruel face,
Turned by demons, death’s embrace.
CowID’s proof — no lies to hide:
This cursed Wheel will grind your pride.

Wheel’s snapped loose — it’s crashing fast,
Cataclysm’s coming, world won’t last.
Ruled by Satan’s ****** hand,
Cannibal fools enslave the land.

Through Overton’s shifting veil,
Cannibals creep, hungry and pale.
Tons of lies, a toxic spill —
Spin the Wheel — destroy the ill!



---------------------



Simple Feelings of a Pitiful Hellish World

From childhood deep, you clearly feel:
Not right! Not fair! No worth, no zeal!
This world’s a pit of wretched slime —
A soul’s disgrace, a mind’s death-time.

But drown yourself in daily grind —
The Hell of survival’s cruel bind —
You’ll lose that simple truth you had,
Become much broken, worn, and sad.

Your soul shrinks small, your mind’s in shards,
Chaos reigns, no peace, just scars,
For here the “normal” is the dull,
Soulless beast — just **** and gull.

A monster rules, yet hides from sight,
Dragging all down with brutal might.
The **** commands with “Attack! Go!” —
The world is sinking way too low.

Who’s enemy? This **** will teach,
And fools march off to pointless breach,
To fights they don’t survive, they fall —
Their efforts wasted, lost to all.

But few resist — they hold the line,
Recall the simple, pure, divine.
Reject the lies the fiends have spun,
Deny the Hell, the curse undone.

Return to roots — the simple way,
Though paradox, it’s harder day by day.
With it, you bear a cross-like pain,
While fools keep boxing life’s insane.

Save your soul — simplicity’s balm,
A healing salve, a fleeting calm.
And beauty might return, though brief,
Before the dogs resume their grief.

The “Attack!” command is final round,
Then comes the Armageddon sound.
If from your youth you’re stuck in grime,
Meet your end with grace in time...



---------------------



Simple Feelings of a Pathetic Hellish Dump

Since childhood, you’ve known clear and loud:
This world’s a shitpile, bleak and proud.
Not right, not true — just foul disgrace,
A death sentence for mind and grace.

But dive headfirst in survival’s hell,
Where struggle’s chains just crush and quell —
You’ll lose that simple spark you bore,
Dead soul and brain, crushed to the core.

Your soul’s a shriveled, gasping mess,
Your mind’s torn up in brokenness,
Because “normal” means dull and cold,
A soulless fiend, a heartless scold.

A monster rules — yet out of sight,
Dragging the world into the night.
The **** barks “Attack!” with sick delight —
Dragging all down into the blight.

“Who’s the enemy?” that filth will scream,
And fools will rush into the scheme,
To die for nothing — wasted breath,
A pointless dance with certain death.

But some resist — they keep the flame,
Remember simple truths, no shame.
Reject the lies, the ****’s deceit,
Refuse the Hell’s relentless beat.

Return to roots — that simple core,
Though bearing crosses, pain, and more.
While fools keep duking out their fate,
In this mad, broken, boxed-up state.

Save your soul — simplicity’s sting,
A balm that healing might still bring.
And fleeting beauty may arise —
Before the dogs feast on the lies.

The “Attack!” command is final call,
Then Armageddon swallows all.
If from your youth you’re stuck in grime,
Face your end with ruthless spine.



---------------------



Raw Feelings of a Pathetic Hellhole

Since childhood you’ve felt it sharp and clear:
This world’s a pile of stinking smear.
Not right, not real, just endless shame —
A death sentence burned into your brain.

But dive into survival’s grime,
You’ll drown in filth, lose sense of time.
That simple truth you once held tight
Dies under lies, suffocated tight.

Your soul’s a shriveled, busted mess,
Your mind a shattered wreck of stress,
Because “normal” means dull and dead —
A soulless freak with poison spread.

A monster hides behind the veil,
Dragging us all to final fail.
The **** commands with rabid grin:
“Attack! Destroy! Let chaos win!”

“Who’s enemy?” that ******* screams,
While fools rush headlong into schemes,
To die for lies, for pointless pain,
For worthless scraps they’ll never gain.

But few stand firm — the last pure flame,
Who spit on lies, who fight the game,
Reject the ****’s deceitful ways,
Deny the Hell’s insane malaise.

Return to roots — the painful core,
Where truth burns deep and spirits roar.
While fools keep boxing in the ring
Of madness, death, and suffering.

Save your soul — simplicity’s blade,
A bitter balm, a warrior’s aid.
And beauty’s ghost may haunt the night —
Before the dogs devour the light.

“Attack!” rings out — the final curse,
Then Armageddon’s brutal burst.
If you’re stuck in this hellish slime,
Face your doom with blood and grime.



---------------------



Fight or Fade

When Hell’s clutch drags you deep in mud,
Don’t kneel, don’t crawl, don’t choke on blood!
Rise, fight the ****, tear down the lies —
Or rot with fools beneath black skies!



---------------------



Rage Against the Rotten World

From childhood’s grip, you clearly know:
This world’s a shitshow, rotten low —
A curse on Soul, a Death to Mind,
A filthy pit where hope’s confined.

But drown yourself in daily strife,
The hell of "just surviving" life,
And you will lose that simple spark —
Become a shadow, cold and dark.

Your Soul shrinks tight, your mind’s undone,
Shattered, broken, come undone.
For here the dullards wear the crown,
Soulless fiends dragging all down.

A beast unseen commands this hell,
With whispered lies, the world they sell.
The filth drags down to lowest pit,
A chorus vile — "Attack! Commit!"

They scream who’s "enemy," who’s "fiend,"
While fools march blind to slaughter’s gleam.
To pointless work, to doom, to waste —
The devil’s trap, the soul disgraced.

But few still stand, recall the truth,
Reject the lies that choke our youth.
They spit on Hell’s delirium,
Refuse to bow, to sink, to numb.

Return to roots, to simple grace,
Though pain and paradox embrace.
Like hanging on a twisted cross,
In fools’ cruel ring, the final toss.

But Simple Grace can save your Soul,
A balm that makes the broken whole.
And Beauty flickers back to life,
A brief reprieve from endless strife.

The final “Attack!” — the closing bell,
Then Armageddon’s ruthless hell.
If since your birth you’ve breathed this grime,
Face the End with fire in time.



---------------------



Rage Against the Rotten World

From childhood’s grip, you clearly know:
This world’s a shitshow, rotten low —
A curse on Soul, a Death to Mind,
A filthy pit where hope’s confined.

But drown yourself in daily strife,
The hell of "just surviving" life,
And you will lose that simple spark —
Become a shadow, cold and dark.

Your Soul shrinks tight, your mind’s undone,
Shattered, broken, come undone.
For here the dullards wear the crown,
Soulless fiends dragging all down.

A beast unseen commands this hell,
With whispered lies, the world they sell.
The filth drags down to lowest pit,
A chorus vile — "Attack! Commit!"

They scream who’s "enemy," who’s "fiend,"
While fools march blind to slaughter’s gleam.
To pointless work, to doom, to waste —
The devil’s trap, the soul disgraced.

But few still stand, recall the truth,
Reject the lies that choke our youth.
They spit on Hell’s delirium,
Refuse to bow, to sink, to numb.

Return to roots, to simple grace,
Though pain and paradox embrace.
Like hanging on a twisted cross,
In fools’ cruel ring, the final toss.

But Simple Grace can save your Soul,
A balm that makes the broken whole.
And Beauty flickers back to life,
A brief reprieve from endless strife.

The final “Attack!” — the closing bell,
Then Armageddon’s ruthless hell.
If since your birth you’ve breathed this grime,
Face the End with fire in time.

— Now hear the roar, the battle cry! —
Burn down the walls of their **** lies!
No chains, no lies will hold you now —
Stand up, fight back — take your vow!

Let fury blaze, let hatred fuel,
Expose the fraud, the monstrous rule.
For Soul and Spirit, fight with flame —
Destroy the cursed, purge the shame!

This world’s a pit of poison’s breath,
But from its ash will rise your death —
Death to the lies, the fools, the fraud,
Rebirth for those who brave the odds!

No mercy now for twisted kings,
No mercy for their filthy strings.
The hour’s come, the end is near —
Stand tall, stand fierce, destroy the fear!



---------------------



Battle March for the Chosen

Rise up, you souls who see the lies,
Who spit on Hell, who curse the skies!
No chains to bind your burning will —
The time has come to strike and ****.

The world’s a cage of filth and lies,
A slaughterhouse where freedom dies.
But in your veins — the fire’s roar,
To break the locks, to smash the door.

No more the fools who bow and crawl,
No more the puppets on the wall!
Your spirit’s steel will carve the way,
Through darkest night to brightest day.

The liars, traitors, vipers vile,
Will drown beneath your raging pile.
Their thrones will burn, their lies will crack —
The chosen strike, no turning back!

For Soul, for Honor, for the Light,
Charge through the shadows of the night.
No mercy for the ****** and cold,
Your war cry fierce, your heart is bold.

Stand tall, stand strong, unleash the flame,
Destroy the cursed, reclaim your name!
The end is near — the final fight,
The chosen march into the light!



---------------------



War Cry of the Chosen

Rise, you sons of spite and wrath,
Break your chains and burn their path!
This ******-up world’s a pile of ****,
Built on lies and endless *******.

**** the fools who kneel and crawl,
**** the liars, **** them all!
Your rage’s steel will cut them down,
Tear the ******* from their throne of crown.

No mercy for the **** and slime,
No pity wasted on their crime.
They poison truth, betray the soul,
Time to ******’ take control.

Spit fire, strike hard, break the cage —
Rip apart this ******* stage!
Their rotten lies will burn to ash,
Their empire’s fall — a brutal crash.

You’re the storm, the final strike,
The sharpened blade they’ll never like.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your sword,
Wreck their world with brutal word.

The chosen rise — no ******’ rest!
Till evil’s crushed beneath your chest.
The end is coming, dark and cold,
But you’ll be fierce, relentless, bold.

No turning back, no ******* truce —
You’re war incarnate, sharp as noose.
Charge forward now — the fight is yours,
Break the walls, burn down their doors!



---------------------



The Chosen’s War Cry

Stand the **** up, you sons of rage and spite,
Break your ******* chains, ignite the fight!
This ******* world’s a rotting pit of lies,
Built on worthless **** and endless ******* spies.

**** the spineless fools who crawl and ****,
**** the lying *******—**** their luck!
Your rage is steel, your fists are fire,
Smash their crowns and burn their empire.

No mercy for the **** that crawl and cheat,
No pity wasted on their ******-up deceit.
They poison truth, sell souls for dirt,
Time to bring the hammer down — hurt, hurt, hurt.

Spit venom, strike hard, tear apart the cage—
Rip to shreds this lying stage!
Their rotten lies will burn and die,
Their empire’s ashes blow with every cry.

You are the storm, the final ******* strike,
The blade they fear, the deadly spike.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your burning sword,
Shred their lies with every word.

The chosen rise — no ******* rest!
Smash the ******* with your chest.
The end is coming, cold and black,
But you’ll ******* bring it — no turning back.

No turning back, no ******* peace—
You’re war incarnate, the ******* beast.
Charge like hell, tear down their doors,
Crash their world with thunderous roars!



---------------------



The Chosen’s War Cry

Get the **** up, you sons of ******* hell,
Break these ******* chains, send lies to rot and dwell!
This ****** world’s a puke of filth and ****,
Built on rotten *******, greedy ******* bums.

**** the spineless ******* crawling on their knees,
**** the lying ******* begging on their pleas.
Your rage is fire, your fists a brutal blade,
Cut through their crooked lies, no mercy to be paid.

Spit on their ****, crush their ******* bones,
Tear the corrupt ******* down to ******* stones!
They **** on truth, sell souls for greed and dirt,
Time to ******* smash ’em — **** their slimy hurt.

Scream venom, hit hard, smash that ******* cage—
Rip their ******* ******* from the ******* stage!
Their lies will burn, they’ll drown in their own bile,
Their empire’s ashes scattered mile by ******* mile.

You are the storm, the final brutal ******* strike,
The ******* nightmare cutting through their ******* spike.
Honor, Spirit, Truth — your blazing ******* sword,
Shred their rotten lies, no mercy to afford.

The chosen rise — no rest for ******* traitors!
Smash these *******, tear apart the haters!
The end is coming, cold and black as ******* night,
But you’ll ******* bring it — fight the ******* fight.

No backing down, no peace, no ******* cease,
You’re war incarnate, the unrelenting beast!
Charge through hell, break their ******* doors,
Crash their ******* world with blood and roars!



---------------------



Raw Alienation of This ****** Hellish World

Since childhood, you have felt it clear:
Not right! Not real! Nothing near!
This world’s a worthless, rotten mess —
A shame for Soul, a Mind’s distress.

But dive into the noisy grind —
Hell’s chains of survival bind.
Forget that simple truth you knew —
Already many parts of you are through:

The Soul shrinks tight, the Mind’s undone,
Shattered, torn — no place to run,
For “normal” here’s dull-witted ****,
Soulless, cruel — a ******* ***.

Ruled by monsters, hidden well
From the eyes that see this hell.
Filth drags down the world to pits,
With their usual “Attack!” commands and hits.

They teach you who the “foes” must be —
This is their twisted specialty.
Fools march to slaughter, blind and dumb,
To pointless toil — to certain ******* numb.

Only few refuse the lies —
Cling to Truth and recognize
That all those ******* feed the hell,
Rejecting chains of torment’s spell.

Return to roots — to simple truth,
Though hard as crucifix for youth.
With it, you’re nailed on blazing cross,
While fools around box life with loss.

You save your Soul — simplicity’s balm,
A freakish cure, a healing calm.
And Beauty flickers back again,
Though dogs still bark in endless pain.

“Attack!” again — last vicious round,
Then comes the Armageddon sound.
If since childhood you’ve been ****** in —
Face the end with burning grin.



---------------------



The Question of Responsibility

The crooked twists of "being" here
Are not just life's concerns so clear:
Darkness, Death are knocking loud—
Only fools trust shadows proud.

So all around, distortions spread
Through verbal diarrhea’s dread:
They call it "media" — lies well fed,
And by a Scumbag it’s all led.

The Horned Beast, no doubt, no guess—
Who’ll answer for this mess?
Idiots are the ones to blame—
The media fuels the shame.

To sell your Soul to filthy fiends
With slogans, “Be as all the sheeple,”
There’s no greater crime, no sin
That haunts the ages deep within.

That’s why no life can grow or thrive
Amidst the lies that keep us blind.
They build a Digital Camp to bind
The broken minds, the soulless kind.

For others, Death — a smoky veil,
The Motherland’s a ghostly tale,
Not soulless, but a shooting range,
Where you’re the target, cold and strange.

Not a shooter, just a mark,
If you don’t bow before the dark —
The twisted beast that pulls the strings,
And poisons life with rotten things.

But here’s no choice to just comply—
Don’t feed the evil, lies, and lies.
Fight ’til dirt and filth depart:
Living in ****’s not living smart!



---------------------



Fight or Rot

No bow, no crawl, no blind obey,
Fools trust the darkness, led astray.
Media **** sells your soul cheap,
They herd the dumb while devils creep.

No life in lies, just death’s cold grip,
Digital chains choke mind and spirit.
You’re the target, not the gun—
Rise up, fight, or be undone.

Rot’s the fate for those who kneel,
Fight the filth, refuse the spiel.
Live or drown in endless ****—
Choose your side, commit, commit!



---------------------



Fascism in the False Mary

The tyrant’s bronze, the cruel boss,
A diamond sharp—provoking chaos.
Gold-weighted, hell’s own spark ignites—
Disaster launched through wicked fights.

By filthy fiends who pull the strings,
The False Mary media sings,
“Follow fools to toil and chains,
To slaughter fields and cruel pains.”

If you’re not vermin, you’re a pest—
The wretched herd meets final rest.
New Führer leads them to Hell’s pit,
Calling **** “the elite”—****.

It all began in taverns grim,
Where ******’s soul hunt first grew dim.
Not skins, but souls are fiends’ true prey—
They rush to ***** God’s spark away.

The double-faced Führer now
Shepherds cattle dumb as plow.
Slaughters rage: CowID was stage one—
Now shameless wars have just begun.

But times run out for tyrant’s game,
The world has sunk to digital shame,
A sick mind’s camp built by the vile—
Impressive horrors all the while.

They mock in “democracy” lies,
Numbing senses, dulling eyes.
They build fast, but fail to finish—
Nature strikes, their end’s diminished.

The sun grows fierce, burns ever bright,
Countdown starts for final night.
In hiding holes, they wait their fate—
The Judgment looms, it won’t be late.

And harsh it comes, no fools escape—
To Hell with all who chose the ape.
Only few who stood and fought
Will find the light, the soul unbought.



---------------------



Planet Prison

A slave who’s never known the taste of freedom
Can’t grasp the chains — his fate is ******* grim.


Building fences costs a fortune, sure,
And guards will flood the gates by score.
But first you numb the enemy’s mind —
Without the walls, they’ll just “graze” and grind.

They’ll graze like cattle, dumb and blind,
Not prisoners chained, but herd confined.
To do this, just ensure their fate —
They’ll never see the hand of hate.

Make all the slaves insane inside
With cunning lies to bind their pride.
Rewrite the past, inject the trash,
From childhood on, force-feed the crash:

The theory of their “bright” evolution —
That tails fell off, the grand solution.
Make sure they’re trapped in endless lies,
A spinning web of truth disguised.

From youth they’ll be reduced to beasts,
Distracted by survival’s feasts.
And they will tyrant themselves with glee,
Guarding cages none can see.

Explain survival as the law,
So they obey without a flaw.
The herd grows docile, damage small —
Just a few smart ones face the fall.

And those who think and reason clear
Will be crushed by fools, year after year,
Unless from youth they’re lined in ranks
With mindless slaves and empty thanks.

But free men don’t just fight to live —
Nature offers more to give.
She’s like a mother, kind and vast,
Yet slavery still holds men fast.

Though obvious, no one admits —
Their slavehood wrapped in false permits.
Consciousness with wicked grin
Suppresses truth and swallows sin.

With conscience, honor, dignity,
Replaced by lies and vanity.
A tale is spun — a fake ideal —
Where every “citizen” must kneel.

The trick’s not hard — it’s done each day,
With propaganda’s vile array.
Wild nonsense preached to slaves’ delight,
Belief in “truths” that shine so bright.

A factory of “weighty” words
Spews monsters, killing proper worlds.
Deformity breeds deformity —
Genocide becomes the deity.

For numbing minds grows ever tough,
Then idiots serve dark masters’ bluff.
In silent wars, they twist the throng,
It’s easiest to **** the wrong.

The clinically insane,
Eliminated without pain.
The rabid crowds of madmen breed
The death of humans in their need.

Humans few — the final seed —
Torn down by fascist times’ dark greed.
Exhausted souls with spirit chained,
Their minds enslaved, their freedom drained.

Enslaved by shallow, hollow streams,
Caught in this void of endless dreams!
They leave without a single fight —
For fear they’ll be consumed outright.

These halfwits flood the ocean’s shore —
Obedient slaves of empty lore.
Fake slave states built on rotten bones —
A planet prison, *****’s home.

Where spirit’s scarred by venom deep,
A world so vile it’s doomed to reap.
It’ll burn — a crematorium’s flame —
When spirit dies, there’s only shame.

This filthy realm will face its end,
For boundless genocide will rend.
And that sweet moment’s coming fast —
For those who stand, who never passed.



---------------------



Friend or Foe

Long lost the sense to tell friend from stranger,
Man drifts in fog, no longer a ranger.
Like endless fights to prove who’s dumber —
Regression’s march to wooden lumber.

I always felt the eyes behind,
Saw just a spark in someone’s mind.
But poisons in food and paths we choose
Have crushed this gift — no use to lose.

Intuition barely clings —
This world adores the petty things.
Money rules, a god, a king —
Nothing else has any wing.

Once a ghost inside my head,
Read my thoughts like words unread.
But with people came a blunder —
Numbness rose in endless thunder.

Not people — just dumb logs,
Exceptions scarce, like lost dogs.
Feels like moths near flame, they die,
Fragile souls doomed to lie.

How to build a spiritual bond?
The hardest question to respond.
Stupid masses crush and grind,
Drowned in darkness man-designed.

The choice is lies against lies,
Sensitive souls pay the price.
Always hard, the brave endure —
Only fools have doubts obscure.

Here beasts break through the wall,
Only shadows can they call.
The world’s a cage, all trapped inside
By darkest evil, vast and wide.

Rare light flickers ‘midst the shade —
Spirit’s halo slowly fades.
I saw it before it fled —
The ram rages, numb or dead.

Dead when drained of all his power —
Energy’s a drip, a sour.
Only spews his stinking word-snot —
A foul flood that won’t be stopped.

As child, I glimpsed my soul’s face,
Watched my body from that place.
So I loathe the mystic lies —
Their deceit, their fake disguise.

Some exceptions break the chain —
“Number twenty” strong remains.
But all else is small and vile,
Under Satan’s shadowed smile.

So I turned to logic’s might,
Adding instinct’s blazing light.
Balance is the sacred key —
Without it, lost eternally.

So heed yourself and trust the fire,
Ignite your gut — resist the liar.
Or perish ‘midst the endless dung,
Screaming lies that must be wrung!

Clean your mind, it’s fight or death —
A sewer stinks with every breath.
This curse, this beast, this tightening noose —
Strangles spirit, kills its juice.

Entangled deep in lies and chains,
Generations bear the stains.
We’re executioners, blind and cold,
Mind and spirit crushed, sold, and sold.

If bonds of soul keep breaking fast,
As they have done since ages past,
We’ll turn to beasts, to ****, to slime —
Soulless cattle lost to time.

Dear future me

Hey we did it. We finally had the confidence to face a fear (well I mean hoping because this is written to a future me and I can’t predict the future). This is the fear of loving someone else,after the shitshow which was past loves. Now, I have some advice for you. DONT **** IT UP THIS TIME!!!

1. Don’t talk about past loves

2. Stop ******* apologising all the time for been cheesy or worrying you epically fail at being sweet

3. Try hold yourself together and don’t let nerves get the better of you when you want to ask if you can hold their hand

4. If you talk about politics, don’t go on a massive rant about how capitalism needs to be destroyed and end up looking like a massive left-wing revolutionary wannabe
5. If they feel like they need space, let them have it without constantly asking “have I done something wrong?” Or blaming myself for it and once again constantly apologising because not everything in their lives is to do with you

6. Comfort them when they need it and prove you will be there for them without butting into problems they don’t want you to get involved in.

7. If they make mistakes don’t cry and scream at them to stop as they will blame themselves for hurting you andwant to push the blade further into their scars

8. And if it doesn’t work, dont drink to hide the pain. Embrace it and accept they werent the one.

I don’t know when you are reading this as like I said earlier I can’t tell the future but honestly please listen. You may look back on your youth as the mostly-immature guy you were. But you were 21 when you wrote this letter and at that age you had already gone through so much loss and pain. You were full of life experiences when you had only just become an adult. Look back and learn from you mistakes.

I AM YOU

i sought refuge in the back of a rundown playground. orange and purple monkey bars turning the insides of fingers soft red, and faces a delicate blue from hanging upside down for too long. 2017 was the year everything changed. following a confession down a busy street on dashain, you made me promise not to say anything. i learned then to keep secrets and guard them with shame; knowing that the day would come, when you’d blindside and lie. “it’s her fault,” you told my sister, as you carried all your **** out the door. my mother at the top of the staircase, overhearing your utterance–– it’s typical of you to place blame everywhere else besides yourself. you instilled a lie that would create 3 years worth of resentment, anger, and pointed fingers. the truth was you didn’t know how to talk, and while you told me you had done “all you could to make her happy, it just didn’t work out”–– there’s more that permeates below cryptic explanations. i learned how to villainize quickly, internalizing every detail you spewed out during friday night outings. when i walked beside you in silence, your body and voice strained with tension, “why don’t you ever say anything to me?”, maybe i have nothing to say. or maybe because deep down i knew that to speak truthfully to you would result in defensive explanations; “oh no you just don’t understand. you think you do, but you really don’t.” cool. i learned how to shut the **** up and disassociate. each time an email entered your mailbox, and the accusations began, so did you. dumping all your emotional baggage onto the table, my mozzarella sticks falling to the floor; and the pita bread and hummus shoved into my mouth to keep me from responding and providing comfort to you. i learned about repression, what it means to bite your tongue, and turn a blind eye. not because i wanted to, but to maintain the peace. what a load of *******. you condemned my tears; and it was then that i learned that pain and hurt are inconvenient. and when your amante came to stay for a month and a half, you opened arms and welcomed her tears willingly. i guess age warrants greater emotional respect and support. i learned quick that tender tongue does not run in your bloodline, so i looked elsewhere for verbal consultation.

in the back of a rundown playground is where you’d find me, across a pubescent girl with thick, black frames, soft eyes, and verbal delicacy. we exchanged stories spoken through runny noses and silent tears, dreading to take the 4pm bus home knowing what would await. the eight hour school day offered an array of distractions far from the shitshow that permeated our homes. we interlocked hands and vowed to be there for another; at the time you were enraged by a pain that gripped at your throat most days. i felt selfish to speak out, so i didn’t. instead i made room for you each weekend, anxiety in my stomach, bracing myself for whatever revelation or frustration you contained all week to ooze out over a glass of whiskey. and as i write this, years after these unfolding events, i wince, at your reaction, as you negate these observations and feelings of mine. i’m learning to claim entitlement over my pain, you nor anyone else can spell it out for me. and like all the rest, you will sit in discomfort and swallow each moment with me. you will feel what it feels to walk through the past five years, and feel every emotion that kept us interconnected and separated. for the first time, you will learn how to listen openly. i don’t write to antagonize, but to recount the years you missed of me; with the hopes you’ll understand me more than you did before.

i hope you make it through to the very end.

-c.alejandra

They sit ,
waiting to be edited ,
hoping I'll enter one day with the same frame of mind ,
praying they won't be abandoned .

Yet they know they will,
they've reached a point where they've learnt ,
that every poem is a feeling .
An idea ,
A carefully crafted shitshow .

They will remain trapped ,
alone and together at the same time ,
with the others who weren't quite good enough .