The mythical ethereal tree balancing 9 parallel dimensions uniquely different to our own. In perfection the equilibrium of its natural power gives life to the heavens fruit to the earth and water to the stars. A holy reverent insignia a symbol of justice and order the tree itself is the embodiment of the individual soul of God. The root of the tree is indestructible and immortal. It's branches flourish thru the cosmos and it's splendor can be seen from the most far away star. Deep within a Heavenly Realm the tree has its resting place. Secluded and alone from the rest of the Heavenly host. Alone only God himself is allowed to visit it's hidden location. Three Querubins watch over the tree at all times never allowed to leave their post. This is known as the "Mother Tree" part of the core to God's soul.

The wisdom and freedom the tree itself carries is superior than the one God has. Henceforth, if the tree were to get destroyed somehow Gods immortality will seize to be. For the fruit that the tree carries grants it's consumer immortality and limitless power to control time, space, creation. The power of destruction is only given to those who have earned it thru endless evil delegated from deep within their corrupted soul.

The perfect creation a Querubin made in Grandiose Splendor... Insurmountable power yet inferior to his Creator. Deep within the Chariot Of God Lucifer plotted to take down God and take 4 million Angels from Gods heavenly Army. In total God had 12 million Angels protecting Heaven and its contents. So Lucifer being in the hierarchy bracket of the Angelic Host Beginning with the Master Angel known to be the primordial spirit also known as the Holy Spirit a being that Humans can feel Angels can't see or hear him but they can also feel multirealitic presence for he inhabits all the 9 parallel dimensions. He is the Main Chief Executive Master of All Angels Heavenly Creatures and Heavenly Host including Gods only begotten Son Jesus Christ. From a time when time and matter didnt exist antimatter was the only thing present in the Unique Dimension
That God alone and nothing resided there because is known as the Reflection Master Black Hole it means only God knows the code to enter this dimension separated from all the other 9 Dimensions for this are the 10th and 11th Dimension the 10th being a place so miniature and so undescribably small that his particle alone existed there. The 11th dimension a dimension that only God himself knows what's inside for it is told by an Ancient Rumor that there is something beyond eternity and immortality something beyond the scope of limits and limitations powers and imagination of even knowledge of all heavenly host combined even to Jesus it is not permitted to enter this realm for whatever is being held there puts his life at risk and his immortality at stake. For only Yahweh holds *Ultimatum Immortalis or known as Ultimate Immortality the unique gift to live anywhere where his imagination and force of power is able to roam and create or destroy. Even it it's made from the massive unexplainable and inexplicable force that a supermassive black hole has. Pressure and Force unknown to man and for us to calculate even the smallest black hole in the universe its size force and power is mysteriously unexplicable and unobtainable now let's take a supermassive one which is out of our rational thinking and yet so much so more mysterious than the ordinary black hole. Knowing God alone all knowing and unknowning in the Multiverse the deepest most illusive and superior knowledge known to man and even God alike is who created the Book of Life there everything containing life has a word a meaning and a unique life attribute and death attribute vibration in the multiverse.  

The Only One containing neither attribute eeriely is God also known as Yahweh or Emmanuel and to some Creator. For eternity has not immortality and immortality supposedly has a destruction point and the final letters which are seven secret letters that unlock and relock dimension 11th to be opened or closed so that destruction won't consume all realms and God himself.

From then on nothing more is known to Angel, Demon, Man or Beast or Ethereal being...

Seven trillion years had passed since the beginning point of creation when God alone had created the dimensions >6.9< being his primordial creation the Son along with the Holy Spirit and in latter time came the Heavenly Beings and even later time extraterrestrial species and mankind. God ruled over all parts of the Heavenly Kingdom which consisted of 8 different parts. The Altar and Courtroom of God's heavenly host located in the North Side of the Heavens. The Majestic Garden placed in the Northeast of heavens. The palace of the Grandiose Predecessor God of the Old and Savior of all existence known to God himself as the Original God speculated to be the creator of the Book of Life who's immortal existence and Ultimatum Immortalis was destroyed by unknown reasons to all except Yahweh. This particular place is located in the Northwest of heavens. In the Southeast part of heaven lies all the heavenly creatures. Including 3 dragons with celestial beauty and tremendous power. The first Dragon had a Dark pigmentation and red smoke emanating from his body his eyes where red like the color of blood. The second one had transparent crystalline like skin and golden eyes. The Final Dragon was a small petite dragon flying I n between the two big dragons small in figure but very radiant in light he had 13 halos on his head and 12 wings... Five mighty beast like where also in the room. The first was a lion head with griffons wings and a rattle snake tail the second beast had a face of an eagle with a body of a cheetah and the tail of a scorpion the third had the face of a elephant with the body of a human being decorated with precious stones and mir. The last creature had the body of a giant with 8 arms and five legs he had a mysterious glowing mask on that revealed 4 faces each with a unique expression on their sculpture. From there there was a long corridor that lead to the southwest side of heaven in this place was a city made out of Gold the floor made out of platinum and it was really bright and shiny everywhere. I could see mansions as far as the eye could take you all prepared for the saved and rescued souls Jesus had gathered on Earth. From there we visited the South side of heaven where 12,000 Querubins 25,000 Seraphim's and 75,000 Messenger Angels gathered listening to Arch-Angel Nathaniel stood giving direct orders to all the Angels gathered. In the middle was a huge rupture on the floor that from what I heard Nathaniel say leads to one of the 8 Circles of Infernus the hellish realm of all condemned Angels who had revealed or betrayed God. It is said that God did not create hell but that it had always been there locked away and kept contained and under surveillance by all Warrior type Angels. The Angels that had been in missions and had taken a trip down to that Dark and Infernal place a place of pain and horror a place of solitude and no presence of God anywhere to be found the majority of them revealed or had turn their faith from God and became a Demon but the ones who had come back victorious and conquered within are a selected few and lived to tell the tale. As this speech was going on Lucifer was preparing to give out a speech in the throne room for him being Speaker Of the House and the the Second Commander of Platoon Squad Army of Angels composed of 1.8 mil Angels with the 2 other Arch Angels known as Jarvan and Krylinn. Arch Angel Jarvan is first in command then comes second in command Lucifer and lastly but not least the beautiful warrior angel known as Krylinn Elite Angel Squad #6 composed of 4 Arch Angels who took down a Legendary Beast in Infernus known as Inrah

Inrah resides in the 7th Circle of Hell...a collosal beast with tremendous power Part Demon and Part Angel it's a hybrid Demon 11 ft tall with 9 wings a small wing emanating from his head and four wings in his right side on his back and another four wings from the left side of his back.  Each wing had a natural element 2 made out of ice another 2 made out of fire another 2 made out of thunder and the last 2 made out of earth. The small wing made out of Shadow. From what the Angels could see Arch Angel Valerye Arch Angel Leona Arch Angel Krylinn and last member Arch Angel Sebastian. Each Arch Angel had a Legendary Equipment on Sebastian he weilded a Heavenly Crossbow with precious stones on it. A light armor to be able to move efficiently and quickly Sebastian is a Master Archer LvI for there being three levels of mastery in total and only 777 Angels made the cut to become a LvI Mastery Archer Angel. In the bracket of the Angelic hierarchy there is Levels of Power, Skill and Tactics. The Levels range from Messenger Angels range from Lv1-Lv150 max 200. Seraphim's range from Lv200 to 450max Lv. Querubin range from Lv400-750 and the unique couple known as Lucifer and Querubin Morrigan who's power ranges from Lv475 to Lv800 and Lucifer from Lv500 to Lv850. Arch Angels range from Lv500 to Lv1000. God's Lv? Lv?. The Son Jesus Christ has a power level of Lv1000 who he himself has Elite gear Legendary gear and lastly Juggernaut gear. His partner Arch Angel Leona she wilded a Heavenly sword shield and Special Heavenly Attributes to use a doppelganger. Her Armor was Legendary. Armor Levels Regular Lv1-150 Rare Lv150-300 Elite Lv300-375 Legendary Lv375-500 Master Lv500-800 and Unique Lv 800-1000.  The Third member of the Group Krylinn was wearing a hybrid armor made out of glass/blue crystals a specially made glass so powerful it's Lv is Unique. She was wearing a Heavenly gun with a Heavenly wip. Lastly the final member of the group Warrior Valerye also known as her nickname Grand Valkerye of the Heavens for her wings are slightly bigger and her body anatomy is muscular. She wore a platinum armor with a large Heavenly Sword. From what it seemed it was a two handed weapon. Each Arch Angel range from 6ft to 8ft rare ones 8 and a half. This Hybrid demon however could talk each of their Angelic Tribe Language...and they where all surprised. Inrah being from the Southwest side of heaven had revealed over 2 years ago and was never seen in Heaven anymore but now he had resurfaced more powerful and a total corrupted Arch Angel who's level was Lv502-747 now he possessed a Lv of 1000. There it floats slowly but directly toward the Angels ... About 400 ft away floating in mid air and slowly depending to the ground of Infernus. To the Left what seems like a Lunatic Army of Lesser demons all decapitated and a Demon Lord killed deep within a crater of Infernus. Telepathically the Hybrid demon Inrah said to them in their native Angelic lenguage "Come form a pact with me and obtain Ultimatum Immortalis by me consuming your delicate feeble and frail immortal link between you and the spirit of God...hahaha you cannot defeat me."

Valerye looks at Sebastian in an instant like .4 seconds Inrah disappears and reappears so quickly that his immediate attack punching Valerye in the face and leaving a small bruise and a cut...As soon as she put her eyes back into focus with Inrah he lays headless in the ground It was Lv4 Cosmic Light Arrow that hit him directly in the forehead...says Sebastian to Valerye who still rubbing her eyes due to the force of the punch...9 seconds later ...
Valerye: -Inside her head...I hear something as they where 366 ft away from Inrah who Sebastian and Krylinn checked his head and it was literally browned to pieces skull and all. Even his power level diminished slowly right after getting killed...or so they thought as much. Then Valerye quickly teleported directly in front of Inrah and suspected the worst his whole head was slowly rebuilding and reviving itself so before she even asked for help from the others they teleported directly to her location in front of Inrah. As his head was slowly yet increasing speed as time moved on from second to second so Krylinn took out her gun and shot him in the head about 100 times...then took out her special weapon the RocketGalacticGun equipped to be a minigun and a rocket launcher. So she used all her attacks on the body of the demon dispersing his body parts everywhere...it was a grotesque scene. The main part of the demon the torso was heavily damaged exposing parts of heart lungs and backbone. The wipp made huge holds with gushy wounds everywhere one lash hit Inrah so hard that it cut off his whole arm. They all looked at the extensive heavy damage they done to the Powerful ArchFiend. They all communicated to each other and agreed that Inrah's power level had hit 0 and they have waited 5 minutes for him to pull a stunt and reform but nothing so as soon as they come to agreement to leave the exact moment they decided that telepathically to each other Inrah pieces of flesh started to move and we're turning a metallic silverish goldish color. They tried to stop it but all of their attacks where somehow ineffective. Then they looked at the pieces all gathered in the ground they slowly started flossing and at first creating a small transparent shield slowly turning the color black till it was pitch black and huge about 25ft tall and 30ft wide. It then all the sudden standing in woe the Angels saw the horribly demonic ugly and ferocious zombie dragon. Green blue and red in color with soars all over the dragon licking fluid from the soars and this transparent white smoke coming from it. It had perfect denture but it was putrid and smelled like sewer waste and water. Yellowish black smudges and smears all over the dragons teeth. It roared and it's powerful battle cry made the Angels be a bit uneasy and scared to some degree...

The dragon with a whopping power level of 1000 yet Valerye a Lv 787 Berserk Warrior Angel couldn't dodge the attack of the monstrous dragon which spat a bubble of toxic liquids with a mixture of awful fumes that hit Valerye and she crashed to the ground...all the others came to her rescue...Sebastian using the Heavenly Crossbow Explosive Holy Rod Shots being the biggest and most heavy arrow with a powerful explosive ability creating a whole in it'd victims. The dragon oddly stood there calm and getting hit by the shots which where 5.  He shook his body as the last rod arrow hit him and wow only 1 stuck his body penetrating his body creating a wound and it gushing green thick with bluish lines liquid from its body. As Krylinn was hitting the dragon in the face causing it a couple lacerations. Trying to shot him in the Eye Krylinn gets smacked by the dragons hand and crashes to the ground cracking part of its armor. They telepathically get communicated by the dragon and he says "You shall not win this battle Angels for I have trained long and hard for 2 and a half years ever since I left heaven to seek for more complete power. Now you shall bear the fruits of my training. Now die...

*In the second part of this sequel we will review what happens to the Angels and with the speech Lucifer will conclude to give in Heaven in the Throne Room.

There was a time when it served me well to forget the times
When they were fresh to devestate
Hard times, mean times, time to forget but the memories wouldn't stay buried
For too long
It took a long time to keep them from escaping the soul-locked box I stuffed them in
Hoping, they would rot inside
Losing, with the passage of time, the power they weilded
What damage had been done would eventually be credited to other foes
But that's not quite what happened

**

There is a soul-locked box sits in the center of all I know
With no labels or any way to guess what might be inside
Be it wonderful or wicked
Light as a feather
Stinking, moldy air?
Ashes, fine powder weightless?
A black hole vacuum just waiting for me to open it
For to be ****** down and in to the times for which it was spawned

I don't know what's inside but this I do know:
It's something important
A missing piece of a huge jigsaw puzzle that covered my grandmother's coffee table
An instinctive aversion to Thursday nights at 9:00 o'clock
A resolution to never again defend the Bible to bullies
A plastic bag filled with flour, snorted like *******


I don't know what's inside, but I do know this:
It's something important
A casual observer forced to take sides to help a weak man win
A look in the eye only noticed through hateful glaring and if eyes are truly the window to the soul...
A new meaning to the phrase "looks that ****"
A wet pillowcase still warm from muffled curses

I don't know what's inside, but this I do know:
I'm afraid of knowing
Because I think I DO know and now I don't want to
I remember pain and disappointment, fear and contempt
A loathing for someone who may or may not have deserved it
Someone with a set of excuses every bit as valid/worthless as mine
I'm afraid of the possibility ithat those excuses don't amount to anything
That forgiveness somehow got lost in the shuffle and someone went to heaven without mine
And I can only pray that there was a time he repented and forgave me in his own mind

Because I have a strong suspicion
That forgiveness is the key to the soul-locked box
In the Spirit, let the breeze dissolve the molding, rotten air
Let the Wind, which no man knows which way it comes or which way it goes, dissolve ashes into ether

I long to find out the times, torn from the fabric of time
Memories alive but unconsciously ignored
You tell me you can tear down those walls
I say Ignorance is Bliss

I took something away from you
It could have saved your life
Or made it more bearable
But I snatched it away
I crushed any hopes you may have had
That it could have helped
All the well knowing, even myself
It would have

Why was I such a *******?
What did I think I was saving?
What?
Some barely recognized cruelty
I'm loathe to acknowledge
But knew even as I weilded fear
To set you back
Reinforce the notion fixed in your mind
That I am a tyrant
I think you are probably right

And if I am a tyrant
The weight of my offense haunts me and drags me down
I only wish I was strong enough to recognize
DO something about it, usurp my power
If all it is good for is destruction

The regret nests in my chest
Squeezes my heart tightly
Pulls tears from my eyes
A secret agony, a transgression never to be confessed
What have I done?
I cannot, no matter how hard I try, convince myself
That I've done the right thing
Like a good father taking away a favorite toy
To punish
God, I pray somehow he can get it back
Even if I'm not the one who can return it
I would let my trespass fester, rot inside me
If only someone else would give it back to you
Or something better

God is getting tired of hearing me pray for forgiveness
For my persistent petition betrays my lack of faith
His forgiveness was granted the first time I asked
I'm still begging after 3 days
Impossible, it seems, to forgive myself
With this regret crawling inside me, will I ever be able to?

My son, take this guilt from me
Spare me my life
That I might be able to live again without this black hole in my heart
Quickly, cut and dig, yank it out
Resurrect my hope, let me dream,
Before it's too late, before I lose you to the world

Son, you are my hero

Why am I sitting here writing this ******* poem, nothing but a ******* poem, do they have such power? I don't remember poems breaking me down, let alone a poem I'm writing a poem I'm not even finished with a poem that hits me hard like a ******* sledgehammer in my heart, hating myself for writing something so ******* pretentious as "sledgehammer in my heart" and wondering if I should have written "sledgehammer TO my heart", every bit as pretentious and with not a whit of power to stop the tears from flowing and oh, my god, I think I'm speaking in tongues this brutal truth, who do I think I am, is this my reward for taking it away from him and yes I deserve this and a lot more and I fear that I will get a lot more if I don't let it out in some other manner than a ******* poem, a ******* impotent poem a ******* poem that has broken me and brought me to my knees, ******* impotent poem, I should leave the poetry to you because YOU are the one with the gift, YOU are the one with the talent, YOU are the one with the heart and mind to create something worth bothering with and I never meant to take THAT from you, but I took away your paper and I took away your pen and I took away one more shred of respect you may have had left for me, and Oh God I Miss You, and Oh God I Miss You and I can't wait until you get home this afternoon so I can be reminded of why I miss you or no, no, that's not quite right, just trying to sound poetic, what a laugh, what a joke, I Miss You when we're in the same room, if I didn't know that there was a little love left, or if I didn't think I had reason to hope there was a little love left in your heart for me, I would find a way to sleep. I'm settled down now. It's okay, no need to call the cops. I'm done with this poem. This ******* poem that has

Opened my eyes
Made me realize
The weight of my offense
My transgression in need of confession
(But to whom?)
That God had better just get used to my prayers
That
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY
I HATE POETRY

so please excuse me, i have no history going back as a roman invasion... unfortunately i came from the Atilla throng... i utilise your phonetic encoding like any barbarian might.... more in love with it, than with the women who use it casually in everyday talk; i'm so sorry that i can't use your phonetic encoding as peacefuly as i might to start a family, and keep the fading ritual...  i am prone to the mongol practice akin to: invade and quickly fade... which is also akin to: not invade, build an empire, quicken a false fire... and sadly never fade away; e.g. russia, america.

you have a basis of crucifying a man
who has no (a) history of a roman past
(b) a roman  phonetic / optometric
encoding, with a slight deviation
of (ć) - who am i? the wave from Siberia,
neither Mongol, nor Vandal,
of what tribe, am i? collectively known as Slav,
it is said my women
   were harrowed from their
nests like birds akin to the cuckoo....
  and where my national pride: you ask?
me know either.. if there were any.
    poetry is something
you call: trying to be an artist
while, at the same time,
          not becoming a plumber,
or a painter.
oh dear, painters are worst,
unless they paint a cubic-mono-chromatic
i have na value for them shoud
they be an example
of a categorical imperative....
there bartablondine roamed in thought:
  and bemoaned:
        higher the cabbage-head
rise above the caulifloiwer...
as said name:
            a saxon knife with writ...
on a blade:
        fay-far-goron!
                        poets never hear
of mention under banner, or worth a
weilded sword...
  to no defeat, as there is one assured:
but to engaging with a memory in thought
as needing statue...
           or said the one bound to betray
either thinking from doing,
  or memory and imagination from doing less
and thus doing thrice,
    such be the communal tongue...
  that the females go unto a searching...
and i be the last remaining seagull...
so unto the conglomorate of man...
              all our peace with individuals,
personalities and the likes be gone....
    they are dust, broken bricks, rust
and rabble...
                             i have no flavour for them...
or in different rhymes of war:
the women precede the auxiliaries -
we claim of woman once the need for axe,
but hardly her need to blood-thirst her genitals...
   lions lax...
            and watch the vulture-democracy
unfold:
   scower fools! scower!
                   led by bribe and death-threats alone!
i see but the ghosts of the pentagon *Krzyżtopór:
what bone, what marrow,
there too laid a cement, a ceiling,
                a brick as bone...
                       to keep both hope of skeleton
and if not skeleton: a castle... a cruxifix-axe,
so in italics named... crux alias ascia:
or said compound...
           Krzyżtopór - Krzysztof...
christopher... some might have said:
a loved one, circa 1392 a.d.
       but not here, not now.
anything but Mongol,
    and i am here, and i am but a figment
of ink in a pond of bleach...
        i am Sting:
a Pole in a London...
               you toast, i roast...
       well... it might just be not exactly London,
the smog got me...
                  when a Greek idea
of city-state explores too much ethnic ground,
  London might have grown to be that,
but Berlin, Tokyo nor Mehico City didn't...
      now no farmer in me either...
so.... come the rotten apples and maggoty
potatoes...
                     and if it wasn't for being
a kid having moved to england
and seen my parents reach their status...
i don't know where i would have lived...
just watching these perfectly smug poles
come to university killed off my idea of
struggle...
                        and i never got it back...
the worst decision in my life came
packaged, an idea of a suitcase...
   came with the words: get educated...
   no... learn to make money...
  learn to turn mountains into pebbles,
learn to make pebbles into sand...
learn to make sand into dust...
            i love how the English fake being
immigrants in America...
lazy buggers never care to learn a new tongue...
or how Americans settling in Italy
call themselves as expat...
         because they really love to drink
that espresso 25ml.
                   me? where do i belong?
given my posture and care to speak very little?
on the Faroe Isles.
               Poland feels more obscure these days
esp. when i speak the tongue without an accent...
now i wish i lived in England and had
an accent... maybe with an accent i could
make it...
             there's actually no point in me trying...
     if there ever was:
              it was when it was me being human...
    now that i'm considered to be nothing
more than: the death of death...
                i have all the sentences i write
from scratch, as if prompt, to ensure i am
the last reigning magician.

Some will walk away their cares as if they walk up or down the stairs into or out of oblivions face as their mask of poetry falls from place onto the floors with checkered squares that are covered and littered with their words like flares from phrases of I don't care punctuated with the stuffings from ripped apart stuffed bears flogged by improper English weilded stares as imperfect hands in braile will yell skin deep in demeanor not so hard to tell or keep and no doubt to all I have to say as I wave my hands goodbye good day.

Lets talk
About my power
Its very simple
And very common
We all use it
A pen.

Writting words
Of pain
Love
Joy
Hope
On paper
This powerful tool
Has been weilded by many.

It has the power
To tear countries apart,
Bring about peace
And put into place
Laws to protect
Us and the future
Of lands.

I can write with it
And hurt everyone around me
I have done it
Many times over
Now the final bit of power
I weild from it
Will be my own undoing.

So be careful
With this power
Protect and use it wisely
This pen can create
Or destroy
Which will you choose?

She was never apologetic about the fact that she kissed him like she hated him.
As if by some strange spell her kisses were slowly poisoning him from the inside out
And then one day he would pass away and no one would be the wiser.

And just as she imagined her kisses had the power to ****, they also had the power to bring to life; but she was less fond of that feature.
She didn't want to fix things.
She preferred to break them because so many other people spent their whole lives fixing.
Destruction was something of a natural instinct to her.
To anyone really, but especially her.
She didn't need to be taught how to break things.
And there was far less competition in this category.

So she kept on kissing, and one by one the boys dropped dead. Always boys, never men.
Because they shrank to a shell of their former selves when they kissed her.
They hollowed out so that the wind howled through them, echoing against frailing bones.
All their insides drying up with every dart of her tongue, which she weilded like a sword.

Aug 21 2017

That girl, she looks like me
Her empathy runs deep
For the broken and bereaved
Shes the type to give her all
But broken angel always falls

She's the type to be used and abused by the one that she loves
Her constant compassion just wasnt enough
She gives
He takes
She thinks its fate
It aint her way to make mistakes
Her friends say wait
Wake up things aint the way he might portray
But she stays anyway
Not seeing her boundaries being crossed every day
Her money being tossed away

But the other woman got jealous
She wanted him to tell her its just us
She tried to wait but she got fed up
Decided to tell on him, show the other ***** whats up

Images that cant be unseen
Insides writhe with fury, pain beneath
Buried deepseated beliefs broken
It set her free
See, * the ties that bind us
Are woven with obligation and guilt
All those years behind us
Even the best relationships built 
With reciprocity
But when you stop and see
Hes doing nothing for me
Thats when you cut ties and flee

But see guilt * is a trickster
Bungee cord it snaps her back
Now she thanks the heavens
For her sharpest weapon
Seven women weilded well
Cuts through guilt that kept her held
And now she is the angel fell
Now first, * she always minds herself
Call it selfish, i call it healthy
No longer soft and lost, her sight is keen
Not beaten, not free, but somewhere in between
Better than average, shes mean
The nuances of trust lost etched like a map across her gaze
She is always thoroughly unfazed
That girl, she looks like me

Have you ever seen
Death
Right before your eyes?

Taking someone
You care about
Right before your eyes?

I have
I've stared Death right in the eyes
I watched him take her from me

After she was taken
I couldn't watch him be taken too
I couldn't look at death again
I'd go crazy
Staring into the voids of eyes
That it weilded

Nothing but darkness
And abyss
Nothing but
Death
And
Destruction

I could feel fire within its very soul
It burned and consumed all it saw
Nothing was safe from it

You couldn't run
Only wait for it to close in
Only wait for it to stab its scythe through you

No one knows it
None of my friends
I was emotionless that day
I'm scared of what they'll say
Will I be a freak?
Will I be a pariah?
I can't tell them

They would call me
A freak
A demon
A sociopath

Maybe that is what I am
I hope not
I hope I have emotions
And not just faked feelings

I hope I have emotions
But all I could do is watch
And wait
And not feel

-

the n.s.a. boys ought to know, after all, shuttle in space? no ******* carpenter could do that one... the MEA CULPA ******* is... spoken on... DEAF... EARS; i.e., if there is an "i", there most certainly is a: you.

and what's wrong with the imitation
of st. peter via van gogh?
                   two ******* ears?!

they call him the christ church of
the open heart,
       a heart open, in a pose of
being crucified,
   by modern standards,
        that's man, with a heart
as an iron maiden,
      sitting in a chair,
           pretending he's posing
for a ****.

no point grinding your teeth son,
if, you don't have a rifle.

          answer: give me a pistol
and i'll show you how
the guillotine, that *****-of-a-mother
of napoleon didn't give
birth to him...

        and because girls go left,
and the boys go right...
         we can have elemental
attire, post-scriptum vive -
         men don the earth,
women don the fire...

          and that's H, H similis,
Y: breathes the air,
      W: move the waves...

           ah, my modern lepers,
volunteers for the "cause"...
           vetrans are our modern lepers...
but then again, who would
know what the sand-she-imp
says, when wars are no longer
faught with brute, axe and sword,
but by mere bling, bling bling...

           as soon as paper money is
devauled, so will the toys, weilded...
  no one has ever thought
it worthwhile to craft mountains
from sand-dunes!
        as sahara was once a mountain
range...
             these ******* arabs
think they can fake sand with metal?

    of christ with an open heart
in a pose very much unlike a perched
crow, hunched on a rooftop
or rather man sitting in a chair...
    an open heart...
          my heart, an iron maiden...
but then again:
             in a scenario transcribed
to us...

             what is more comfortable?
the ragnarök sea at Hvalba,
            the sensible seeking for
the flight of Icarus at Lønin
                a gift of yolk,
prior to the foetus!

           does woman not understand
chicken?!
           how can you have
a moral tendon, while still
eating eggs?! sanctifying them?!
what, is wrong with, you, "people"!
you talk abortions with
a moral compass as if
  the 6 day Lønin transition
didn't take place!
          castrato sing-along...
*******... sunshines!
         daddy's whittle girrrrrrls...

egg ≠ there's a foetus inside it...
because the Faroese know
that once a spermatoid starts evolving
the egg is not to be eaten!
   break my ***** while you're
at it?  why not chop them off
and have it over and done with...

women really shouldn't eat eggs...
chicken eggs...
          or any eggs for that matter...
what?! i'm eating ******* abortions
all the ******* ****** time
and yet: sanctity!
    sacred!
                 apparently the yolk
proves the non existence of
**** *****...
                 its ooh ooh... kasper
         zee freundlichgeist!

         so why the delay the ******
matter if it's not about: lounging...
  getting happy when you're 80?!
huh?!

            came the fish, the lizard,
the hybrid lizard (bird),
       came the fish, came the mammal,
and then came, irish politics...

     how can a woman have ownership
of *****, when in birds
there's a delay period,
meaning: i'm eating a *******
yoke of egg, and i don't see not
little embryo of a whittle yella
sticking in between my teeth...

    **** me... this is one hell of a party!
are eggs abortions?
  or just the non-existent reflex
mechanism of women?
           if birds have a 6 day delay
button implanted in them...
and the Faroease people know
that...
           my my...
                      how many slaves
of ****-****-and-*****
         i see, as i walk among them.

/ pa pa don't preach, my ma ma gonna lie...
i'm hardly in love but
i'm most certainly a dependent *****...
pa pa don't preach, my ma ma gonna lie...
i'm so much, hardly in love,
i might as well... cry. /

            life's cruel, deal with it;
last time i checked...
        i think my parents lied to me that
i had a twin brother,
  that died at child-birth...
   as a child they had this lament
configuration running in their heads
with the sentence:
    in this world you have someone
who looks exactly like you...
    those exact words...
aww... but poor matti doesn't get to tell
his mournful tale...
           he just needs to hear
the ****** english in their
post-scriptum 20th angst of cities
built upon coal-mining...
       if they ever get to learn
about the atom bomb... tell me...
        maybe seeing a ******* wind-turbine
might change their xenophobic-claustrophobia
of their own, kin.

i'm still going to eat eggs,
  well "abortions"...
        6, ******* days!
                  and on the 7th?!
   god didn't rest, he created life!
    as those at the Lønin descent,
about the Fulmar will tell you.

"You make me hate myself"
I am frozen
I am paralyzed
The words seep into my brain desolving it like water over cotton candy
Like a meal to starving stray pup
Like a saline knife melting rapidly in my chest
Without warning or a time for protest I begin to feel the utter devastation overflowing a cotton candy pink ooze from my pores staining your bed sheets and then your mind.
Turmoil can be felt billowing and building beneath my fingertips which lay taut and stiff against your chest as you make every attempt to collect the broken glass, to sweep it from my under my eyelids to under the rug.
An admirable but ultimately digressive goal.
Each earnest attempt to redact the words burrows them further, more tangibly into my ears,
breaking the protective barrier named ear drum to find a lovely two story home behind my eyes.
"Talk to me"
The plea itself,
though honest and resolute robs me of the ability to make a sound in any direction, specifically yours.
The spiralling despair that becomes consciousness shrieks in discerning defiance.
My thoughts mustn't be released lest to reinforce the self hatred you've gathered from my dangerously weilded words that had so carelessly danced from my tongue to your own cotton candy solution performing a passionate display of ignorance and inconsideration
How can I know which words are rotten and which words are safe for you to eat?
How can I stand and watch, in complacency or in horror, while my speech cuts you down, chipping away what fragile pieces remaining of an already bloodied but beautiful masterpiece?
How can I continue to exist in your presence at all, knowing that every heartbeat, every breath, every kiss misplaced or not could cause such a reaction?
How do I tell you that my stomach is growling and the beast of my own self hatred smiles, knowing it too has received the promise of a meal fit for an exponential growth?
I don't
Urgent expectancy hanging in the air in a thick cloud of smoke
I fumble
flounder,
Grasping for air,
For words full bodied but empty enough to satisfy and not destroy you.
A uncalculated disaster spills from my mouth,
my words limp and painfully aware that they hold no content.
This is not enough for you.
Why is it you seem crave the blade of my tongue?
I will endeavor to dull it against every rock in my heart, mind and mouth as consequence for such a heinous crime as this.
I settle on,
"I'm just sleepy"
Unsatisfaction visibly conducting your movements as you wiggle me off your chest,
The distance between our hearts becoming personified
I lay face up, making patterns in the ceiling where you would see nothing I can see marks colored in every shade of defeat.
I watch them overlap for a time
And now
The sound of your snores seep into my brain dissolving it like water over cotton candy.