Suffocating location of the patron of kegs,
bleeding arms and legs,
chidhood was only a phase.
Drug up and sucked up like olives out of martini's.
Teenies walking around with wobbly legs and weak knees.
Completely,
out of their order out of their nature.
Complaining that they're having no fun, they'll see you later.
Late nights with flashing lights condemned the purity full of strife to take back what was whack when they were dreaming in mid flight.
Over exposure of your love to indulge.
A little too old to be stuffing that mold.
Fuck it I'll just sit here acting sorry,
that my stupid ass isn't as fun as that fucked up party.
Maybe you'd like a taste?
Of the marionette alcohol brings out.
The tear your net but not to let you out.
Just to pout while she carves a smile upon your mouth,
straight from the rum and down into her doubt.
Wanna see me throw a fit?
While you ma relax and keep on that baby shit,
I told you I'm sick of it.
Woulld you like to touch the fire?
It burns so brightly it turns you unsightly,
wishing you didn't show up for the likely.
I'm going to show you my rage,
through dipiction on a page,
but would you know what that means?
A simple eye could defy me but your eyes are pridely.
They make me take a step back and wonder if you could try me.
Alas I doubt you could handle the mixture in this body.
It's a tornado in a can,
it's a wrecking ball made specifically for man at hand and ready to destroy.
She was truly the gold piece of he grand master's ploy.
Not a toy meant to be played with,
just something temporary to fake with.
A ticking motherfucking bomb and you won't even try?
----
my eyes hurt.
so does my heart.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
Fuck this.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Morning B
The leaves stumble from the dying trees,
huddled together on the ground before they're blown away by the breeze.
Frozen etiquette better than other's that you met,
winter just a stranger that you haven't heard of yet.
Sun spent on shining too bright for too long.
Voice cracked and wary from singing the same song.
Pawned the life breath to make life silent and spent the time becoming something priceless.
Meaning you are the only one.
The golden nature mother's womb is pointing at her only son.
Fun as it may be,
you will feel it.
The itching to flee and find someone else to talk and sit.
A lonely apple pit,
waiting for someone to stumble upon them.
A loose string on a shirt hem,
somewhere long ago you'd been.
Need a friend?
You lost them when you wouldn't find time to mend.
Striving for attention although you do nothing but defend,
your blindness.
You went from emotional to silence.
Try this,
remembering all the moments that felt timeless.
You see the faded leaves are only reborn into living beings,
like lucid dreams conjuring your favorite things.
Some may call it crazy when you're all alone,
but then again you always had the option to pick up a phone.
Or just listen to the dial tone.
It's truly up to you.
To advanced towards better anything instead of consuming all the gloom.
You need a room to run to when the demons come through.
So build a tomb and bury that seemingly everlasting doom.
Now watch the sunrise upon the spring bloom.
The buds of bright green proving love is pure and true.
That you too can be reborn into a flower or a thorn.
Do you want to amaze or do you wish to scorn?
huddled together on the ground before they're blown away by the breeze.
Frozen etiquette better than other's that you met,
winter just a stranger that you haven't heard of yet.
Sun spent on shining too bright for too long.
Voice cracked and wary from singing the same song.
Pawned the life breath to make life silent and spent the time becoming something priceless.
Meaning you are the only one.
The golden nature mother's womb is pointing at her only son.
Fun as it may be,
you will feel it.
The itching to flee and find someone else to talk and sit.
A lonely apple pit,
waiting for someone to stumble upon them.
A loose string on a shirt hem,
somewhere long ago you'd been.
Need a friend?
You lost them when you wouldn't find time to mend.
Striving for attention although you do nothing but defend,
your blindness.
You went from emotional to silence.
Try this,
remembering all the moments that felt timeless.
You see the faded leaves are only reborn into living beings,
like lucid dreams conjuring your favorite things.
Some may call it crazy when you're all alone,
but then again you always had the option to pick up a phone.
Or just listen to the dial tone.
It's truly up to you.
To advanced towards better anything instead of consuming all the gloom.
You need a room to run to when the demons come through.
So build a tomb and bury that seemingly everlasting doom.
Now watch the sunrise upon the spring bloom.
The buds of bright green proving love is pure and true.
That you too can be reborn into a flower or a thorn.
Do you want to amaze or do you wish to scorn?
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
#31011
Coffe lips,
quick stutter acid tips,
sips from the mug life,
an angel out of hell or a demon from a cell,
there's no entity here besides the single lined spell.
Conjure compulsions to cure the potion's,
harmful way of destroying the notions.
Paper skin folds like it's smothered in lotions,
no way to absorb the weight of mighty oceans.
Sea salt saint covered in a sea foam paint.
The fumes assuring that they'll taint,
air quality until you faint.
Self restraint won't help the slaughter.
You're bottled up epiphanies are best sent out to water,
best sent to join the daughter and her silly faced father.
Blotter up the page to mundanely leave this range of understanding the lame till they're contorted and strange.
No way,
I won't dance in flowers found in this field,
they wield a fragrance that will surely make you yield.
Sealed off that passage when it was harboring the snow,
NO YOU DON'T KNOW.
NO I WON'T GO.
NO YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOR THE PARTY THAT CAME BEFORE THE SHOW.
Who'da thunk your lungs were already filled to the brim,
with the hydration sack dripping into the place you contain sin.
CHOKE ON IT.
Maybe there's a reason I was never able to get up and split.
Shit.
Reality is tampered with.
I find more real things when I suck in myth.
I PLEAD THE FIFTH.
Sifting like a screen through sand in forlorn land finding gems and coins through ages they have spanned.
Bland nature taster building the reserve for later,
holding the lined paper,
controlling the man and maker.
The one who would save her but only if you pay them to do the favor.
The one who would blame her once they got the chance to savor the remainder.
The one who will take the chance then sell it to you later.
HATER.
Don't front unless your mad,
just suck it to me.
Let the whole world see you sad,
wear it like jewelry.
Consume the fruits until your sad,
or use the gold key,
so you can contrast from the fad.
It's all you have.
quick stutter acid tips,
sips from the mug life,
an angel out of hell or a demon from a cell,
there's no entity here besides the single lined spell.
Conjure compulsions to cure the potion's,
harmful way of destroying the notions.
Paper skin folds like it's smothered in lotions,
no way to absorb the weight of mighty oceans.
Sea salt saint covered in a sea foam paint.
The fumes assuring that they'll taint,
air quality until you faint.
Self restraint won't help the slaughter.
You're bottled up epiphanies are best sent out to water,
best sent to join the daughter and her silly faced father.
Blotter up the page to mundanely leave this range of understanding the lame till they're contorted and strange.
No way,
I won't dance in flowers found in this field,
they wield a fragrance that will surely make you yield.
Sealed off that passage when it was harboring the snow,
NO YOU DON'T KNOW.
NO I WON'T GO.
NO YOU DIDN'T WAIT FOR THE PARTY THAT CAME BEFORE THE SHOW.
Who'da thunk your lungs were already filled to the brim,
with the hydration sack dripping into the place you contain sin.
CHOKE ON IT.
Maybe there's a reason I was never able to get up and split.
Shit.
Reality is tampered with.
I find more real things when I suck in myth.
I PLEAD THE FIFTH.
Sifting like a screen through sand in forlorn land finding gems and coins through ages they have spanned.
Bland nature taster building the reserve for later,
holding the lined paper,
controlling the man and maker.
The one who would save her but only if you pay them to do the favor.
The one who would blame her once they got the chance to savor the remainder.
The one who will take the chance then sell it to you later.
HATER.
Don't front unless your mad,
just suck it to me.
Let the whole world see you sad,
wear it like jewelry.
Consume the fruits until your sad,
or use the gold key,
so you can contrast from the fad.
It's all you have.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Blasphemy.
White dress tucked beneath the fine mess,
here eyelids are timeless,
covering up the cold sweat and silence.
Why this,
actions speak louder than words,
and judging by the verbs you use we're running out of turns.
Look left,
turn right and maybe I'm still here.
But there's the re-occuring fear,
the one you love will finally disappear.
Yes,
fly like a bird with wings strong and sober,
her heart is like a badly wounded soldier.
No steady rhymes or happy times console her.
How do you make money out of madness?
You can't,
it's only sadness that last the stands, tragic.
Write a story of a clipped winged,
mocking bird with the urge to sing but stumbles on the words,
stumbles on the words.
Play games until the sunsets,
upset,
visualize the tight grip and soft breaths,
the melancholy of time spent.
How do you turn the words to fire?
A liar will prosper,
while the guilty party sits there with their souls worn like attire.
Melody's wreck the brain to make it feel plain,
ranging from ok to insane and I can't bring myself to spell the name.
Blame game dame,
trying to conceal her heavy eyes,
too many tries to get the one she wants to hold her high.
It's too late,
too sorry,
too mistaken.
She was a little late but treated the invitation like it was forsaken.
Now where to walk to?
There's no street lights here.
No desire to run away,
no desire to reappear.
Nothing is what she wanted and that's exactly what she got,
now she wish she made a decision instead of standing in one spot.
Decimation,
the feelings can't be put on paper.
She wonders why bother cause no one will read it later.
Just a simple face, solid mine slowly running out of time,
wishing there was a pill that made the melody sound fine.
Too late,
too stuck up,
too stuck on memories,
while the memories haunt and postpone the proper remedy.
Remember me?
No please, I'd rather you just forget.
I'm a nothingness that just happened to fall out of bed.
Bled out and pinned up,
my eyes are glued ten times shut,
fingers still gripping the container that was stranger than danger.
----
Who listens to the wind in the trees?
Now me, I enjoy the sense of something being free.
A constant spilling spree of gust through thick hair,
a small stare to show I'm here but not really there.
Pulled out the frown like a hand me down.
Do I want to wear this once again?
Will you come back my friend?
I need your help in self help through the knowledge that you lend,
though we're both dead end and on the mend,
you can see it in my skin.
It takes just a brush of touch to explain my bad luck.
Our eyes whisper when we shut up.
It's hard to explain but it's known,
that the cold set it in stone.
Silly putty Sally can't get herself straight.
She's all self debate on if she needs a new mate,
a new slate to write on,
a new chapter to take pride upon,
something better than waiting for the weather to stop sending sun.
---
I'm getting really tired of this.
Why bother loving someone.
Why bother loving.
Why sit and talk and communicate the hate?
Why sit there solemn faced while they rape the human race?
WHY BOTHER!?
Yeah, maybe I'm talking to you.
Or maybe I'm talking to me.
Fuck it all I need a moment just to breathe.
Flee the situation that converts this subtle nation to a vacation spot for the dwellers of lower vocation.
Fucken fuck fuck fuck.
---
here eyelids are timeless,
covering up the cold sweat and silence.
Why this,
actions speak louder than words,
and judging by the verbs you use we're running out of turns.
Look left,
turn right and maybe I'm still here.
But there's the re-occuring fear,
the one you love will finally disappear.
Yes,
fly like a bird with wings strong and sober,
her heart is like a badly wounded soldier.
No steady rhymes or happy times console her.
How do you make money out of madness?
You can't,
it's only sadness that last the stands, tragic.
Write a story of a clipped winged,
mocking bird with the urge to sing but stumbles on the words,
stumbles on the words.
Play games until the sunsets,
upset,
visualize the tight grip and soft breaths,
the melancholy of time spent.
How do you turn the words to fire?
A liar will prosper,
while the guilty party sits there with their souls worn like attire.
Melody's wreck the brain to make it feel plain,
ranging from ok to insane and I can't bring myself to spell the name.
Blame game dame,
trying to conceal her heavy eyes,
too many tries to get the one she wants to hold her high.
It's too late,
too sorry,
too mistaken.
She was a little late but treated the invitation like it was forsaken.
Now where to walk to?
There's no street lights here.
No desire to run away,
no desire to reappear.
Nothing is what she wanted and that's exactly what she got,
now she wish she made a decision instead of standing in one spot.
Decimation,
the feelings can't be put on paper.
She wonders why bother cause no one will read it later.
Just a simple face, solid mine slowly running out of time,
wishing there was a pill that made the melody sound fine.
Too late,
too stuck up,
too stuck on memories,
while the memories haunt and postpone the proper remedy.
Remember me?
No please, I'd rather you just forget.
I'm a nothingness that just happened to fall out of bed.
Bled out and pinned up,
my eyes are glued ten times shut,
fingers still gripping the container that was stranger than danger.
----
Who listens to the wind in the trees?
Now me, I enjoy the sense of something being free.
A constant spilling spree of gust through thick hair,
a small stare to show I'm here but not really there.
Pulled out the frown like a hand me down.
Do I want to wear this once again?
Will you come back my friend?
I need your help in self help through the knowledge that you lend,
though we're both dead end and on the mend,
you can see it in my skin.
It takes just a brush of touch to explain my bad luck.
Our eyes whisper when we shut up.
It's hard to explain but it's known,
that the cold set it in stone.
Silly putty Sally can't get herself straight.
She's all self debate on if she needs a new mate,
a new slate to write on,
a new chapter to take pride upon,
something better than waiting for the weather to stop sending sun.
---
I'm getting really tired of this.
Why bother loving someone.
Why bother loving.
Why sit and talk and communicate the hate?
Why sit there solemn faced while they rape the human race?
WHY BOTHER!?
Yeah, maybe I'm talking to you.
Or maybe I'm talking to me.
Fuck it all I need a moment just to breathe.
Flee the situation that converts this subtle nation to a vacation spot for the dwellers of lower vocation.
Fucken fuck fuck fuck.
---
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