The crippling pain of depression
seems to envelope small minds as
we curve through the long woven
path of humanity
To sleep in our beds and stream through
like a snake in the rotten soiled tubing
of our cryptic lives.
Each day we wake and wish to die.
but fail to ever live
it usually takes the fate of others
to worry one damp soul
we are hung in a pit
where only lies and terrible sins
could save us from impurity.
one whines for sight but fails to see
that his sight is not sought
A ghost in love like the bones of our sky.
impenetrable lies falter hasty goodbyes
uniformed youths circle in guilt,
spinning in song through sully
brown haze of an
angelic tune.
ensnared,
beaten ,
crushed
and
drowned
in the rivers of our disdained adolescents
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Nocturnal Illusions Pt. 1
within my arm.
a fruit will spring
a scab to peel. an obsession for such a weak man as I.
the dark blur tempting my action.
the over whelming urge to remove it.
its red. its vines. penetrate forth from my skin. and I bleed.
the first of a few falls out.
a tomato.
the second I try to remove.
I squeeze. it hurts.
its vine. is all I can reach.
I rip and tear. my skin is no more.
my arms are shred
no muscle. just the lumpy remains of my scarlet bones.
I tremble at the sight of my weakness.
a fruit will spring
a scab to peel. an obsession for such a weak man as I.
the dark blur tempting my action.
the over whelming urge to remove it.
its red. its vines. penetrate forth from my skin. and I bleed.
the first of a few falls out.
a tomato.
the second I try to remove.
I squeeze. it hurts.
its vine. is all I can reach.
I rip and tear. my skin is no more.
my arms are shred
no muscle. just the lumpy remains of my scarlet bones.
I tremble at the sight of my weakness.
The Prick
As the sewer sewed. the needle wrote a song.
flicking lights. and golden nails at each others necks.
the shame of their gloating
red to our sight.
a string held for dear life.
a clinging sign of need.
the needle falls
and to its catcher, it gives a poke.
a needle who falls needs not to be caught.
unless you are prepared and willing to feel its prick
flicking lights. and golden nails at each others necks.
the shame of their gloating
red to our sight.
a string held for dear life.
a clinging sign of need.
the needle falls
and to its catcher, it gives a poke.
a needle who falls needs not to be caught.
unless you are prepared and willing to feel its prick
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Grandiose
an extravagance of a familiar kind.
willing. needing. and wanting.
waiting, filing and looking.
Find it in the hard floors of the wilderness.
surely they will bow to you.
the crown will wave in your hands lusting for the appreciation you so sorely need.
the fools will doubt the truth of antimatters.
and coinsurances
the issue of love is grandiose.
as most would reverse the idea..
I wished to purchase such a quary.
blundering in my own consequences.
fluttering in my own air.
I would swear control as mine.
and it would belong to no other.
river, such overuse of expression flow unto thee.
mild heartache crushes stones to powder as would a mountain in it's eruption
false respect paid to the murderers.
break glass unwittingly
willing. needing. and wanting.
waiting, filing and looking.
Find it in the hard floors of the wilderness.
surely they will bow to you.
the crown will wave in your hands lusting for the appreciation you so sorely need.
the fools will doubt the truth of antimatters.
and coinsurances
the issue of love is grandiose.
as most would reverse the idea..
I wished to purchase such a quary.
blundering in my own consequences.
fluttering in my own air.
I would swear control as mine.
and it would belong to no other.
river, such overuse of expression flow unto thee.
mild heartache crushes stones to powder as would a mountain in it's eruption
false respect paid to the murderers.
break glass unwittingly
Giddy
It's a rush.
You know that feeling when your in space and all the molecules in your body want to fly in a separate direction but are forced to be stuck within your body so a wrenching pain of energy is blasting from every pore in your body.
a pulse of energy erecting from every molecule and you just want to explode.
The lack of oxygen turnging your skin purple and ever nanosecond is agony.
but it's all for the best.
that hollow feeling deep within the very pit of your soul that knows every thing will be back to normal in a few minutes.
the perplexing virtigo you get seconds before your collapse and wake up from that horrible nightmare.
and your suddely feel the urge to do it once more.
you want to feel the shortness of breathe the slowly recurring noises, (subtle at first) then a gradual impulse of sounds buyrsting through every nerve in your head. you want it to stop but the bang just persists.
you wanna die for just one seond before your back in space.
your eyes want to split in two and your heart is now moving so fast that it feels like is not moving at all.
the paradox within your heart empty but extremely heavy.
reoccuring sounds mumbles of ideas scrambling to releave all the pressure in your lungs. all sences shot. darkness followed by light and every thing you know is back as you left it.
that wonderful nightmare is over.
but the urge to relive it is still there.
the pain is unbearable. but the urge is much more.
silence.
You know that feeling when your in space and all the molecules in your body want to fly in a separate direction but are forced to be stuck within your body so a wrenching pain of energy is blasting from every pore in your body.
a pulse of energy erecting from every molecule and you just want to explode.
The lack of oxygen turnging your skin purple and ever nanosecond is agony.
but it's all for the best.
that hollow feeling deep within the very pit of your soul that knows every thing will be back to normal in a few minutes.
the perplexing virtigo you get seconds before your collapse and wake up from that horrible nightmare.
and your suddely feel the urge to do it once more.
you want to feel the shortness of breathe the slowly recurring noises, (subtle at first) then a gradual impulse of sounds buyrsting through every nerve in your head. you want it to stop but the bang just persists.
you wanna die for just one seond before your back in space.
your eyes want to split in two and your heart is now moving so fast that it feels like is not moving at all.
the paradox within your heart empty but extremely heavy.
reoccuring sounds mumbles of ideas scrambling to releave all the pressure in your lungs. all sences shot. darkness followed by light and every thing you know is back as you left it.
that wonderful nightmare is over.
but the urge to relive it is still there.
the pain is unbearable. but the urge is much more.
silence.
Pressure in my Holy Temple; A headache.
Before I begin with my rhyme
I must exclame it's been some time.
in days of old I used to write
in flashy letters both black and white.
"I walk along a lonely road "
That green day quote is pretty old
It reflects life and it shows
our petty goals and worthless woes
I see these flame way up high
as I walk I pass them by
the flames , I see on top of sticks
around me, buildings made of bricks.
I do not know where I am bound
then I stop to look around.
I see things that a man should never see
Beggers, Drunkards, Rats,and Addicts surrounding me
They yell at me, I say "this is swell"
I think I might just be in hell.
Indeed it's true I see a gate.
this man in red says "its too late"
I look at him in gross dismay
he asks me once to come and stay
He says to me "heavens not that great"
cause up there you can't masterbate"
And then he growls and laughs out loud
and with that, approachs a croud
they chant in key
as they approach me
and say the most peculiar things.
One says "you can't fly with buffalo wings"
and others join in to the chant.
"you can't yell feathers while I rant"
"I can't I can't I can't I can't "
"feathers" "Whether I can not say"
"Please you can't surely be so gay"
"Please Oh please don't get in my way"
I hear them speak and I say "HEY!"
"whats with all this crazy talk?"
then silence comes
not a word is spoke
until one says "ey whats wrong with you bloke?"
"why don't you join me for a smoke?"
As I replied "go home you joke"
I suddenly just awoke
I hide a gun beneath my bed.
some times I put it near my head.
in the night it would go off
My voice is gone, I have to cough.
the gun you see is not a gun
the gun reflects society.
in my sleep its under me
my bliss is sleep with no anxiety
You see the world is going straight to hell.
don't understand why? I'll explain. I shall.
you see, there is this guy. his name is . Tim
he is married to his woman, Kim.
every sunday Tim goes down on Jim
While at home alone is Kim
All night she worries for Husband Tim,
whether he will be back in time from the Gym
She thinks that Tim is in the Gym
Oh poor delutional Kim
It is in fact Jim who is in Tim.
who Can say that this is right?
And still we all sit around and fight.
on the side of who is right.
that is in fact the question.
Who is right?
to proof ones own correct fault
one must not assalt the one who seems to be right.
For he can put up a better fight.
ones own ideas can be strong
And as we live we go along
with what we are told and think we know
and justify them till we go
to heaven or hell we never know.
Sodomy, Rape, Incest , and lust.
Issues that just bring disgust.
sexual acts can be robust.
Stealing, Killing, And Lying bring guilt
on those Crimes are laws are built.
but we do not reflect on ourselfs.
as if we are innocent elfs
with nothing more then gifts and bells
but cute things like that in market sells.
the money that those markets make
are spared for rich men to take.
with shares and money at ones expence make.
and then he falls with a chance to break
He's broke it'g one no time for him
cause here comes money in a case for Jim.
A lawsuit is made with Kim to Tim.
A divorse is planned between her and him.
She caught Jim In Tim
and in a whim Jim leaves with Tim.
Some money lost for poor old Kim.
She was not ever married with him.
She is lost and sad no money to use.
she found a chance, Nothing to loose.
To sleep with men and drink some booze.
she has two kids. whom she can abuse.
One slap or two can light a fuse.
these kids are old enough to use.
that gun she had in case of theft.
Bang bang Boom boom No one is left.
No please excuse my lack of rhyme but this had to be said from time to time.
"you are what your surrounded by"
I must exclame it's been some time.
in days of old I used to write
in flashy letters both black and white.
"I walk along a lonely road "
That green day quote is pretty old
It reflects life and it shows
our petty goals and worthless woes
I see these flame way up high
as I walk I pass them by
the flames , I see on top of sticks
around me, buildings made of bricks.
I do not know where I am bound
then I stop to look around.
I see things that a man should never see
Beggers, Drunkards, Rats,and Addicts surrounding me
They yell at me, I say "this is swell"
I think I might just be in hell.
Indeed it's true I see a gate.
this man in red says "its too late"
I look at him in gross dismay
he asks me once to come and stay
He says to me "heavens not that great"
cause up there you can't masterbate"
And then he growls and laughs out loud
and with that, approachs a croud
they chant in key
as they approach me
and say the most peculiar things.
One says "you can't fly with buffalo wings"
and others join in to the chant.
"you can't yell feathers while I rant"
"I can't I can't I can't I can't "
"feathers" "Whether I can not say"
"Please you can't surely be so gay"
"Please Oh please don't get in my way"
I hear them speak and I say "HEY!"
"whats with all this crazy talk?"
then silence comes
not a word is spoke
until one says "ey whats wrong with you bloke?"
"why don't you join me for a smoke?"
As I replied "go home you joke"
I suddenly just awoke
I hide a gun beneath my bed.
some times I put it near my head.
in the night it would go off
My voice is gone, I have to cough.
the gun you see is not a gun
the gun reflects society.
in my sleep its under me
my bliss is sleep with no anxiety
You see the world is going straight to hell.
don't understand why? I'll explain. I shall.
you see, there is this guy. his name is . Tim
he is married to his woman, Kim.
every sunday Tim goes down on Jim
While at home alone is Kim
All night she worries for Husband Tim,
whether he will be back in time from the Gym
She thinks that Tim is in the Gym
Oh poor delutional Kim
It is in fact Jim who is in Tim.
who Can say that this is right?
And still we all sit around and fight.
on the side of who is right.
that is in fact the question.
Who is right?
to proof ones own correct fault
one must not assalt the one who seems to be right.
For he can put up a better fight.
ones own ideas can be strong
And as we live we go along
with what we are told and think we know
and justify them till we go
to heaven or hell we never know.
Sodomy, Rape, Incest , and lust.
Issues that just bring disgust.
sexual acts can be robust.
Stealing, Killing, And Lying bring guilt
on those Crimes are laws are built.
but we do not reflect on ourselfs.
as if we are innocent elfs
with nothing more then gifts and bells
but cute things like that in market sells.
the money that those markets make
are spared for rich men to take.
with shares and money at ones expence make.
and then he falls with a chance to break
He's broke it'g one no time for him
cause here comes money in a case for Jim.
A lawsuit is made with Kim to Tim.
A divorse is planned between her and him.
She caught Jim In Tim
and in a whim Jim leaves with Tim.
Some money lost for poor old Kim.
She was not ever married with him.
She is lost and sad no money to use.
she found a chance, Nothing to loose.
To sleep with men and drink some booze.
she has two kids. whom she can abuse.
One slap or two can light a fuse.
these kids are old enough to use.
that gun she had in case of theft.
Bang bang Boom boom No one is left.
No please excuse my lack of rhyme but this had to be said from time to time.
"you are what your surrounded by"
Cosmic Surgery
oh, come to my store,
I’ll fix you up.
I’ll grab a tooth pick and a cup, and
sow your mouth and stomach shut.
then while your sitting on the chair
I’ll give you some burdens to bear
as well as cut your silly hair.
perhaps I’ll charm you will a spell
and ask you to live safe and well
as I live alone in hell.
then while I’m at it how ’bout a perm.
a face lift? botox? and bath?
and as your tied up you try to squirm
while I wipe off every germ.
an acid bath will do you good,
a moral boost it would, it would.
how horrid it must sound to you.
a creature so uptight and rude.
a ghoul a ghost with attitude.
but heck it’s fine I’m in the mood.
lets fight and struggle in a match.
or fire brimstone with a catch.
the winner will be baked in a batch of
tasteful delectable snacks.
a sunshine moral code of ethics keep all dreams of murder,
blood and gore,as nothing more then just a simple
boring thought.
it’s all been seen you say.
there’s nothing that scares me. no way!.
then what about a streak of sadness, tainted with a birch of madness.
broken by an knife of steel deep within your back.
oh that sounds lovely for the hour and you’ll go deaf from screams as I grow sour toward your utterly pathetic thoughts of rage filled angst.
oh my wonderful flower. how was the trip with doctor bat.
who said he’d do you good and makes all troubles go away.
oh yes he’s good I’ll recommend him as you should to every wacko in da hood.
and we’ll be jolly filled with beans of caramel and suet
my pregnant rat is still alive with child in arms endangerment.
as all harm comes along at once we worry so a chance to put away the harms of filth and smut that plague our soft trite souls.
I’ll fix you up.
I’ll grab a tooth pick and a cup, and
sow your mouth and stomach shut.
then while your sitting on the chair
I’ll give you some burdens to bear
as well as cut your silly hair.
perhaps I’ll charm you will a spell
and ask you to live safe and well
as I live alone in hell.
then while I’m at it how ’bout a perm.
a face lift? botox? and bath?
and as your tied up you try to squirm
while I wipe off every germ.
an acid bath will do you good,
a moral boost it would, it would.
how horrid it must sound to you.
a creature so uptight and rude.
a ghoul a ghost with attitude.
but heck it’s fine I’m in the mood.
lets fight and struggle in a match.
or fire brimstone with a catch.
the winner will be baked in a batch of
tasteful delectable snacks.
a sunshine moral code of ethics keep all dreams of murder,
blood and gore,as nothing more then just a simple
boring thought.
it’s all been seen you say.
there’s nothing that scares me. no way!.
then what about a streak of sadness, tainted with a birch of madness.
broken by an knife of steel deep within your back.
oh that sounds lovely for the hour and you’ll go deaf from screams as I grow sour toward your utterly pathetic thoughts of rage filled angst.
oh my wonderful flower. how was the trip with doctor bat.
who said he’d do you good and makes all troubles go away.
oh yes he’s good I’ll recommend him as you should to every wacko in da hood.
and we’ll be jolly filled with beans of caramel and suet
my pregnant rat is still alive with child in arms endangerment.
as all harm comes along at once we worry so a chance to put away the harms of filth and smut that plague our soft trite souls.
What's the matter of fact?
Occam's razor
"All other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best."
It's a well known fact that complexities in life are variable to the people whom are being plagued with ambivalent feelings toward several equal factors in living.
what can honestly be done if such factors bring options that are equally as meaningful? The problems that arises there from are thus meaningless because of their contradictory nature.
this odd paradoxical nature dwells within life's long road and is at every twist and turn.
Science has Religion.
Love has Hate.
and
The Good have The Bad.
after birth a fork in the road is establish. through out every year another fork is added.
but there has never been established which road is "correct"
or whether it's the correct road in which we are to follow.
but one thing is for sure.
a life of simplicity is usually the correct one
but what is yet to be established is:
what constitutes simplicity?
The Id manages simplicity.
but the Ego re-enforces it.
"All other things being equal, the simplest solution is the best."
It's a well known fact that complexities in life are variable to the people whom are being plagued with ambivalent feelings toward several equal factors in living.
what can honestly be done if such factors bring options that are equally as meaningful? The problems that arises there from are thus meaningless because of their contradictory nature.
this odd paradoxical nature dwells within life's long road and is at every twist and turn.
Science has Religion.
Love has Hate.
and
The Good have The Bad.
after birth a fork in the road is establish. through out every year another fork is added.
but there has never been established which road is "correct"
or whether it's the correct road in which we are to follow.
but one thing is for sure.
a life of simplicity is usually the correct one
but what is yet to be established is:
what constitutes simplicity?
The Id manages simplicity.
but the Ego re-enforces it.
Cancer
we are omnipotent it seems
we can realize our dreams
we'll transport ourselves through beams
to new territory
we can sow all that we can
which we'll reap,
take our business somewhere else.
and begin our grand tirade
more reaping less sowing.
more watching less showing
more for less.
less no more.
take take take
items galore.
Waste supplies to learn a trade.
Waste our time to get it made.
Waste our chances for a fade.
no less attention can be paid.
to imbeciles with belts and shades.
but now the mountain is to steep
the outliers way to high
it's a 90 degree slope
so now give up all hope
we'll sit and burn with in this blaze
bake until we're done.
and when the timer no longer will run
leave the haze of soft slumbers
into a more real world of unequal opportunities
and inequalities in our learning.
still the slope seems to high.
and our ropes now wear thin.
so retreat to the bin from which night mares are made.
we can realize our dreams
we'll transport ourselves through beams
to new territory
we can sow all that we can
which we'll reap,
take our business somewhere else.
and begin our grand tirade
more reaping less sowing.
more watching less showing
more for less.
less no more.
take take take
items galore.
Waste supplies to learn a trade.
Waste our time to get it made.
Waste our chances for a fade.
no less attention can be paid.
to imbeciles with belts and shades.
but now the mountain is to steep
the outliers way to high
it's a 90 degree slope
so now give up all hope
we'll sit and burn with in this blaze
bake until we're done.
and when the timer no longer will run
leave the haze of soft slumbers
into a more real world of unequal opportunities
and inequalities in our learning.
still the slope seems to high.
and our ropes now wear thin.
so retreat to the bin from which night mares are made.
An Address to Duress
I'd sooner raise my voice then raise a fist.
what honest impulse to bring harm with lack of proper intellect.
yell out you fools, lest you shall not be heard.
how eerie violence be, how shameful can it be?
what pacifist would pass a fist to "fix" society?
be brutal as can be to make the pussies see he who holds to biggest stick
can rule his own country.
a leader of a gang. a fighter in a ring. who's brain tossed left and right
is like a bird with out it's wings. How lonely are the bright whom live without a fight. with which his livelihood is trite and unrewarding.
I have yet to see how courage is the key to winning over patrons of the art.
when can we earn a spot without having to have fought a scoundrel without any more to gain.
when will the madness end?
how can we ever win?
without showing off and intimidating.
our human minds still small.
our impulses to strong.
we now know how to kill
so it shan't not be to long.
what honest impulse to bring harm with lack of proper intellect.
yell out you fools, lest you shall not be heard.
how eerie violence be, how shameful can it be?
what pacifist would pass a fist to "fix" society?
be brutal as can be to make the pussies see he who holds to biggest stick
can rule his own country.
a leader of a gang. a fighter in a ring. who's brain tossed left and right
is like a bird with out it's wings. How lonely are the bright whom live without a fight. with which his livelihood is trite and unrewarding.
I have yet to see how courage is the key to winning over patrons of the art.
when can we earn a spot without having to have fought a scoundrel without any more to gain.
when will the madness end?
how can we ever win?
without showing off and intimidating.
our human minds still small.
our impulses to strong.
we now know how to kill
so it shan't not be to long.
It's so obvious you're a gas
it's obvious you're a gas,
yet so very dense you are.
a fleeing hope to waste away
and breeze through out your ass
an interior motive you applied to my illusions
and unintentional leap into conclusions
and yet I find it quite amusing
that I could play along.
but still I'm at a pause,
I've stumbled on your clause
in a contract you proposed
though I would agree
I cannot speak for me
and so poems will then work for free
and robotic as it would seem
my words come all from dreams
though they don't have heart or soul to pass
it's so obvious they're a gas
yet so very dense you are.
a fleeing hope to waste away
and breeze through out your ass
an interior motive you applied to my illusions
and unintentional leap into conclusions
and yet I find it quite amusing
that I could play along.
but still I'm at a pause,
I've stumbled on your clause
in a contract you proposed
though I would agree
I cannot speak for me
and so poems will then work for free
and robotic as it would seem
my words come all from dreams
though they don't have heart or soul to pass
it's so obvious they're a gas
Great Scott
keep your mouth shut don't utter a word
if you do and it's wise you'll be hated.
Great Scott that's absurd.
if you keep biting your tongue you'll cut it right off.
you will chew it for hours till your sore throat is raw.
no speaking for hatred is at every whim
and a word from your mouth can be bitter or grim
no opinions can ever matter that much.
but be free to speak out lest your eye balls torn out
for what can you say if your vision is gone?
what can be said when you can't tell things apart.
do we think to be grand
do we say things to soon?
why utter meek virtues
and appear the buffoon
core explorations to rash
and not evenly scored
Great Scott the torturing is what I've always abhorred.
but I wont say a thing when your souls on the line
it's yours after all
yes yours
not mine...
if you do and it's wise you'll be hated.
Great Scott that's absurd.
if you keep biting your tongue you'll cut it right off.
you will chew it for hours till your sore throat is raw.
no speaking for hatred is at every whim
and a word from your mouth can be bitter or grim
no opinions can ever matter that much.
but be free to speak out lest your eye balls torn out
for what can you say if your vision is gone?
what can be said when you can't tell things apart.
do we think to be grand
do we say things to soon?
why utter meek virtues
and appear the buffoon
core explorations to rash
and not evenly scored
Great Scott the torturing is what I've always abhorred.
but I wont say a thing when your souls on the line
it's yours after all
yes yours
not mine...
Garden Snail
a shelter in a shell
a shell's a living hell
when a home becomes a prison
your hell is now a cell
when I know I have a back bone I'm more inclined to slouch
ever moving slowly
creeping slow into a crawl
the slime still far behind you.
to leave and still be a slug
in a garden infested with bugs.
I wish I could move
at a rate to improve
my life around leaches and grubs
apples that fall from above
never grow up and be free.
and seldom grow up to be trees
for when they are consumed
they're digested (entombed)
into excremental brown doves
a shell's a living hell
when a home becomes a prison
your hell is now a cell
when I know I have a back bone I'm more inclined to slouch
ever moving slowly
creeping slow into a crawl
the slime still far behind you.
to leave and still be a slug
in a garden infested with bugs.
I wish I could move
at a rate to improve
my life around leaches and grubs
apples that fall from above
never grow up and be free.
and seldom grow up to be trees
for when they are consumed
they're digested (entombed)
into excremental brown doves
No, Time has passed
walk with me for once
talk with me once again.
never mind
seek that which is yours.
I don't share.
hell, I don't care.
depart from my sight
can't stand that look.
one I can only imagine.
one I believe you're capable of making.
how it haunts me.
doesn't it?
can't say for sure.
won't say I'm sure.
can't cause it's still a blur
was that you?
on the bus?
was that you
whom I used to trust
can't say that I've helped.
can't say that I could've
won't say that I tried.
can't say that I would've.
where did they all go?
why did I stay here?
I should be gone..
I could be gone.
but I'm not.
could it be hope?
I wish it were hope
and It very well can be hope.
but it's not.
it's not.
It's all times that seem to be all gone and over with.
talk with me once again.
never mind
seek that which is yours.
I don't share.
hell, I don't care.
depart from my sight
can't stand that look.
one I can only imagine.
one I believe you're capable of making.
how it haunts me.
doesn't it?
can't say for sure.
won't say I'm sure.
can't cause it's still a blur
was that you?
on the bus?
was that you
whom I used to trust
can't say that I've helped.
can't say that I could've
won't say that I tried.
can't say that I would've.
where did they all go?
why did I stay here?
I should be gone..
I could be gone.
but I'm not.
could it be hope?
I wish it were hope
and It very well can be hope.
but it's not.
it's not.
It's all times that seem to be all gone and over with.
Chameleon Proclivity
Like what floats on a river
like want can't sink fast enough
a movement referred by inclination
so long as you've flow far away.
away from your problems
can't ever know you to well
directing your problems like that free flowing tide
mistook you for someone too brave to hide.
since you've gone
gone to far
since you've lost
lost so much
lost your touch.
lost it all
and I can't bear to let it slide
it's now torn though my rough hide
and it's a thorn on my side
you've changed friend
you've not you anymore
you've change fiend
you're not who I knew
you're not like before
Or just don't
change now, some more. I beg . become nothing instead. you have changed to adapt. it's ok but it's sad. cause your not what you could be. you've become what you want to be seen as. it's a drag I can say. that one changes each day to be saved from a slash by one with a gash in a heart.
I told you quite clear with assertion and fear to never get near for your joining wont last. and you would be a cast for a once broken heart.
but you do what you can to survive. it's quite noble you see
and for that I coincide your a chameleon indeed
Self of little or no value
Look, again
step aside
rest your head
by the rules you'll abide
set in stone are the causes we think then we are
broken bonds yet decided are sure to be wrong.
bomb the capital you ask
rotten filth lines the street
yet we eat where we feel like and
sleep where we need.
return our foreshadowed hope in exchange for free will
and yes we are unsound and valid indeed
unused to the purger
what health can we have
when you're soaked in their power
there can't be much fun
uncertain I am of the risk that you take
by you I mean me
and by me
my mistake
you're right and you're not cause what's left is you're done
the world is a value
and we are each of none
step aside
rest your head
by the rules you'll abide
set in stone are the causes we think then we are
broken bonds yet decided are sure to be wrong.
bomb the capital you ask
rotten filth lines the street
yet we eat where we feel like and
sleep where we need.
return our foreshadowed hope in exchange for free will
and yes we are unsound and valid indeed
unused to the purger
what health can we have
when you're soaked in their power
there can't be much fun
uncertain I am of the risk that you take
by you I mean me
and by me
my mistake
you're right and you're not cause what's left is you're done
the world is a value
and we are each of none
For what it's worth
My sanction's sanctum bewildered by doubt
will my courage rejoice me?
or am I not eager to begrudge my objectives.
can I not go home unscathed
or is my worry the bases for reworking my security
I see the poor arise as the rain dances in colors
what world supports a battery of lies and negates the souls of man?
can a middle ground be the abyss of moderation?
well I'd hope more regrets encourage less action for
why would the soul less wonders of the human condition be in effect in our sorrows
why involve reason in death?
for my plea is no longer to the devil
but to the demons afoot
will my courage rejoice me?
or am I not eager to begrudge my objectives.
can I not go home unscathed
or is my worry the bases for reworking my security
I see the poor arise as the rain dances in colors
what world supports a battery of lies and negates the souls of man?
can a middle ground be the abyss of moderation?
well I'd hope more regrets encourage less action for
why would the soul less wonders of the human condition be in effect in our sorrows
why involve reason in death?
for my plea is no longer to the devil
but to the demons afoot
Intrepid Re: A dying breed
Sell out boundaries
lay a course for our insistence
we exist to be frail
so we search for destruction
it's obvious now.
we hide from our troubles and exemplify our causes
effects of the heart I'm sure.
but yet fear drives us.
like a drunk driver on the road
death will come soon enough
either for me or a victim
only time could tell
and the wreck that follows is there for the world to see
and slow down at a pace only a snail could hope to compete with
ofcourse no one there mourns for the dead
they only pass in hopes they don't share the same fate.
and sad to say everyone does
so fear drives us over the edge.
yet certainty wont allow progress
if held in the threshold that is our censes
when we pass though
all fear and restraint is held out like.
bounced into oblivion and our naked
selfless bones now lie and wait for it's next witness
to the horrific
can one be helped with out lashing?
can one be taught without pain?
or is the pain the lesson of living?
and death indeed the reward.
I say not.
but tell that to the mislead
lay a course for our insistence
we exist to be frail
so we search for destruction
it's obvious now.
we hide from our troubles and exemplify our causes
effects of the heart I'm sure.
but yet fear drives us.
like a drunk driver on the road
death will come soon enough
either for me or a victim
only time could tell
and the wreck that follows is there for the world to see
and slow down at a pace only a snail could hope to compete with
ofcourse no one there mourns for the dead
they only pass in hopes they don't share the same fate.
and sad to say everyone does
so fear drives us over the edge.
yet certainty wont allow progress
if held in the threshold that is our censes
when we pass though
all fear and restraint is held out like.
bounced into oblivion and our naked
selfless bones now lie and wait for it's next witness
to the horrific
can one be helped with out lashing?
can one be taught without pain?
or is the pain the lesson of living?
and death indeed the reward.
I say not.
but tell that to the mislead
To control and discredit
Seizure begins with the consuption of our own goods
such qualities at the behest of others are far to frequent and we aspire to begin our own source of contempt toward another. such occurrences must be unrewarded and result in a shameful banishing.
heh, to neglect a scourge such as that we must be savages
for what more courageous heroes bite your leg and take you to safety.
a slow man can fear fires
but a fast man bullets
what many more dreams end in nightmares
what single beds feel large when under the spell of slumber
the world turns on it..s axis every day
and god is not at fault.
Semper Dexter!
The ever powerful fist of ascendancy
Boiling the pots of our splendor
Cringing the ripe patter and clatter of adolescence.
brainwashed with honor and conditioning with servitude.
A simple yet braised attempt to control the future of an empire.
no, Republic.
simplified chaos, bright as day.
withering ever so slowly.
with cold hands and colder hearts they dig in the mounts.
frozen and piked.
bicuspid points of origin.
the ice is not crystallized in the warm bloody arms of the digger.
as time fades.
the stresses of modern life flow to it's nearest shelter.
the catacombs of the human mind.
the bowels of our most well kept secrets.
the myths of our mentor's disgrace.
can fate be so bewildering.
is our fate what we create?
or can the truth outline the the results?
the one who holds the pen.
holds the power.
the one who has the sword upholds it.
right is the status quo.
we all fight for it.
but who makes the choices?
Boiling the pots of our splendor
Cringing the ripe patter and clatter of adolescence.
brainwashed with honor and conditioning with servitude.
A simple yet braised attempt to control the future of an empire.
no, Republic.
simplified chaos, bright as day.
withering ever so slowly.
with cold hands and colder hearts they dig in the mounts.
frozen and piked.
bicuspid points of origin.
the ice is not crystallized in the warm bloody arms of the digger.
as time fades.
the stresses of modern life flow to it's nearest shelter.
the catacombs of the human mind.
the bowels of our most well kept secrets.
the myths of our mentor's disgrace.
can fate be so bewildering.
is our fate what we create?
or can the truth outline the the results?
the one who holds the pen.
holds the power.
the one who has the sword upholds it.
right is the status quo.
we all fight for it.
but who makes the choices?
Sour Grapes
great awakenings come from deep slumbers.
we hibernate in quarries that infect and indulge in our false proprieties.
we become slender from the lack of sustenance.
a great necessity that we all find valuable to our survival in this world.
it was first a seemingly simple commodity.
one to be forgotten so easily and I was once eager to discard it for some with more bulk.
I thought I needed more.
for whom could satisfy with a simple sliver when the entire fruit seems so close a hand.
we grasp the vines of the grape tree and we all shake it's fruit off in shameless disorder.
we cause them all to fall and in our foolish excitement we step on those first to hit the ground as we worry more about whats above.
but that's not to say wine could still not be made from our disregard of what came down first.
we hibernate in quarries that infect and indulge in our false proprieties.
we become slender from the lack of sustenance.
a great necessity that we all find valuable to our survival in this world.
it was first a seemingly simple commodity.
one to be forgotten so easily and I was once eager to discard it for some with more bulk.
I thought I needed more.
for whom could satisfy with a simple sliver when the entire fruit seems so close a hand.
we grasp the vines of the grape tree and we all shake it's fruit off in shameless disorder.
we cause them all to fall and in our foolish excitement we step on those first to hit the ground as we worry more about whats above.
but that's not to say wine could still not be made from our disregard of what came down first.
Little Oysters
Imagine.
100s and 1000s spread out through out the sea.
all with a hard shell that hides their insides.
you search and search for one thats special.
you know which one. the one with a pearl.
but you cant just go around opening them all up and seeing which one has the pearl you want.
you have to make a choice.
and make it good. take a chance.
you spend so much time searching for the one.
and you find one.
maybe it's the one.
perhaps this one has the pearl you want.
you try to open it.
you break a sweat.
it's hard to open.
you are afraid to hurt the creature.
for its not it's life you want..
it's that wonderful pearl.
you try and try to pry it open.
nothing.
so you wait.
it will open sooner or later.
you wait day and night by it's side.
hoping it will at least take a peek then that night comes.
the time you have been waiting for it opens up.
you look at it.
and what do you see?.
there are 100s and 1000s of us in the ocean.
not all of us have somthing that someone wants.
but they do not know whether we have it or not.
so they take a chance on us.
they try to open us up.
see whats inside.
but we are to afraid to let them in.
we have somthing to protect.
somthing of value.
and we can not let them get a hold of it.
that after all is all they want. but just to get it.
they will wait. night and day spend time by our sides hoping that we open up.
we grow tired of hiding.
and we...
just for a second...
open.
they take advantage.
nothing.
not one thing.
what a waste.
what a shame.
hour after hour .
watching.
waiting.
and nothing.
wasted time.
just discard it.
it's usless to have it around,
and when they see that nothing I have is of value to them they will go away.
destroy me.
and go out looking for more of us.
perhaps there is a chance.
maybe they will not kill us.
maybe they will return us to our home.
to be happy.
100s and 1000s spread out through out the sea.
all with a hard shell that hides their insides.
you search and search for one thats special.
you know which one. the one with a pearl.
but you cant just go around opening them all up and seeing which one has the pearl you want.
you have to make a choice.
and make it good. take a chance.
you spend so much time searching for the one.
and you find one.
maybe it's the one.
perhaps this one has the pearl you want.
you try to open it.
you break a sweat.
it's hard to open.
you are afraid to hurt the creature.
for its not it's life you want..
it's that wonderful pearl.
you try and try to pry it open.
nothing.
so you wait.
it will open sooner or later.
you wait day and night by it's side.
hoping it will at least take a peek then that night comes.
the time you have been waiting for it opens up.
you look at it.
and what do you see?.
there are 100s and 1000s of us in the ocean.
not all of us have somthing that someone wants.
but they do not know whether we have it or not.
so they take a chance on us.
they try to open us up.
see whats inside.
but we are to afraid to let them in.
we have somthing to protect.
somthing of value.
and we can not let them get a hold of it.
that after all is all they want. but just to get it.
they will wait. night and day spend time by our sides hoping that we open up.
we grow tired of hiding.
and we...
just for a second...
open.
they take advantage.
nothing.
not one thing.
what a waste.
what a shame.
hour after hour .
watching.
waiting.
and nothing.
wasted time.
just discard it.
it's usless to have it around,
and when they see that nothing I have is of value to them they will go away.
destroy me.
and go out looking for more of us.
perhaps there is a chance.
maybe they will not kill us.
maybe they will return us to our home.
to be happy.
Life on Mars
greetings from Venus you said.
loser in a contest with your ambitions.
weirder things have happened though.
seasons greeting were never as bright you know. where have most of the roses on your feathered hat wandered?
great, marooned we are, indeed congested in traffic like most
angels are.
my worries now lie in the hands of the beholder
life can't get less complicated as a result. foreseen are soothing times when the bottom of the barrel is picked clean.
like a mountain when it's snowing be one with the ice, cold shoulders, cold feet, frostbite is the next step.
warmth bears less burdens
but the closer you get to anything be it hot or cold.
burned is the flesh of intimacy
loser in a contest with your ambitions.
weirder things have happened though.
seasons greeting were never as bright you know. where have most of the roses on your feathered hat wandered?
great, marooned we are, indeed congested in traffic like most
angels are.
my worries now lie in the hands of the beholder
life can't get less complicated as a result. foreseen are soothing times when the bottom of the barrel is picked clean.
like a mountain when it's snowing be one with the ice, cold shoulders, cold feet, frostbite is the next step.
warmth bears less burdens
but the closer you get to anything be it hot or cold.
burned is the flesh of intimacy
Friday, July 1, 2011
Racket
I severed once the ties of our hopes.
and rigid were the songs that we shared.
rugged the shards of land that covered my home.
and my sight was the soul of the issue.
a beast of burden would be my weight and I would pull that crane through the rivers.
looking out and over the mountains the crows slashed the tires and rode the train on separate rails.
beaming with lights and sounds perilous antonyms thwarted a noun and as conspicuously as the night's role betrayed the loops of our knots
a wheel that turned the gears and moved our inspiration like the quarry of a wilderness
in negation to our cause. be it our cause unknown in divine understanding .
the world as a larger purpose.
we wandered the road and now off the rails
lead ourselves through this maze.
a maze of the mind that allowed us to grow and invade their ideas.
and beaten by the brushes as we collapsed into this abyss.
wild accusations of the boundary men
whom with their great mind and eyes blinded the facts of a reality that is nil.
so to build upon that fact we could not.
cept our own imagination create a new.
and go beyond our limits
and break these spirits with nothing but irrationality
which became the originality of our predications.
where did all the anthems of great warriors go?
morals be they rare ?
or in moderation,
nullified with our ideals.
qualified are they not?
willing the same?
why wander in the dusk and dark sultry that is our memory
in this octave that is life
and this metronome that is time.
they brag like their the best
with imagery so vain and effortless.
this monster
this creation .
large vast oceans of disease
and trickery.
oh jolly was the lamb as he soaked in his bravery.
I wish once so obscure as the wolf in the field.
once the sheep himself. praying to be bait for the capture.
an evil plan sprang forth like the livers of the king god
and ultimate powers.
where solid was the waste of their time.
Through the bowel they crept and with time we were born.
The fear of understanding and the acceptances of greatness.
weird eerie and faithless soul
bold drunken and wasteful being
the thoughts oppressed his hindered mind.
weak and without a chance.
it clenched it 's fist
with hope to love
Murmured its brother:
the heart is not yet sold.
for it to be bought we must seek it's buyer.
The buy went missing as they looked for a new hope.
new evils and new enemies.
friends family. lovers.
none to exist after symmetry from our reapers.
Confusion came from the depths of hell and DAMNED ARE THEY FOR IT.
Why break the time to spend it in vanity
why plunder in bliss and offend the lesser man?
heathens hypocrites. and those green with envy. seek truth and hope for misery.
and rigid were the songs that we shared.
rugged the shards of land that covered my home.
and my sight was the soul of the issue.
a beast of burden would be my weight and I would pull that crane through the rivers.
looking out and over the mountains the crows slashed the tires and rode the train on separate rails.
beaming with lights and sounds perilous antonyms thwarted a noun and as conspicuously as the night's role betrayed the loops of our knots
a wheel that turned the gears and moved our inspiration like the quarry of a wilderness
in negation to our cause. be it our cause unknown in divine understanding .
the world as a larger purpose.
we wandered the road and now off the rails
lead ourselves through this maze.
a maze of the mind that allowed us to grow and invade their ideas.
and beaten by the brushes as we collapsed into this abyss.
wild accusations of the boundary men
whom with their great mind and eyes blinded the facts of a reality that is nil.
so to build upon that fact we could not.
cept our own imagination create a new.
and go beyond our limits
and break these spirits with nothing but irrationality
which became the originality of our predications.
where did all the anthems of great warriors go?
morals be they rare ?
or in moderation,
nullified with our ideals.
qualified are they not?
willing the same?
why wander in the dusk and dark sultry that is our memory
in this octave that is life
and this metronome that is time.
they brag like their the best
with imagery so vain and effortless.
this monster
this creation .
large vast oceans of disease
and trickery.
oh jolly was the lamb as he soaked in his bravery.
I wish once so obscure as the wolf in the field.
once the sheep himself. praying to be bait for the capture.
an evil plan sprang forth like the livers of the king god
and ultimate powers.
where solid was the waste of their time.
Through the bowel they crept and with time we were born.
The fear of understanding and the acceptances of greatness.
weird eerie and faithless soul
bold drunken and wasteful being
the thoughts oppressed his hindered mind.
weak and without a chance.
it clenched it 's fist
with hope to love
Murmured its brother:
the heart is not yet sold.
for it to be bought we must seek it's buyer.
The buy went missing as they looked for a new hope.
new evils and new enemies.
friends family. lovers.
none to exist after symmetry from our reapers.
Confusion came from the depths of hell and DAMNED ARE THEY FOR IT.
Why break the time to spend it in vanity
why plunder in bliss and offend the lesser man?
heathens hypocrites. and those green with envy. seek truth and hope for misery.
Apples
A man can only take so much.
I being less than a man can take much less.
and have certainly surpassed my own means.
I need to deflate
for I have no more room in which to expand.
I have been pushed to far.
Played with for too long.
and I've held myself back
I know I'll regret it.
perhaps I won't
I've never once tried to have my cake and eat it too.
I'd much rather have it out of my sight then to die every moment I see it.
though I'd die if it were not in my sights and I'm dying cause it is out of my reach.
was I so vain as to believe I owned a star in the sky?
to selfish to realize that I can not own something I was never entitled to.
have I wasted so much time and effort building a thrown for another king?
ah, but I dine in the presence of such beauty ever so rarely.
and my word never so strong as to invoke the slightest of affection
My Love,
silence is the greatest of insults.
and absence brings the greatest of pains.
am I so pathetic as to worry of such trivialities?
am I not entitled to wonder if the fruits of my efforts have rot?
I fear my anger. for it may cost me more then my efforts.
but patience has worn ever so thin.
I want to vanish as quickly as I came.
though no matter how much pain I have been inflicted with I seek to stay one more day.
my need for knowledge will get the best of me.
Perhaps I've only been reaping what I have sown.
someone please bring me peace.
I being less than a man can take much less.
and have certainly surpassed my own means.
I need to deflate
for I have no more room in which to expand.
I have been pushed to far.
Played with for too long.
and I've held myself back
I know I'll regret it.
perhaps I won't
I've never once tried to have my cake and eat it too.
I'd much rather have it out of my sight then to die every moment I see it.
though I'd die if it were not in my sights and I'm dying cause it is out of my reach.
was I so vain as to believe I owned a star in the sky?
to selfish to realize that I can not own something I was never entitled to.
have I wasted so much time and effort building a thrown for another king?
ah, but I dine in the presence of such beauty ever so rarely.
and my word never so strong as to invoke the slightest of affection
My Love,
silence is the greatest of insults.
and absence brings the greatest of pains.
am I so pathetic as to worry of such trivialities?
am I not entitled to wonder if the fruits of my efforts have rot?
I fear my anger. for it may cost me more then my efforts.
but patience has worn ever so thin.
I want to vanish as quickly as I came.
though no matter how much pain I have been inflicted with I seek to stay one more day.
my need for knowledge will get the best of me.
Perhaps I've only been reaping what I have sown.
someone please bring me peace.
Anima Pt. 2
For the birds.
living is for the birds.let the early bird get the worm.
let the hawks eat the doves
and the crows live in their boastful bliss.
while the eagle has all the strength
let the peacocks flaunt in their vanity
Living is for the dogs.
where the bitch's bark is worse then her bite.
where the mutts fight only over bones rarely thrown by the masters
where the mongrels are conditioned to sit, stay and roll over for treats.
Living is for the pigs.
where filth and pleasure are one and the same.
let them eat and gorge all they want
let the swine slip on their shit with those contemptible hoofs.
the porkers will know slaughter comes after self indulgence.
Living is for the rats
where pack rats hoard food and leave nothing to the rest.
let the mice hide away in their fear, and negligence
let the rats betray the rest and intrude on what is not theirs.
where the mouse will own the world.
and pestilence and death will only be a result.
Living is not for me.
Anima Pt. 1
The mouse ran into his hole as the snake scavenged the lot
too big to fit in that tiny crevice it circles and slithers and hisses and bites.
The prey is just on the other side.
what lingers of his wholesome meal
is now out reach.
The horse eats her hay as the riders pick sides
a sugar cube for arousal
and a comb for her mane
then once her choice is made
(as if it were hers)
they beat her, and ride her and sting her with their spurs.
at first her fear gets the best of her and she runs.
and runs. and runs.
then, as it often would occur
she grows accustomed
accustomed to the blinders and the pain. and all her life from then on she runs.
the parrot quacked all his life
and was never understood.
he pokes his masters
would not eat. and was rarely ever good.
he stood alone in that cage
all day and all night.
he discovered with a certain squawk of rage
that something sounded right
his master noticed him as if he was a sage
the master fed him something good and he squawked like that with all his might
the pleasure of their understanding was the greatest of their gifts.
but with time one simple word was not enough
masters affection soon faded away.
he began to mimic things that were said in exchange for her appreciation
a rather scrumptious treat. and parrot never skipped a beat. for something sweet
the mouse decided not to hide.
for fear was no reward.
he left his hole into another
and was sadly eaten whole.
the horse rebelled against her tracks
she ran against the road.
was beaten, bruised and then put down
though her actions had been bold.
the parrot died fat and old. with little to attract.
his mimicry gained nothing but a sweet pat on the back.
he died the happiest of all cause he compromised his act
would learn from his mistakes. but made no choices of his own
too big to fit in that tiny crevice it circles and slithers and hisses and bites.
The prey is just on the other side.
what lingers of his wholesome meal
is now out reach.
The horse eats her hay as the riders pick sides
a sugar cube for arousal
and a comb for her mane
then once her choice is made
(as if it were hers)
they beat her, and ride her and sting her with their spurs.
at first her fear gets the best of her and she runs.
and runs. and runs.
then, as it often would occur
she grows accustomed
accustomed to the blinders and the pain. and all her life from then on she runs.
the parrot quacked all his life
and was never understood.
he pokes his masters
would not eat. and was rarely ever good.
he stood alone in that cage
all day and all night.
he discovered with a certain squawk of rage
that something sounded right
his master noticed him as if he was a sage
the master fed him something good and he squawked like that with all his might
the pleasure of their understanding was the greatest of their gifts.
but with time one simple word was not enough
masters affection soon faded away.
he began to mimic things that were said in exchange for her appreciation
a rather scrumptious treat. and parrot never skipped a beat. for something sweet
the mouse decided not to hide.
for fear was no reward.
he left his hole into another
and was sadly eaten whole.
the horse rebelled against her tracks
she ran against the road.
was beaten, bruised and then put down
though her actions had been bold.
the parrot died fat and old. with little to attract.
his mimicry gained nothing but a sweet pat on the back.
he died the happiest of all cause he compromised his act
would learn from his mistakes. but made no choices of his own
Keep my mind off the "joke"
there has always been a discrepancy that wails the inners of societies values.
an innate need for minuscule relevance that ignites the flames that bound our hierarchy together. ravaging the consequences and rearranging it's idea's so that we are lost in the boundaries of our own stupidity. it's a shame that we don't put much foresight in our needs and establish our own form of understanding with out fear of displaced dignity. we've been under the control of our own feelings and the responsibilities of chemicals that plague our horizons and blacken our hopes for happiness. nine rows of clouds that rain upon our parades. protesting against our wishes and discriminating against our means. parades become riots so easily.
jackals and hornets pillage the busts of our leaders.
we quake with a smile as the curators bound us by our teeth and disarm our curiosities.
loosen the grip.
tears us to shreds.
we know better then to rumble with the beasts.
but not to jump to our deaths.
the plank has broken.
the rivers fill with tears,
a memory that will be stuck with us for years
an innate need for minuscule relevance that ignites the flames that bound our hierarchy together. ravaging the consequences and rearranging it's idea's so that we are lost in the boundaries of our own stupidity. it's a shame that we don't put much foresight in our needs and establish our own form of understanding with out fear of displaced dignity. we've been under the control of our own feelings and the responsibilities of chemicals that plague our horizons and blacken our hopes for happiness. nine rows of clouds that rain upon our parades. protesting against our wishes and discriminating against our means. parades become riots so easily.
jackals and hornets pillage the busts of our leaders.
we quake with a smile as the curators bound us by our teeth and disarm our curiosities.
loosen the grip.
tears us to shreds.
we know better then to rumble with the beasts.
but not to jump to our deaths.
the plank has broken.
the rivers fill with tears,
a memory that will be stuck with us for years
Noting (nothing) on my mind
the defect of the brain.
Total immunity to thought, I've contemplated worse before but I have nothing on my mind. I used to scheme like those villains in the comic books. I would plan and plan away. like construction workers. know the big picture before you make any moves. blue prints to human nature. build up a case. Detach oneself from the terms that are set. watch things happen. wait. then be happy.
nothing appears in the bleak future. Minor schemes. no big picture.
the foil of plans come when arrogance and inferiority clash.
spill those beans, monologue, Self destruct those plans you've set ever so diligently.
ah, foiled again. back in the cell. scheme scheme scheme,
ahaaa!
no.
it required more work then I'm willing to put into it.
like a leach wait for them to come to you.
latch on. suck.
sustenance
more time to scheme.
arrogance and miscommunication will lead to detachment
run, I've been foiled again.
damn those monologues
damn my arrogance.
damn you do-gooders
Total immunity to thought, I've contemplated worse before but I have nothing on my mind. I used to scheme like those villains in the comic books. I would plan and plan away. like construction workers. know the big picture before you make any moves. blue prints to human nature. build up a case. Detach oneself from the terms that are set. watch things happen. wait. then be happy.
nothing appears in the bleak future. Minor schemes. no big picture.
the foil of plans come when arrogance and inferiority clash.
spill those beans, monologue, Self destruct those plans you've set ever so diligently.
ah, foiled again. back in the cell. scheme scheme scheme,
ahaaa!
no.
it required more work then I'm willing to put into it.
like a leach wait for them to come to you.
latch on. suck.
sustenance
more time to scheme.
arrogance and miscommunication will lead to detachment
run, I've been foiled again.
damn those monologues
damn my arrogance.
damn you do-gooders
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