Connection


“In this time of ours, spent in each others thoughts, when given but a moments rest, there lies a place in the heart laid bare for me and only me, By one so true and complete. For now, I have become the same, and that is something I will always be thankful for.”

Incomplete


Life’s nothing but a confusing puzzle….The more you complete, the more you begin to realize just how many pieces have gone missing over the years. Making you bear witness to all that you regret. though, it’s only in the end we realize, those final pieces we’d been searching for, never existed in the first place. As every life has empty spaces, regardless of your best intentions. That’s what makes us human, the will to carry on, even if you can’t say who you are is without regret. All the same, piece together a legacy you can call your own, in all its incomplete, imperfect, unique, glory.

Abaddon


Is it night or is it day, I cant seem to tell anymore, all the colors seem so muted. A wailing of vexation, the clouds of thunderous silence, forming closer than I’d hoped. The bastardization of a malicious incantation, fix me now, sweet sounding deviation. Hindrance gaining ground, passions waning, secret of the artforms, commiseration. Populace now populating, this pestilence of the damned in waiting. See me from whence I came, to bleed me dry a final flame, senseless truth a crying shame. Feed the bewildered beasts, of festered meats, slurping and slobbering, time to stoop the hollowing, go reap the wallowing. Entwined, I do break bread, err to whisper, do i feel dead. Spent and warn, failure of the first born, set upon, the seekers swarm. The king of locusts comes, bringing torment, and lamentation, laying waste to all creation. Abaddon, the place of destruction, with sands of crumbling flesh and bone, lightning strikes glassing these fields of omen. The beast comes to bear, seated at the head of the table, with Kain and Abel. It’s the last supper now, with remnants of decay, fear not this coming age, the world is ours, so give it rage.

Bloom


Who can say, when a lifes in full bloom. Do we decide, or does the world tell us when we’re set in the perfect spot. Do we sit and bask in the sun at the summit, or foot of the mountain. Is it us that casts the shadow, or do we starve in the dark overhang of another we find greater. I know what I choose, so let us all sit at the giants table, even if we are small, we all have the potential to cast a shadow a mile long. And make it so, the smallest lonely flower, atop the greatest of ranges, is the height of excellence.

Coming Conclusion


I want to see the sky, I want to see you lie, these words aren’t meant for you, there meant for I. Idolatry, iconoclastic, take me passed this burning matchstick. Robbed of sight and hard of hearing, lead astray to life’s grand clearing. Does the night yet long for the day, lingering fraught with agony and dismay. The tortured soul fixed between two equal impossibilities, and the walls are closing in. I feel as if I could drown in the shallow end of my intention, the weight of a decision still creeping beyond apprehension. What makes a man, how come no one seems to understand, that I wake up everyday, alone and in pain. A pain, I can not see, or taste, or touch, I’ve felt it for so long now, a desire to be known. Though, I fear I’ll miss the serene silence I’ve become accustomed to, wondering if making an impression, is really worth the trouble. Will I be a dead poet in a society of some distant future, before I finally make, my mark on the world.

Stop looking


just for tonight stop looking……
to discover whats already here…
so where does my adventure begin,
what great ocean awaits….
i must first define what i need to stop looking for so i can know myself, but not what i imagine myself to
be, because the person i dream of, is an illusion blocking me from the truth. i imagine a man, great, noble, brilliant, but also; licentious, corrupted, and insane; i imagine a man wanting the best for the world, to see all suffering eradicated and true utopia arise as humanity reaches for its full potential, and yet; lustfully dreams of destruction for all things, to drag the world so far down, our eyes sufficate in the all consuming shroud of darkness, and the sounds of the dying…the cries of the dead…, become a continuum of agony, as dystopia desends upon humanity, they reach for the ashes of a broken future.
that is who i imagine i am….
but i also imagine a “real” version,
a secondary illusion…
i see a ghost, a watcher, moving through life on an empty train, looking out through the window, time moves fast, only lingering on the times i should have been, i often wonder; wandering from instant to
instant, why am i, who am i, where do i belong, the world turns to dust as i watch the home movies of my life over…..and over, trapped inside the misery of my own soliloquy. a solitary existance, carefully planning one move to the next, trying to avoid failure, but failing to start playing. i also see a shadow, silent, guarded, and afraid; quietly afraid of what i have to say, i fear I’m hiding who i am today, always living behind, the times eroding my memory, what do i do, when will be to late, why…..?, these things i say inside my head, as the world eclipses me, my eyes bleed, clearly i taste the bitter reality, all i have is nothing, a glass waiting and just that, the substance of my forfillment is unobtainable, and yet
inescapable….on a ghost train to nowhere…..
and now…….what is left?………

Quiet Rambling


I’ve learned so much, yet know so little, I speak so much lesser, then this disquieted mind can muster. Fevered dreams and fervent feelings, thine tongues twisted epithets, grace such cold dark spaces of this hollow universe. The graying of my eyes, an entropic merger of both light and dark, a consolidation of my shadow, with the neverending radiance of my soul. How hath thouest come to bear such great burdening, at the behest of the world. Why doth this time stand so devoid of mystery, adventure, and purpose. What is left in this world, but the lonely ancient remnants of a history forgotten.

Gate Guardians


Why do I feel like escaping so early in the morning, only to be sold on staying by the afternoon. It hurts so much this longing to be certain. The paradox of trying to hold on to the status quo, while your mind wonders beyond, reaching for more, for something new, a path of deeper meaning, one that brings greater purpose to a life gone dull, its edges blunted, and colors drained of vibrancy. Though, why do we fain such constrained fealty, to an existence growing colder by the day. Do we normalize, these empty versions, overlaying a world given a chance to succeed, a pareidolia, a phantom image, creating an environment we can tolerate. Though, in our tolerance, a languishing of present tense, rusts away a seemingly solid foundation, until, nothing is left, of the man you used to be. Do the mighty succumb to such encumbrances, or is the key to power a finding of this said certainty, yet the preclusion of nullified turbulence, can never be undone by a mere wanten desire alone. Its must take root, from base singularity to fully extended expression. So, when will I taste the delicious pleasures of fruitful ambition, learning to release my grasp on my petrifying old beliefs, and set sail, on a harsher, yet stronger current, rife with risk and danger, but in the end, non greater can be forged, but through the trials of their labours, being taken by difficulty, with the guardians at the gate of your attainment, the ghosts of all your past failures, standing as the greatest obstacles you must over come.

Delirium


dreaming dynastic divinities, denoting depths deeply drowning dumbfounded diatribes. Denounce deduced denigration, delineated dissertations disintegration, despite doubting deference, dictated dare dysgenic deliberation. Divisively dissimilar, desiccated dephibralator, drawing decayed demons, disturbed drones drink deprived delinquents. Drove drunk down dry divergences, domestication dies dressed duplicitously. Dancing delirium, directed deuterium, divisions due, decades Deliverance, decadent dismemberment, deciphering disenchanted dialogues. Does dreaming dilapidated dystopian descriptions, deem days doomed. dawn dared dry drops descendant, drained driven deception, damage done derailed deepening digression. Distressingly deciding, deplorable devil’s dine delicately, dripping delicious devolution’s devoid demarcation. Depressingly Dark demeanor…..done drifting… dreaming deceiver…

Beast of Burden


As a starved beast, of more than just life sustaining morsels. Doth thine hunger set truest desire a breast of proper course. Lead me to haunted shores, my heart doth lament, feed me this fear. these captured tones speak, in the volumes of a book, whose true words remain hidden between the pages. So too doth thy ravenous jaws hang dripping, over tender prize, less a true grasping, just a scent to tide me over, until a lasting impression comes upon me. Such desiccated dreams dry like thick blood, pooling at the seams of eyes yet to open. How hath thou wrought such woeful turbulence, from whence doth fiery echoes dolorous translation, beckon hither thine ashen grave. You eat up all my empty feelings, calling away all the lonely meanings. Oh sullen beast of yore, I pray thee be unfacile, truly understanding my feckless plight. Lend me now your unearthly might, so that I may yet learn what it means, to fight. Suffer no more, of surrenders cruel fate, step forward with miles of conviction. Never see another day unfulfilled, let weightlessness come to all your burdens. Arise kneeling atlas, for you now hold the world in the palm of your hands.

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