A little less than ComplicatedThe hour, past its tense.An arrow shot into the dense,eternity of a benign affection.False lightto stand my shadowwhere you pacethe clockand close to midnight,it's stays the same.we wither. we decaySynthetic,and monotoneexpressionto tear the absent fleshfacing, like nothingnesshad never been away.'chorus'Never said I love myselfwhen I stand my ground and its more than a littlefakeNever said I hate myselfwhen I drag me down and its more than a littlefakeNever said I lost myselfwhen I can't be found and its more than a littlefakeNever said I held myselfas I hit the ground and its more than a littlefake
They Yearn for an Old Glory Her story, her emblem razed and former to glory's prone. Prominence, outstretched by the arm and lambent glow. She is sluice for their hordes and athirst, a gait so impressed upon them. Their endless attain, freedom drawn and coursed to its flame, still lights the way for promises told but are never given like shadow to yarn from a destiny, gray; as are dreams, aloft from their fiery brazen. Where not a pyre now burned, not a road left paved.
Faith around her FingerThe hollow, perfect circle.A ladies perceptionmoldinginfluence to spheremy will and consolidateher finger-blinding likemadness won't remember. I sank into my chestpounding regresslyto still my heartlike thedeepest drum.I cast wearily, and fecklessuponwrath so recklessas to kiss withoutwarning- deceit,now lashedlike a tongue, hollow,and her cruelest featurehungryfor the fool that she lead,but no palate for his desire.
Global-Eyed-Nation Surveillance and world order. My ipseity.
The Winter Balladclaiming theskywas alabaster mist'sof many cloudsnowgathered graywhere wintertoiledatheavens frayfelled anearthO're frozenfearfrom silkenmesh to flurryfro'and gelidshanksthatweather cold an icy browfor whettedtearsand solstice weptinto theiryears
Love is a Memory I am the callus over your feme sole, where once we bed as lions. vestigial voraciousnostalgic is our clash to wrestle breath onto its knees and sleuthing lungs exahale the past, castratedwroththat sowthe airedacious when we roar. Audacious,now each candid ear whence whispers bathe of every liethan ever shallowed into tears.
Sunlight and Torpid Bliss.Carless nature. Pessimistic ofalabaster columns,tinctured into azures gradation and penumbra façades.Thoughtless as wings to strumthe vocal air,nor whim of its limbs.I care not about darkness aged onto the grass;Not for all the quiet hoursof a greyand thoughtless, memory.
The Pole of Two ExtremitiesI am allleft in meOurs. The sea. Died in its dream.I am whereyou left me shore unwanted of its memoriesas promises are meant to be.We could have had it alleternallyenthralled from that shit you called a heart fathomless and dark eternity to crawleternity that fall (break...)Let me find youlet me hold youlet me love youlet me kill youChorus: 2xLet us have the oceansLet drift an endless, past Let drown the shallow love of lies where once, I follow like guile, deep and endless fathoms-Made fools of the earth.break....... For lovenever meant to beWhere it ventured deepand held too tightlysmothered depths that dreamt so lightly, a darkest dream for abyss, shone brightly. I'll remain where you cannot be and breathe as you exhalethe final breathof what
Bordom has its Songtimeassortedits long hand shadowssoftand lapsebeside a gobbet of endless monotonoushymnsconditionwound by the steadywhirand puckered lip
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers thinkWe may dream our reality.With earphones attached liked IVsI dream my own melodic universe.Until someone laughs behind meAnd strikes up conversation with a friend.And in that moment they become my anchorAre they spinning through my dreamOr am I spinning through theirs?Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,And sometimes it all mixes togetherLike liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.When no one speaks to me for hoursI begin to wonderIs everyone dreaming a reality that includesThe whole café but me?The street outside the windowWith passing strangers, dogs and carsIs a whole new Milky WayWaiting to be discovered.But I am no space explorerAliens are beyond my reach.Whispers of the people aroundReach my ears distinctlyLike waves lapping on the shore.Words on paper go no wayTowards proving that I was ever hereMy identity is slowly condensedNot into the people who kno
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
pyromania.I tasted your lips sideways,and they were lit likecoals.but in reality,your breath simply hovered above the bowl,and you smiled at meas you lost control.
DaybreakI re-create my worldfrom what the moon has left hidden,soft motes and shafts of twilight,tucked away in the shadows of night.They spin like tendrils,silver wisps that trace outlinesof city streets and skylines,and spatter their traces over the pathsthat greet my feet in the morningand wake the world anew.They grow warm and feralstarting in golden buds,threading their way through fieldsand blooming in a riot of horizonthat yields up its bountyand gifts the waiting world.They make songs from scattered wordsand music that clatters from clouds,caught humming on the wings of starlings.They paint pictures with facesand colors that bloom from landscapes -all captured in the days lazy palette,swelling the world in bee sung glorywhere the sun crests its orbitand carves out the new day
tutorialtake an evening -reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.remove one atom,see what changes.take your field notes, transcribe themback to front.add line breaks.be scientific. be too scientific.replace the word 'entropy'with the word 'god'.be so full of want that you can feel itscraping its numb jaws against your insides.write about flowers instead.make your first line provocative.follow it, let it unfurl -ctrl a.del.inauthentic, try again.ctrl z.who the fuckwants authenticity?read, find inspiration.find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.stop reading.hash and rehash,slash and burn.look at the mess you've made.add punctuationas decoration.spend an hour flicking back and forth -capitalization.uncapitalization.write about family. if it hurts too little,write about flowers instead.use a word bank.cuss,kiss,switch,hit,shock,shatter,fade.write in the dark.write from within your own skull.write drunk.write your litanies.write your lines.write your
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something thatevery man seems to want. A place where she should be ableto call her own, between her legs. She feels that men only want her,a true want, to have sex with her, andwalk away. The breasts she has, they gainstares from men passing by, trippingover themselves to find a chance to touch. When will she stop being looked at,as an object of sex? when will a mansee her as someone he may spend hislife with? Her hips curve, and she doesntwant your hands on them, if yourjust going to touch her skin. She wants a man to touch her soul,not just touch her skin, and run his fingerswhere they do not belong. What made these men think, sheis just a sex object, a toy that could beput on display, and taken whenever theylike. Between her legs, lies something thatevery man seems to want. Proud she is though, that she hasntgiven in, hasnt
A White Wedding Your flowing gown ofWhite Lies.