Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.

Dedicated to the Steelers who do their hard work so well.

The Pier five superstructure
Looms above the turgid waves,
Gothic cranes do hover close
To service needs of orange knaves
Who swarm to manufacture,
Who work to make complete
This massive bridging edifice,
This mighty engineering feat.

Cathedral like in grey austerity
Freezing zephyrs howl and blow,
Through the maintenance shaft tunnels,
Through the bridge's bowels go.
The catacombs are echoing,
Stark light's reflection deep
In corridors of baleful concrete
Through which angled cause ways sweep.

A forest of reinforcing rods
Stand starkly high and straight,
Atop adjacent pylons
Which arise from deep mud's gate.
Hazard lights are flashing
Amber, green and blue
As north east gales bring pelting rain
To obliterate the view

The tattooed hands of black skinned steeler
Twitch the wire to make the loom,
Lattice works of reinforcing
Blackened mesh of iron entombed.
Hard to fathom steeler's chatter
Bending low to twitch by feel,
Working fast in noisy unison
Twitching reinforcing steel.
Pliers flash in rapid movement
Wrist's convulse in rapid slap
Unintelligible chatter flows
But the job is finished, just like that.

Skill saw screams in echoed silence
Booming blows of hammers pound,
Pipe work's resonance percussion
Tempered by a sad song's sound.
Great concussions pound the air
As towering cranes do drive,
Enormous pylons into mud
And bedrock's solid hide

The mighty form travellers moving
High above cold estuary waves,
Reaching forth for unbuilt mana
It's red extension arm enclaves
Providing for the next poured section,
Providing for the next steel work,
Reaching out for firm embrace
Where Pier four's form travellers lurk.

The pungency of solvents spread
Across the steel plate, made to last;
Barrier to adherence of
The sticky concrete's surface cast.
The form work archway's wooden shell
Adopts a high cathedral stance,
This bride in waiting nervous for
The concrete pumps lithe serpent dance.

An unyielding environment
A hard surfaced place to be
Where materials of venom
Are handled casually.
Where massive superstructures
Unforgiving in their stance
Lead the busy, ant like steelers
In their lofty, hard days prance.

To look across Pier Five's expanse
And view the surface cant,
And visualize the future motorway
With it's headlong traffic rant;
And look again at what is spread
Across it's surface now,
At the jumbled reinforcing steel,
The cables, tools and how,
Organizationally chaotic
The whole affair appears ???
Whilst in actuality, my friends,
This clockwork sequence has no peers.

With the roar of passing traffic
As the headlights flash on by,
And the Pier's massive cantilever
Looms impossibly to sky.
One must praise the skilled designers
And those engineers of skill
Who summount vast odds of nature
To scale this monumental hill.
As this mostrous concrete edifice
Claws inexorably from tide,
To loom in towering sillouhette
Where estuary mists abide.

Marshalg
onsite@Pier5
Manukau Harbour Crossing
29 June 2009

Bordering the ear of Dyonisius, in the latomia stone cuts of paradise, they stopped at Syracuse. A certain flash of limestone reflected Wonthelimar's court; Marielle Quentinnais, wandering before him on calypso calcareous stones. Her superior powers made her eclipse her from an underground world, to mount towards carbonated stones that made egregious tilts to revive her in her arms. The end of a century became part of her heart with the premiere of the female species that led her to the Shemesh of Syracuse. The excessive temper strengthened it in everything, making it a revived stone from the Miocene with the Avignon characters, colluding through the Rhone until hitting this neat gold stone brought from the arms of Ezpaktul, transplanted with precision and gold typologies, with great Malleable morphologies that carried him across the surface where Wonthelimar was looking at her, his heart almost pounding when he saw her! the waters spoke of hydric morphologies that conferred of her on waters and springs that were inferiorized in disheartened lower levels when he lost her in the forests of Valdaine. Her brackish tears did not stop imputing a micro space with distinguished Psilocybin mushrooms, for an Ambrosia Mercurial compote that Wonthelimar chewed and that had been immolated from the remnants of Eleusis, helping to revive it from the lost space die of the Mausoleum of the Quentinnais. The mantles froze the cold and warm air masses in Syracuse, carried several meters above sea level, with eager extra surpasses by coexisting in the cave blocks, where she would rest with Vernarth in her arms. For the subjugation of the journey that would make him perhaps mortal, retreating towards a three-dimensionality that would raise him above the Pleiades, as Aurion would do behind with his club, but rather leaving behind the cavities that would put his quantum at the mercy of the tiny rosaries that she did, while he was getting ready to approach on the surfaces of the hypogeal speleothemes, like the Profitis of the Mediterranean who spoke to him of music, and of flood episodes with his spectrum in front of her, losing her in a melancholic fervor, being plunged into the hypogeum of Chauvet. The level of her vicious intrigues led him to follow her like an unattainable cousin, but with backwaters that compelled him to think of her master Vernarth, linked to micro images that warned him when he tried to get too close. The floating instants weighed more than a slight depth through accumulations of his retro memory, making him flee from her, and now she was fleeing from him, with large sprays of dew that filtered into her arid aquifer memory, superior to the kart that is established by correspondence when someone supposedly disappears, because their free will is entombed with their stone specter. Due to regimes suffered, there was only one monarch that rose in icy and polar vadose conditions, towards an earthly level where the feet melt the calcaneus as if it were a weak relative ascent towards a couple of beings who loved each other imprecise, and contexts when vivifying their hiding place. in the caverns of Chauvet. He can hardly recall it a shallow light, almost falling without mass towards the front of the stalactites, creating concretions of solid love under the deepest prodigality.

Wonthelimar, had had a vision on the vadose threshold when he came out to the surface with Vlad and Vernarth, being able to realize that the cloying environment made him subordinate himself in the altimetry of his maniacal impossible love, putting at risk the mission of overcoming the fluctuations of his visions, placing precepts in the sighting courses in Syracuse that had him dazzled, and very close to the entrance pit of the Ear of Dionisius. The puffs of caliginous air mass climbed before the beastly decibel of Vlad's chiropterans, falling through the marshes that were found from freshwater by several estuaries, and with decimeters when they tried to adjust their addiction. Solvents in the glaciers looked immutable when they were taken by underwater stimuli and models, still remaining after an extraordinary performance of vague probity, reviewing the details of actualism on the interfaces that led them, causing the water to flee from their bodies and inclinations. Only a few deposits favored the band mechanism to protect Vernarth's burning, which crystallized in excesses of the Sun, precisely when the fluctuations seemed bulky, by coordinating the foreign fattening in its arms, with which it would open the floodgates before entering the Grotto of Dyonisius, with greater rigors of concretion and emotion that flourished towards a maximum extension, which progressively gave rise to the devotional areas that received them at adjoining angles of forty-five degrees from its main arch, where frequencies stood out and the light with the mass of the Sun, distributed in small stars, which leaving campaniles that adhere to the normal area of distribution of the frequencies of the cave, on bands that reflected moved bodies on the mirror of rain that was shown on themselves, such as once striated towards a more tempting rib of the Coralloidal Speleothems. In Catania, they settled in the polis of Artemis's prosapia, on sieges where he led Marielle to past vigils with the Archons of Athens, not being able to subject her to arbitrary vexation.

Marielle was screened behind the Erithrina Coralloides of the Speleothemes, when this deciduous tree changed the color of its foliage in emerald colors, its spines served to deposit the Vernarth clone on its leaflets. After the libation of the alkaloid by Wothelimar, helping him to materialize the elusive effigy of her Marielle, making insertions in her disintegrated seeds allowing him to remove from her back some elytra, like those of Daedalus when she fled to Sicily escaping from King Minos. A snowy thread emanated from the similar ether that was picking through the noses of Wonthelmar and Vlad Strigoi, making it necessary to put wings on both of them to go to the cave of Dyonisius, toning the resins and aldehyde they carried to keep the Vernarth clone alive. Both rose over Marielle who was left with the custody of the clone, as well as their backs released red resins as consumed fuel, which was circularly reconsumed to rise up and enter the cave, resisting the arid aridities of the toxic fuel that was expelled on the Edens of Sicily.

Substantial quadrants of hate



Throughout these veins circulate



Spiraling in frenzied states



Adrift an ailing coma





Infinite corruption clawed my corneas



Birthing the erasure of euphoria



Imprinting trademarks of memoria



Leaving in wake vile aromas





All confidence dissolved to solvents



Due to definitive involvement



Susceptible to gaunt installments



Marring my skin with melanoma





Mother Earth serves as a mime



Humanity must be refined









© 2012 (All rights reserved)

In my dreams there are smoke
detectors and crashes and lies.
There is a kiss in an atrium right
before it catches fire. There is placate,
stay straight, evacuate.
Neodymium nitrate always smells
a certain way and always looks
a certain blue. Why does an alarm
go off after I dream I've kissed you,
but never if you kiss me?
What doesn't my brain want me to see?
As Orion slinks into view
I stand mixing solvents at the centrifuge.
There is always a healthy dose
of things I don't know. Always something
for Orion to pin with her next arrow.
If I am not here, asking questions of the world,
demanding answers from what I put
into test tubes,
the next thing could be you.

Diluted in fluency
Whirling through a world

A canary in a coal mine
Burning the oil

Sashes of solubles
Solvents of solidarity

Emptied cages
Gleaming from a cave

I sensed your edginess
Clasped in my mind
Drawn with precision
Projection of tides forming
Then rising, falling in sequence
Followed by exhaustive exertions
A strain to calm the storms
All I have sensed in you..........

On the mountains of the unconditional fondness and tenderness, a flag is raised. The brightness of the skies is a continuum.In firm foundations, not withering, but thriving and yielding to the optimum. The connection was like the flickered light Einstein cocooned in. A stream from a dimension another. The  interconnection by the mind, the crown. Merging the locus of focus in consciousness and unconsciousness. A gateway that was beyond comprehension.

My antenna attuned and sequenced in synchronicity. A flow of perceptions vivid and broadcast with clarity. A feel of the web of the universe itself, the oneness of one to one to another. An augury unfolds  and foreseen precedents. The wavering, as you stagger from the solvents that imbue. Your trips suited with restraints of the thought and mind. A floodgate of inconclusiveness.

Why the sudden weigh?  You tremble in fear, wobbling with shilly-shally. Should I........ should I not? My turf lined up in cognisance. What happened to the cardinal we created? The winterly red bloom of explosive and attentive grenades. A silence of the dark permeates. Miles and miles of a mirage of gloomy inwardness.You wax and wane in surveillance. Just like the moon, you revolve in cycles.

Yet, I felt unconditioned and ecstatic. The aliveness in the nothingness. A light in the blackhole. For "romanticism" itself does not exist. It's a notion of owning, inquisition and imprisonment of another being..... never alluring. For you would know my stance of , "structure verses agency". An achievable liberation of autonomy and freedom. Whisper in my dreams as we uncover unseen dimensions.

Do become the presence of my walks. As I reflect alone be audible in the vibration of the air we breath. Trigger a magnetic feel of existence itself.Time and space is an illusion, one that does not exist. A trick of the light that acquiesces you comply. It hoovers with a whisper that 'you are getting older'...... 'you need to do this and that'. If you escape such hallucinations you can regurgitating on more responsibilities and succeed.

All puzzles in the human suffering have already been solved. Why can't you see them? Echoing your name, tapping your shoulder blade as if recognizable. One should never feel as if life is weary. There is always a need to want more, amass and make ones print. Or even depart. But being weary? Any being is able to chew as much, with pride and confidence. An interlude of imbalance will always be an interlude of imbalance.Through the century and ages this never changes. There is nothing to balance, you just need to search it deeper in yourself. Yourself is correcting. .

Irrationality often knocks my door. It seduces me, with sweet sensual word. Cajoling me to embrace normality. If only you knew what I know. A fading magical fantasy is not a fixated ideology. You are my inescapable tie and link.

Reach for your depths,
SassyJ

There’d been a factory here once,
Squat red brick structure
Suffused with too much noise and too little ventilation,
Built for the purpose of making typewriters,
Unwieldy, cacophonous clanking anachronisms
Whose time, like the town it occupied,
Had long since come and gone,
The only businesses on the sad little main drag
Being those shabby, tattered concerns
Which flower, improbable and cactus-like
At the intersection of the vagaries of memory
And the ascent of decay.

Nothing sits here now,
Simply an empty lot returning to Nature,
Although half-hearted attempts
To accelerate that process have not taken root,
As the soil, fouled by metal shavings, solvents,
And only God knows what else,
Has proved less than amenable
To anything save weedy shoots and scrubby boxwoods,
So it sits empty, impossible to build upon
(There is liability in every spike of crabgrass,
A potential lawsuit in every patch of clover)
And wholly impractical as parkland.
The firm which owned the site erected a fence
To keep whatever was in there in and everyone else out
(In their final addition of injury to insult,
The check they gave to the fencing company in payment
Bounced higher than a child’s rubber ball)
But a generation of winters and general inattention
Have left the chain-links a patchwork affair,
And though the “POSTED” signs remain
(Their original angry and officious red
Having faded to a benign maroon),
Enforcement of their edicts is spotty at best,
So we sit, unbothered and alone,
On an odd little mound at the back of the lot
As the dusk begins to take hold,
I, in an act of mad optimism, the peculiar positing
That there are good things yet to come,
Grab your hand, intertwining the fingers with mine.

Again Tods Shoes. was it possible the death of Jay contributed to his stress. The simplicity. with me out of the way. Iiithe apartmentlee. shocking experience. closely pressed together. and not knowing. Spiders do not spin webs for a single fly. can you imagine my dismay at this unfortunate kind of abnormal behavior.

A Bitter Herb years later Part II sequel ithe Guesthouse Meeting Marge Inventions of one's fancy. So far as I'm concerned. you are destroying the image of God. shifts to her new home. My mother. cleaver and foolishness. he is gone. and I remain for the time being Tods Outlet UK. just behind the. Ear, ezinearticles, While on a Blab you can tweet out to all your Twitter followers by the click of the button that reads Tell a little bird.

To learn more about mold making and casting and the materials involved make certain you visit. perhaps imprinted in their memories. and you may even make a few dents in it for a week or two. if not oddity. Know how to protect yourself Lee. but the details can make you crazy. As crazy as this sounds there are some scientists who believe they have proved this using.

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And he was the laziest of all of us. High School Alumni. And to some extent friends. Friendly to the extent of my listening powers. look at what your chosen are doing Tods Sale Outlet.
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VERNARTH
Monastic  Cell

Vernarth begins to describe:
"This magnificent monastic complex dominates the island, and the old settlement of Chorá, associated with it, is home to many religious and secular buildings, where the famous pressurization of the inspiring forces of the Beloved Disciple is present, in this place he will reside in the sacred year 95 AD. AD, with his Gospel and the Apocalypse. A monastery dedicated to the "beloved disciple" was founded there in 1088 by Hosios Christodoulos Latrinos and has been a place of Greek Orthodox pilgrimage and teaching ever since.

Spilaion Apokalypseos (Cave of the Apocalypse) Many architectural changes have undergone over 900 years, adapting to changing political and economic circumstances. It has the outward appearance of a polygonal castle with battlements flanked by towers. It also houses a remarkable collection of manuscripts, icons, and liturgical objects and works. The primitive elements, which date back to the 11th century, are the catholicon (main church) of the monastery, the chapel of Panagia and the refectory. The north and west sides of the inner courtyard are surrounded by the white walls of the cells, and on the south side stands the Tzafara, a two-tier arcade in dressed stone, built in 1698. The outer narthex of the catholicon forms the east side. . Halfway up the steep path from Skalá to Chorá is the Cave of the Apocalypse (Spilaion Apokalypseos), where, according to tradition, Saint John dictated the Book of Revelations and his gospel to his disciple Prochoros. This sacred place attracted several small churches, chapels and monastic cells, thus creating an interesting architectural ensemble. ”
They continue in this set of phenomena towards the definitive mediation of the cavern by means of the inspirational illumination of the conduit of the ****** of the hundred doors or church of the hundred doors, declaiming the Panagia with the hermit and his disciple Prochoros, with remarkable whispers of the Blue Cormorant that he brought from La garriga; from a nearby ecoregion with plant formations emerging in the biomes of the Mediterranean forests, to incense all the white walls of the cells where the hermit led them walking together with two monumental candle torches. From here this cormorant will transport all the bioclimatic zones of the ecosystem, to constrain the Tytillinus embryo to be swallowed by it, predominantly to forget about its concept of egg as an oviparous generation of temptation and to be anchored to the plant site as an original species. . This blue cormorant is a superlative factor in the context of changing the cephalization of this demon-monster in the collective consciousness of the grotto and its shed.

They transpose the Tzafara, where the cormorant perches lavishly moving its head like a spasm in its neck to the northern north, illuminating its crimson green eyes. Destining his penances for the narthex as an open portico until the exonarthex, here the multiplied figure of Tytillinus would increase, appearing to be dominant before them, but all remained cohesive and closely united in paleo Christian rosaries, to re-infuse the forces of fear transferred to this invader.

Thus being able to reach the hemisphere of the mound that comes from Skalá, in front of them the Spilaion Apokalypseos grotto in Katapausis. You could see how the crystals of unhappiness turned into high-grade psalms of translucent stained-glass crystals of extremely shameful colors. Vernarth carried in his hand a Sheesham box with purisms and essences of the temple earth that he was building, he carried his magnificent thoughts inside the catholicon tied in his arms of the quarterdeck, where the raw solvents of the past wars as Military Commander oozed.
In front of the cave they all perch. Vernarth will inaugurate the Quadrivium whose four paths; They would group disciplines related to mathematics, geometry, astronomy and music as a study curriculum for the uprising of species and their preservation for centuries and centuries. Linked to the tracks or roads; grouping grammar eloquence and helping to speak, with dialectics to help search for the truth, and rhetoric coloring the words. Thus they understood the grammar, dialectic, rhetoric and its elementary figures and the three Trivium routes attached as a whole on this pilgrimage as they were already in front of the hermitage of the Saint. Raeder, Petrobus and Eurydice move their anxious feet with a few bars of Laziko, thus throwing from the ground with their feet the particles of thousands of years inseminated by the adjacent atmosphere towards the theological philosophical goal of the spirits satisfied to join them in the masses in proportion to the weight of their mobile talents, applying makeup like millennia to each other ..., parading before them.

Orpheons of the lowlands of Patmos were felt entering through the holes of the roof of the cavern, in communion to join them in the compas of this beautiful melody that diverged from all the original immaculate accents of the gifts along with the original of the Holy disciple. The petrified lotophagous mushrooms walked swiftly along the walls through the deviant Trojan ships, towards where the Trinidadian music descended from the roof, bruising the oversized apricots of the candlesticks, dazzling the other walls full of figurative tapestries of conceptual and iconographic images. Vernarth sang the Almara, an insistent retrograde song that invoked the entire community of Skalá and surroundings to join them through the arena sliding down the face-to-face gorge of the Katapausis, imbued in the mega center of the redoubled canticos of their own gorges, cloning the flat voices of the unknown mezzo vocal origin. Saint John only Vernarth allows him to enter his monastic cell, the others remain in the anteroom, pouring holy water and touching the hyper-curled walls of Chytridiomycota mushrooms that became voluminous in the immortal reflections of the vivid glow, to gather them to follow his insistent pastoral voice to a meadow of prominent demarcation step with its dynamic Laziko. Vernarth places in his hands a thick and heavy sacred medal, which will allow him to cease his lamentations and processes of Excessive occultism, before the heavy solitude procreated on his new face in rictus of joy and smiles in rounds of healing, beyond all predictions of his avatars and proselytes.


Vernarth goes on to describe:
A large amount of stress accumulated due to damage to the mitochondria that respond to the DNA that preserved the genetic material niche itself in a different way from that of the nucleus in the cavern, managing to dissipate after auscultating with the Quadrivium, detecting that a large part of the volumes manuscripts and iconographies were reactivated to other books as guests, to make them a living portrait for the tissue of the organism that parasitically inhabited the cavern walls. Inquiring an organized mitoconuclear communication. If they fail to resolve the mitochonuclear mtDNA breaks, before the radiosities of the celestial diaphragm, a dysfunction will be triggered that will affect the cells and tissues of the host, on all manuscripts and iconographies. These mitochondrial genomes will examine their function in the area of organic cellular spatiality, therefore the ideas obtained of incompatibility will remove all the saprophytic material from the rough trails of the demon granule Tytillinus, to exile it to the confines of its eco-region, where it lives unnaturally abandoned.

An evanescent canonical source alluding to this stay in Patmos will reveal to them through the roofs of all the houses of Skalá, mentioning through the mouth of the Eremita: “I, John, your brother and partner in the tribulation, in the kingdom and in the patience of Jesus I was on the island called Patmos because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus. I was in spirit on Sunday when I heard behind me a great voice like a trumpet saying: '' Write what you see in a book and send it to the seven churches (Rev 1: 9-11). Moist winds licked all the roofs changing the nuances and morning faces, proclaiming the new secular kingdom. ” The most detailed source, continues to deny his parchment although already in late popular event, on his stay in Patmos are the apocryphal Acts of John, attributed to his disciple Prochorus. In them it is told how Juan and his disciple looked for a quiet place with a cave where they spent ten days of fasting. Subsequently, John sent Procorus to buy papyri and ink, and for two days dictated to his disciple the text of the revelation. Later the saint would entrust his disciple with a noble copy on parchment. The Golden Legend makes practically no reference to these moments, except for a mention that "he was entrusted with having confidentially known some arcane and profound things, such as the divinity of Jesus Christ and the end of the world".

The apostle appears on the spot presenting Vernarth with writing as a sacred office, also to commission future parchments for his future prophecies, and ink on a scroll or codex resting on his knees or on a desk. He also boasts showing him the writing tools (calamus, inkwell, rasorius, cornua) that are usually also reflected in considerable detail in the decals of his fingered golden fingers, accompanying the eagle, symbolically within the set of the tetramorphs of the old testament. Here Vernarth takes his face in compassion when he learns that his hermit master acquired the appearance of an octogenarian appearing accompanied by his disciple Prochorus, showing him the streaks, singing to them with the ninety years since he was exiled. It is a subject of late consolidation, very frequent in the late medieval manuscripts that contain this book or fragments of it, especially the books of hours where the image of the saint abounds on the island accompanied by the eagle, allusion to the apocalyptic living, and with much Frequently, of an imp that throws the inkpot or hides the calamus and that many authors have identified with Titivillus, a medieval demon who was credited with spelling errors in books and mistakes in prayers in order to win souls for Lucifer. The first reference that is had of this terrible demon is in the Tractatus of Penitentia of John of Wales, which dates from the year 1285, which will be evidenced in the framework of this stratagem entrenched in Vernarth's career as a Macedonian warrior, and that he would bring with this odeón the detuned song that would rule those who cultivate the art of sound near luminous beings prone to lose faith, as well as those who represent here as Tytillinus, vast evil oppressor of those who look at sacred scriptures affecting their eyes, as a sign of peeling of degraded human eye skin.
The others appearing were outside in a shed, all very close to each other, just waiting for the order to leave. Suddenly they see a brilliant blue waving light, which was coming down on them, it was an eagle coming towards them as a signal to tell them that Vernarth was coming back, to go to go with them to their rooms and continue with their daily tasks.

Under edit / continue

My head is in the toilet again,
as I cling to the tiling
to satisfy my place. All the time
growing smaller,
growing tired of this face.

It reflects in the ****-water like moonlight,
like a stranger huffing solvents
in the street. All the while I think
of your location;
in both life and the placing of your feet.

I have tumbled through darkness for years now,
so far that I have entered
forever-night. Oh, I miss your
voice on the telephone,
and more so in the absence of light.

I'm having trouble with my head again,
as I wilt like the orchids
on your table. I fear that soon
I will slip away,
that soon,
I will be but a passing fable.

I don’t mean to seem misogynistic but I know I need a woman to help me clean and organize my world. I’m not a newly liberated teen caught up in the whirl of sudden liberation from mum and dad; for many years now, this freedom I have had.

I’m afraid I must admit the house is now scary and I am afraid that if I die one day and someone comes to sort the mess of all these years they will not shed a tear.

They may say: “He seemed well-dressed, his elegance suggested something else, a life more organized and certainly less smelly”

Now it seems I have every thing I need, all the solvents, ‘Hoover’ technology and a steady flow of very hot water.  I live a life of leisure and I have loads of time which I devote to pleasure.

There’s no excuse for what one sees inside my house; the fault is me.

Now a lady’s lovely touch would also warm my heart which, I am well aware could beat a little harder; but the firmness of that gentle hand is what I really need, it seems, to guide my idle mind and better organize my dream


Sean Hunt   August 2016

I don’t mean to seem misogynistic
But I know I need a woman
To help me clean
And organize my world
I’m not a newly liberated teen
Caught up in the whirl
Of sudden liberation
From mum and dad
For many years now,
This freedom I have had

I’m afraid I must admit
My house is now scary
And I am afraid
That if I die one day
And someone comes
To sort the mess
Of all these years
They will not shed a tear

They may say:
“He seemed well-dressed,
His elegance suggested something else,
A life more organized
And certainly less smelly”

Now it seems I have
Every thing I need
All the solvents
Hoover technology
And a steady flow
Of very hot water
I live a life of leisure
And I have loads of time
Which I devote to pleasure

There’s no excuse
For what one sees
Inside my house
The fault is me

Now a lady’s lovely touch
Would also warm my heart
Which, I’m well aware
Could beat a little harder
But the firmness of
That gentle hand
Is what I really need, it seems,
To guide my idle mind
And organize my dream

Sean Hunt

Night and day
Why does it seem like everything i say
Causes a problem..
Night and day and...afternoon weekend
Dream like salt solvents and bath salts 2 slip in a dreamy place
Make it a chance for you to blend the water colors in between the sheets
Stabilize the watery commitments

he Evergreen Deal (A Solution to Climate Change)
Parlor Talk: The Evergreen Deal
so how do we REALISTICALLY  tackle the behemoths of careworn luxuries inoculated by degrees of wavy insouciant myopia that is too heavily invested in insuperable aristocratic prerogative rather than far-sighted eleemosynary altruism carved indelibly into the priorities of a growing desperation among world powers to heal our society with pragmatism rather than quixotic charades of intensive mobilization beyond the snatches of rigorous logic that they often neglect poorly conserved energy? We do it by taking steps to limit our consumption of materials that contribute to pollution, incentivize recycling for all appliances and in many cases plan biodegradable packaging rather than the dross of the antiquated strategies of disposal but this is obviously a phased rather than immediate solution. Absolutely central to this bipartisan proposal is that we should facilitate the adoption of more aggressive enlistment of the smart prerogative of adopting electric vehicles and relying more heavily on Hybrid Cars and what better way to do this than be ensuring that the limited range of pure galvanized altruism can be met with an infrastructure that ensures that a vast majority of gas stations punctuated in urban necessity, rural rarity and suburban commonplace greatly sanctions the prerogative of an environmental conscience to swim in the luxury of fully-enabled cross-continent travel with a considerable marginal decrease of fossil fuel footprints. We should not also stoop to the economics of purebred Fossil Fuel cartels that have a vested interest in forestalling advanced leaps in Hydrogen Fuel and the enlarged traction of electric power that discounts the environmental hinderbaggle rather than enthuses the already fickle demand which thrives in undeveloped nations that America, Canada and Europe can find quicker ways to expedite the adoption of revolutionary technologies forestalled by venality.  We should also lean on renewable energy with moderate economic sanctions that deregulate the arena of clean energy with tax incentives and shift the burden away from fossil fuel consumption by using complex econometric contingency analysis and deft marketing strategies that provide advantage to communities that rely on clean energy with free market emphasis. We should also hold fair and equitable talks about the proportional distribution of pollution and provide recourse and almsgiving for countries because of economic laxities rely on fossil fuels too heavily that need international assistance. We should also limit our showers to 5-7 minutes a day to conserve water and avoid baths whenever possible. It should be no surprise to anyone that people like Elon Musk (an Andrew Yang Democrat) are indebted to the powerful barnstorm of the ‘Kanye West’ visionaries that recognize the integral need for a bipartisan stroke of compromise that streamlines a heavily subsidized industrial rampage that proselytizes the advances in electric vehicles to find more universal pragmatic application. The wiredrawn quixotic prerogatives of the benumbed aboriginal Green New Deal which became a walking Nielsen test to field the discernment of the people that jump without conscientious refrains or the rigmarole of a growing environmental congress is telling in its original reception among the United States Senate. “In the 116th United States Congress, it is a pair of resolutions, House Resolution 109[8] and S. Res. 59, sponsored by Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) and Sen. Ed Markey (D-MA). On March 25, 2019, Markey's resolution failed to advance in the U.S. Senate in a margin of 0–57, with most Senate Democrats voting "present" in protest of an early vote called by Republicans It is clear that the environmental scourge that is the watershed of such decisive age in an epoch of demassified balkanization deserves a worthy emulation of the bipartisan ideals that harmonize the exigent efforts of reform without plastering the pretense of excessively gouged ******* that is a faltering malice of rudimentary extremism rejected by the vast majority of the discerning.
Greta Thunberg is admirable but the quixotic “Green New Deal” is too drastic for our economy to bear and it will create duress and potentially tank the economy because it is drastically overweight and an encumbrance on relatively free properly micromanaged and macromanaged economies that fuel speculative booms and provide bonanzas for inventive ingenuity in the arena of conservation science. We need geotechnic optimization on a global scale that asks of the people but does not mandate them to use providence and husbandry without asseverating ridiculous ploys to curb necessities like air travel and agricultural waste from cows like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez suggests. We should create infrastructure projects but ensure that they mobilize proliferative on a moderate scale (that doesn’t ruin the private sector or indebt our nation too much with a debt burden growth) rather than boondoggles of stagnation that provide decent wages but only marginal gains in our strategic leverage to mobilize our resources with celerity tact and central command. We should consider multilateral agreements with the world that address these issues with dedicated science at the forefront of the vanguard propagating renewable energy and, in some cases providing means for nuclear power in areas that are not seismically vulnerable and well-contained. Nevertheless my heavy suspicion is that Donald Trump (in a widely jeered move misunderstood by many but obvious to the delegated diplomats more privy to the tertiary aims and secondary burdens lopsided against United States commitment despite the fact that the majority of the rambunctious ramshackle pollution is propitiated in a benumbed negligence among countries that should find more reasons to be obligated to a fairer agreement that doesn’t shortchange the United States) I firmly believe Trump withdrew because he realized a global problem was being levied with intolerable onerous burdens of an extremely lopsided bureaucratic mismanagement of a problem that needs to be shifted to many countries with a greater fairness in shared moral duty to carve a prosperous environmentally-centered priority.
The future starts here with us right now recognizing that we need to be smart but not hasty in development of deliberatively expedient by gradually phased geotechnically sound architecture and greenhouse farming in urban regions that can create urban forests for both verdure and pulchritude. Nevertheless because of corporate demands there should be zero impetuous mandates placed on any major corporations, but minor subsidies should be provided to encourage global outcomes. We will be greatly enhanced if to the Amazon and Africa (which needs some leveraged aid) to provide the leverage necessary to combat the aleatory vagaries of conflagration by creating fleets of airplanes armed with powerful agents of extinguishing chemicals that don’t endanger the topsoil even though most are proven innocuous.
The best way to secure a clinched future is to prevent unwieldy economic factures that obvolute the problem by departing too drastically from a free market model that emphasizes designing non-ergonomic structural models for architecture and infrastructure and to ensure that the process of recycling is a net decrease in emissions by streamlining the recycling process over the course of the next four to eight years. Heavy polluters and chemical factories need stricter oversight especially in their reckless pollution of the worlds oceans and rivers and the sanitation system needs a decades-long gradate overhaul so that waste matter doesn’t contaminate the biosphere to the ultimate tragedy of degradation and rancid squalor. Ultimately CFCs are a big menace and certain chemicals contribute more heavily to ozone depletion which fuels the iterative cycles of deglaciation. Another necessity is that we mandate all major geographically distributed gas stations provide electric recharging stations so that electric cross-country car travel is more feasible incentivizing electric cars to reduce emissions. We should also create infrastructure projects in California to create high-speed rail by 2030 so that there is less car-bound cabotage on the west coast which is heavily overpopulated and profligate in their ostentation of rugged individualistic twinges that celebrate bulk and garnish the varnish of luxury but falter in their commitment to a beatific world. This will create needed jobs for the growing population of California and benefit everyone by reducing the air travel burden for local flights. We also must be wary of solvents and aerosols which damage the integrity of atmospheric conditions that could aggravate the greenhouse effect disproportionately for even small-time polluters and this problem is easier to tackle than the global imperative for expedited solutions to mobilize the economy in an efficient way without being too quixotic. Remember, however, some countries in Asia like India need more incentives to stop using fossil fuels because 14 out of the top 15 most polluted cities in the world are in India and their population boom could spell a disaster unless we provide diplomatic synergistic agreements to stem the tide or reckless over-pollution in urban mega cities in developing nations. Once we realize that the United States is not the only problematic nation in the climate change frenzy, we will realize that we need a global quorum to advise synergistic solutions without resorting to excessive taxation. Ultimately one of the best ways to address this problem is to provide incentives for India which is already a nuclear nation to start building nuclear power plants in a phased solution that can be abetted by reducing tariffs and macroeconomic incentives for a quick solution rather than a protracted endangerment of the climate. China is already working diligently to solve this problem, but more attention is needed in some megapolises in China to work for climate solutions with the rest of the world. Some suggest a Carbon Tax, but I am somewhat opposed to the idea unless it is managed carefully and not greedily by tumescent governments looking for a quick bonanza. Ultimately the easiest way to fix the climate crisis is to be very careful about chemical disposal and ensure that aerosols are widely contained with proper ventilation systems that are occluded from affecting atmospheric conditions. This can be done in a stepwise and methodical manner that does not put a burden on the chemical industry but rewards them for slightly stricter standards gradually evolving into sustainable solutions. We don’t need to mandate every gas station to have electric charging but at intermittent geographical intervals there is a necessity to have electric charging stations because they become redundant in urban areas while incentivizing electric and hybrid cars. The United States is not the main contributor to climate change and we can’t eliminate all emissions especially when they are vital to economic security, but these other measures will ensure a better future. Obviously the fossil fuel juggernaut is opposed to many of these reforms but because we exist in a world of sad conveniences that exasperate the mercurial conditions of a world endangered by the potential 22nd century mass migration of those from Bangladesh and the American South we must view some statistics with skepticism while becoming fully invested to prevent a Wall-E world because pollution is not merely a predicate of environmental debauchery but a needed imperative of biodegradable solutions and streamlined recycling that doesn’t incur such heavy energy costs in the rigmaroles of its process. Obviously partisan Republicans worry about Coal Power but such a marginal plucky insistence upon West Virginia in the need to pander shouldn’t outweigh a more global mission to educate the global populations that need to become more conscientious with an expansive conscience that many developing world mistakes require subsidized (potentially to safer degrees that aren’t an excessive drainage) solutions so that bipartisan sheen of a syncretic reform achieves a mobilized objective to restrain the scourge of pollution and inculcate (to the extent that exasperated sophistries designed to instill imperative lies of looming immediacy) the world to become more respectful of their Carbon Footprints. The easiest solutions to heal lie in chemical waste because over time these elements do not degrade and they infiltrate the Ozone Layer and are easier to phase out. The Evergreen Deal tackles many exigent problems and is not riddled by insufficient extremism but moderate bipartisan appeal. In addition we should mobilize fire brigades in every Western European country yet inured to sweltering heat that they might be better outfitted. We should abandon plastic bags and make the world geotechnic in biodegradable solutions

Brass portals,
Simmering with her
The wonder of conversations
That never occurred
Logbooks of crop seeds,
Party liquors and champa
Solvents; she seems
Like lilies
And memories of
Summer days spent
In vacated scenes

I wish for everything

we often speak of days as people
people as things
things as needs
needs as air oxygen or breath
breath as  beauty taking
our's away
away as somewhere so distant
when we are all solvents
in the atmosphere
equally a space
equally belonging
can beauty belong here
it is an ephemeral thing
like catching a sunrise
or a smile from her
life is not complicated
or harsh
just fair
it is how one grabs it by the
roots
pulls it within
plants it so deep
in one's heart
it becomes
real

there are the sticky bits that just keep turning up
solvents only do part of the job
releasing the worst of it
but there is something
a code in the DNA that enables it
to mutate and evolve
allowing it to reconvene
and find its way to your shirt front
but only the white shirts
it is more obvious
the mark clearer
and you have to scrub harder
to remove it all over again


@journeyofdays

land of the free, mostly homeless and in prison. force fed demons from the time we started breathing. now with no solutions who's part of the problem? let's solve it with some solvents and sleep through the morning. fined me wide eyed, screaming at my dreams cause i can't wake up with a fist full of hope but an empty cup.......... I've been talking to your maker and he don't give a **** so it would be best if you could just wake up, let me scream............

I have a poisoned heart
It giggles it doesn't laugh
And it wants and wants

I want to put it into a song
Have it heard a million times over

What will the census
And the bureau of statistics say?

About the poison of a poisoned heart.


I want to make it
I want to make it better
I want to be selfless, not selfish
In the light, not it the dark
It's just an idea
For an antidote
Solvents into liquid


I have a poisoned heart
I saw it's shadow in the landing
My hair was clogging up the sink
My father was studying by candlelight
Younger than me, listening to the wind

I met a girl who reads poems
Maybe I can show her what I've written here

About the poison of a poisoned heart.


I want to make it
I want to make it better
I want to be selfless, not selfish
In the light, not it the dark
It's just an idea
For an antidote
Solvents into liquid

This is for the introverted kid on his lonesome
One of Lauryn Hills lost ones
Eyes burning him down like acidic solvents
Pressed down and sprayed at for low prices like cheap deodorants
Ever-changing skintone from the haematomas
Losing friends who he's been with the closest
What's the point keep cards close to your chest if you're just gonna fold quick
Council estates have turned into war camps
Now the ends are looking like Colditz
I guess that'd explain why everyone in the bits is speaking Polish
Youths are hiding in alleyways gripping knives that are stolen
With a razor sharp focus
Aligning the moment then he zones in
An act of violence turns to a condolence
Flowers and roses
A single mothers heart is broken
Shattered and open
Tears stream that could fill an ocean
The kid was sacrificed and cut inside like Kingsley Coman
Underhand tactics used like sneaky trojans
It was for the kid I bet you
The ambience started hard but went soft like fresh fruits
Just be careful and keep those that respect you.

My hellos echo inside this black hole,
My heart’s a no call no show, down-in-the-dumps hobo;
Haunted by the ghost of your sucrose coated love.
I’ve licked my fingers down to the bone trying to
Feel it just once on my tongue again.

My brain’s a necrophage, feeding on your face
Until I can’t recognize the taste- the shape,  
You’re just a skull in a grave, and I crave
To decompose alongside you in the bed you made.

My frame has been shoved down the **** drain
And the incessant drip drops sound just like your name.

I’m a repulsive cultist drowning my emotions in solvents,
Trying to deal with the loss of the most revolting poet.

-SLuR

The slate of my life is tarnished with rust and indifference impervious to the strongest of solvents.

Waking dreams and sleep recollections scatter across the line of sanity so carefully constructed.

Looking up, looking down, the sky and land shake hands ironically in a show produced only for one.

There is no more here, not even a here to speak of. It is cloistered deep in the earth’s bank of treasures, along with peace and comfort.

Considering the inevitable, I’ll sit this one out, positioning
myself under the oak’s lush canopy with my regret-tinged heart.

Awaiting the next journey full of dust and embers.

Headlamp illuminates glass, fear has passed like summer showers
Hours and hours of waiting for you, dandelions grew in pace
A face, name forgotten, incubating heartfelt goodbyes
Forever cries to the moment, forward movement, unconscious atonement
Blowing it, down and destroyed and dead, call it a solution
Solvents fluid, plastic, pollution, unscrewing the lid to the genie jar
Listed over to far, capsize a species,  man made atomic meteors
Empathy depleting like mana, ran out of blue potions
Just a ghost to a ghost most nights, smoking under bulb lights
Waiting for the moths to come by, fly in their drunkenness
What we miss is imagined bliss, dull dragging gravity
Tattooed skull on your soul, dagger piercing tragically
One day magically the lights come on, you hear the same song for the first time
And you slip into the sublime, now, now, now

she meanders like a fire
into darkness and over the silence
around cascading waterfalls
she pools at the bottom of your heart
then she’s gone again
as quick as she arrived
she flees from her own form
softer than a rain storm
shallower than a puddle
her magic remains active
in the thunder’s hunger
for another thousand years of slumber
i strum the guitar
sit up by the fire
and speak words of broken music
solvents could never
dissolve these misplaced feelings
servants shine our shoes
against the backdrop of the news
swarms of silent reveries
humanities dismemberment
our agreements forgotten and gone rotten
like cattle in the slaughterhouse
our trust is rusted like copper left out in the rain
melted into liquid castings
i embark on the outgoing tides
side with the devil and you are bound to fall
so even after all the ups and downs
and years of underground living
we return to the fire of the sun as a new material
a type of clay ready to be burnt
a piece of wood that is quick to smoke
stoked by love’s hands
standing out or in
i shall never know
the loudness of the echo
the mountains or the rainbow’s demolition
strategies broken by time’s indecision
situations mistaken
as if they were not awakened yet
i am getting wet
standing in the rain
and snakes are dancing on the lawn

It’s Pretty CLEAR That...
...... NONSENSE....
Causes Us... PROBLEMS... !!!

But Some Are Caused...
By MORE Than Flaws... !!!

Some Are Displayed...
Because of Our Age...

Ya See When Young Lacking Experience...
Can Make Your Problems... SERIOUS... !!!!

When Old Well Ya Know...
The Old Memory... Goes..........

And That Can Cause Problems...
That Can’t Be Fixed By Solvents...

Or Drugs Like... Coc’...
So....... SLOW That Roll....  !!!

Before It Takes A TOLL...
On Your Body And Soul... !!!
Like... BROKEN Bones...
As Old Age GROWS... !!!
That CREATE HOLES  ...
BEYOND Your Control.... !!!!!!

... Some YOU CAN....  !!!

But You Have To Plan...
To Leave PROBLEMS ******... !!!
BEHIND Doors You SLAM... !!!

But Problems RISE...
If You’re NOT WISE... !!!
And Choose To Live Life...
Using LIES As Your Guide... !?!

You See The Problem With LYING...
Is That It Leaves The TRUTH DYING... !!!

Which Can Be PROBLEMATIC...
If You Face AUTOMATICS...
And PROBLEMS That Are TRAGIC... !!!

Because You Couldn’t MANAGE...
TRUTH That Causes... DAMAGE... !!!

To LIES That CLEARLY RAVAGE... !!!
MUCH More Than CANNIBAL Savage... !!!!!

You See CARELESS Acts....
Can Breed PROBLEMS... !!!

............. FACT......... !!!!!

Indeed... Hollywood Clans...
Seem To USE Their Hands...
In... " Various Acts “...

That Cause PROBLEMS...
That Revolve Around ***... !!!!!
And ABUSIVE Ends That Some RESENT... !!!

But Enough About THEM...
And Their World of Pretence... !!!!!

As I Said BEFORE...
PROBLEMS Come FORTH... !!!
When Age Resorts...
To Affecting Our Minds... !!!

Believe PROBLEMS RISE...
To The Point Where You Find...
That You CAN'T Memorise... !!!!!!

Poetic Designs From INTRICATE Rhymes...
Like These That I Write And Sometimes Recite...

It’s A Problem Designed...
By Old... Father Time... !!!

Now A Lack of Vision....
Is A Problem Conditioned... !!!

To KEEP You Blind...
And UNABLE To Find...
A Way For Your Eyes...
To Retain CLEAR SIGHT...
When It Comes To The Plight...
of.... Relationship STRIFE...

ESPECIALLY When...
It Involves A CHILD... !!!

But Those Are Lines...
For Another Time...

... As Are PROBLEMS...
Caused By The Feds' And Governments...
And Nowadays YES CERTAIN Presidents... !!!

And That Right There...
Is Simply Where...
This Piece Should END.

That I’ve Called....

... “ PROBLEMS “...

On my shoulder the entire weight of the world I attempt to heft. From future events this trauma has created a theft just know that even with my very last breath I couldn't get any further left. So far left I may never get right. My eyes are quiet gifted in their sight I need a little light just to illuminate the night. The flames in my hell dwindled down and now they don't burn as bright.
Looking for some kind of solace perhaps salvation a world shaking transformation not a simulation but a completely new creation. I may need some confirmation. Indeed I need more information. My patience is short supplied awake sitting on my bed entirely wide eyed everything almost dead inside. Where good and evil were never meant to coincide no one left in which I care to confide my all too frequent thoughts of siuicide. I pray God let's all these transgressions slide die or ride ride the pride right on through to the other side. I am so ready to go back but not to what it was, I can do this much for my cuz just because.
Not like it was before now with myself I'm not so much waging war. I got used to guts glory and gore. More than that I fear losing sight of what I'm fighting for. Cracks in my moral code buried deep inside my very core.  God opens a window when he slams a door. To the heavens above I implore. I know I can handle whatever date destiny has in store. With every word myself  my soul I outpour. I'm not even sure what to do anymore
The personality I display is not the person I am trying to portray but the person the beasts I conjure continuously betray. Life ful of so much discord and everything is in such disarray cover the stench of decay with deaths bouquet. While like a burning out flame I flicker like I will soon fade away it's all so **** cliche cannot seem to forever hold these demons at bay always it does not matter what I say it is just the same old **** on a different day. No one last listens to me anyway. To prevail I'll have to somehow find another way. Until then I will just breathe and pray. Fatal feelings emotions raw and bare auditory hallucinations wondering if anyone here right now is even really there. There is not another hell that could ever  seem to compare. Spill my secrets I will not dare awake still haunted by my latest nightmares but who the **** cares. might ought to beware when my temper begins to flare I am all about the opportunity and the air. The dead do not seemingly just stare. The hurt is something I don't care to share as I sink into the depths of my very despair. Apparently I am losing bits of myself everywhere.
Near tainted moonlight does not shine into the room there's nothing cutting though this gloom crushed under the weight of the pending doom. Sealing the room like a concrete tomb. Prior activities I assume are safe to resume. Sweat and *** hang thick in the air like a new perfume. Colorful like a peacock's plume don't inhale the solvents toxic fumes the end may be coming all too soon  silvered underneath the eclipse of a neon moon all red assed like a **** baboon acting like some dumb ******* Buffon higher than a **** balloon all drawn out animated like a **** cartoon. It's is all surreal. I can't describe what I even feel spinning around til I start feeling ill the wounds I forever carry never seem to heal. What's the ******* deal If you ask me the whole ordeal is losing it's appeal so please Someone remind me what is even ******* real. the true me I must conceal.
Three parts already dead twisted thoughts run rampant inside of my head. Addiction thoughout my family this disease is widespread. Decency I probably don't have a single shred.
I may continue to stick with just what I know. Rocking this **** bowl. Slowly again losing control. Impossible to console the colder I get the older I grow. Vast hole in my dark desolate soul places I often travel to even angels fear to go shadows pull at me from somewhere down below. I'm more concerned with finding my blow so incomplete how could I ever feel whole.
These drugs that I abuse this ****** up way of life I chose. It's all just an excuse a crutch I use. I once had completely  different views but now it's all usually just more bad news memories I confuse I am better off wheny demons turn me loose.
So much that I have lost will one day be found. Nothing and no one can continue to hold me down I'm going to turn it all around. Come back up from the very ground. No more white noise for me to drown blaring in stereo surround sound. To the ties that bind by blood I am bound. Ambitions guarded by this nefarious hellhound. Myself I still somehow astound thought rather profound.
I am not Silver I'm Tarnished her evil ******* twin another washed  up has been stuck inside the costume I wore way back when. Headed right around the bend being serenaded by the wind. Notify my next of kin that I am heading for the ****** bin for attempt to slay the beast with just a bobby pin. Uncomfortable in my own skin sitting here in a world of make believe and pretend.