The world is a lie…

It has no purpose, no direction, all the core beliefs and values that built such a lineage of honour and dignity have vanished with the rain of mediocrity. Their is no greater pain then seeing ones life be wasted, and yet trapped with no escape. Am I living in an asylum, the minds that flourish here take conspicuous care to feed their madness. To multiply the normalization of misery. They’ve backed me into a corner and I can feel the walls folding in. This pressure of expectations, I just want it to stop. Where is the greater good, when do the lessons begin, why too does the paradigm shift. Is this feeling, the creativity being bleed from my very essence. Will I linger here and forget to imagine, how long before my passions run dry and my soul becomes darkened. Snuffed out like so may others that have come before me. In the end am I destined to just fade away.


canst you e’er stop…

thy doth not wish to unburden thine mind of availing turmoil, thoust revels in the overture of unbridiled fear and madness.

i spake of a time from whence time was pure, for’est thou doth thinkst time is but phalisy of late, so to doth thou stop feeling pure of heart as consequence?.

is thy nature to falsely interperate reality, doth my perseption faulter o’er is a truth not be thine environment inhence be illusory.

i off’t thinkst a prediliction t’ward predation is’t mire affliction el’st hind nature rend implication on a wiser tounge.

selfly aware is’t my lamentation, such dolorous a personia doth mine own intrigue make of thee, must thou alway live’th in such squandry and befuddelment, shreks of hidden pain languish with in a place i cannot bear to inspect, dark thine mists of torment shall remain, if havent i this wills emboldenment to pursue.

loost thine pillars of dispare, miseries entangled daughter plagues the air i breathe, tis sorrowful a keen vision fells to inferior whispers, with right feeling in thine hearts desire thither a proclimation of peace, doth thou feed the mouth of discontented dreams, force so sweet is burden not she makes.

tis beautiful a nightmare brings thee, fearest truth of blacken nights bane, the dragons toungue begiles thee, thou to taketh my souls fire, exhausted to the point of ashen grave, thine lingering heart yerns for release, yet ye so blind deaf and dumb shall remain, fore’er a prisoner of his own boilga.

there needith be a tenth circle, for all unique transsgressions i alone wiltst commit, unto a new deeper crag, surpassing betrayals vicious snare, a place wholly abaddon hither to the breast of the worlds singular axis, passed the upsidedown spaces inverted justice.

a place only reached by thine outstreched arms, solitary in sanguine foundation, a silence of hissing as the serpent writhing in agony, thist maketh known to occupy for eternal an instance, noteth no greater punishment than thou hast the world in total ignorance of thee, and so to ist ye remain abreast of the world.

To Late

What is my simple failure…

In this great escape I feel as if I’m spinning, past present and future all blurry like when first you wake to the mornings dawn. Seems to me forever is the time I spend trying to remember my purpose, or any other fixed point lingering to my subsisting verbiage. To whence doth the belligerent eye yet fear to look at the way made yesterday hence. I seek a furtherance of grandeur in such slender becoming. To true a mind fears nothing but what makes a life deepen to an expounding of meanings. The vectors of which a fascination for life and a proliferation blooming with trials of death and rebirth.

To what odious aspects draw the curtains on the acts of the world, making my sight see the empty spaces to which society lies upon. A husk of culture hollowed out, robbed blind, stolen by the avarice of the masses. To be nothing if not consumable, and so to we must make or own existences cannibalistic. For the way of old has been broken and changed to be something seen as unwanted. But to those of us who clinge to that passing age, only true loneliness and scarcity of self remain for we few that last and slowly give in, wasting are uniqueness, bleeding our ancient reverence. Finally resolving towards increasing entropy, hiding so well the pieces of yourselves the made us. Pretending for a lifetime, trying to feel nothing, cause it hurts to think you lost a self you faintly remember yet know without question it was you that let it all dissolve away.

What’s the time now…

I hate seeing how far passed to late it really is.

Ending Era

The times stricken, it’s out stretch fingers break across the setting sun. Forever more churning, this never ending cycle of ours. A personification of recompense, the divergent malaise of the forthright enkindler of the engineered masses, weeps but a single solitary tear. For whence doth a man’s spirit ache so virulently estranged, a manifest so bleak and dolorous, the minds fathomless depths crash against the decaying era we hold so stern against our breast. Try as we might to never let it go, slowly its siphoned away, as it disintegrates all hope seems lost to a people who know not where to venture next. They imagine fantasies and false gods to restore their meaning, but as all lies, as sense of untruth poisons the air, its lingering stench feeds the dismay of the crying multitudes of petrified corpses. its hateful atmospheric presents enfeebles a once rich in spirit and proud people, grinding there memory into dust. These are dark times, these are the times of the great transgression, a treason upon all who hear it, rending there very souls, leaving even a magnum opus devoid of humanity. What would dante see in this era, after seeing the hell the old world created for them to believe. How many betrayers, how many hypocrites, how many false prophets….”doth the quiet yet frighten you” virgil would say. all but those unwilling to atone come here, for In this age of selfishness and narcissism.

hell remains empty.


For where does a hollow go…

To what desert, to what languished dream, that makes no wonder. Breathe out vitality, breathe in finality, the trojan horse of bated breath.

A pariah name forsooth remains, a delinquent debutante, boldly claimed a fire once tamed, devouring all that except hate and rage.

Oh where oh where does a hollow go…

Empathy the cannibal, gluttonous and ineffable, feeding the dark ways, ageliscism build this prison, overridden still keep hidden, how much it hurts, as the burdens reliquary perturbs the fixtures of times estuary.

How can a hollow go…

through streams of disturb, to in the end reemerge, drowned on emptiness.

Where does one lay, between the fruit and the fly, to live or to die, all wrapped in a lie. When filled to the brim still feels so inconceivably incomplete, innate interpretations, interest only inner demons dancing devilish footstep over trampled remembrance.

The bliss of the sane, never seeing how deep the claws of sadness fester, stuck in a heart longing for yester, fear not the tidal wave of isolation. But frighten away all your chances, scarcely seeking remuneration.

Where I ask—where can I go….

So Violently, with a strangled cry, failing to be heard, guardian of the word, it pleads with anguish, to give it sound release.

And the rest…..

……is silence.

Grey Gardens

Grey gardens of a gated house, only known death a foot the quartered passing. Guthery an ode to thee blessers chilling kiss. What is it you want just say it plainly. Out but not in, still but so that it be intolerable, louder then the crushing silence of self loathing. A wanting man, who needs nothing, to plagiarize a proper meaning to act a rightness of feeling. To smile in that frightful way, as the beast slowly licked the tender skin of its prey, so to do I smell and touch, taste and savor. Become what you became, that night alone in pain. Feel that madness ride up, an unbridled wave of sick and sunder. Spoils but pampered flesh, can you hear it, the chewing, the crunching, swallow your pride, eat your gluttony, live your wrath. Envy the jealous souls infinite lust and greed. Awaken to the sloth at the end of all invention. Bask in the splendor at the precipice of the world..

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