Words of Violence and Strife II
I feel the light assault my tender optics.
I see the elections flow and ebb.
The particles of reality assault my mind.
Can you feel my thoughts my inner desolations.
Spare me the moments you don’t understand, my crime.
Crimson are my hands, thick with a dark fluid
I know not were it arrives only my mind
can not combine the things I have seen,
felt and discarded.
I can not define.
Feel the elections fly,
against my perception.
I see my Parade; black infernal,
see my demons march, my nightmares dance.
My thoughts scamper and run.
They are corpses shambling in the back of my mind.
The dark depths of my soul.
Like boxes stacked neatly nine by nine.
Memories assault my sight.
Ravage my minds second sight.
They drift though my visions like wraiths of time.
Crimson are my fingers drip something
I can not, will not define.
I feel the light assault my fragile optics.
I see the elections wax & wane a course in my vaines.
The splinters of reality storm my thoughts. At
Stuck in my throat.
Can you feel my minds inner desolations.
Spare me the minutes you don’t comprehend,