I want to be a writer
I want words to worm their way
Out of the outer oblivion orchard
Where I pick pink pieces of my mind.
I want to be a poet
I want poppies picked perfectly preserved
From the consciously created cracks of concrete
Found situated solidly in separated stanzas.
I want to be a singer
I want sounds seeping from senseful songs
Instead of trapped tearing at my terrible tongue
As my vocals vanquish my volatile vocabulary.
Unfortunately, the aforementioned is abandoned due to abysmal accidents.
when good parents speak senseful words, children hear and obey orders
AUGUST 13/2023
Eviscerate my being! Distort my face!
Bring me closure to my ego; replace!
Seizure in dark games through which we interlace,
Beckoning the reaper's embrace.
Subvert my empathy!
Break me into colluded ecstasy!
Mold me in your image of apathy!
Put me in a daze of senseful apogee!
If only I could help You experience the same...
If only I could put out what had went aflame...
If only I could rid you of your own self blame...
My ultimate goal- to personify your game..
Knowing I belong on greater stages;
I set out to share a seat among your stations!
As I'm marching alongside your pages,
I'm taunted by the echoes of ages,
mocked by divine wages.
Taxing are the paths to your way.
My will's faltering, hope's grey,
mind's in a state so risqué.
Tell me, is this the price that I must pay?
"Fractious paranoia vying to supplant.
Vying to take over, to ruin your descant.
To kill that which would lay bare, the one which I shan't.
And destroy the altar to which I hum and I chant."
On days like these it
makes sense to lose the common
sense of mine by you.
if only i could see her eyes
they would tell me everything
i know... look into my eyes you could see the past prese...
but its not about me, no its about her
she is getting older an still struming along sometime alone
or with a friend companion or a senseful stranger
if only i could see her eyes
shiny so dark, hiden in light
they would let out her feelings
all in a calm yet angered way
she would be swinging or weeping
but still stiff as a board
she could be joyous and scare you
and not move a muscle
if i could see into her eyes
they would tell me about her first time
first time for what... i dont know but i would know the feeling and if
it felt good or painfully wrong
her eyes will tell me
dar puddles of confusion and knowing
i could see it all if only
i could see her eyes
Revenge seeker,
Ravage orchard.
You speak
Upon the coppice;
One grows:
You cruelest.
Longing,
Yearning,
See.
For you seethe
Blushing song,
You are
Blood:
You belong.
You kill,
And shrill
Sparkle
And gleam,
Until,
Real
Senseful
You seem.
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