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ARCHAIC KEYEDthe strings tied to endless intentions
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15 febbraio rawsnow moves in sideways
against the pale panes stressed
the wooden frames then bend
from the bitter conditions inward pressed
the weak heat welcomes a sheet of cold
crevices let seep in chill and dreadful things
the face and ends turn numb and blue
and in solitude the night will hang
nay winter night, but this is misery feeling nice
with a heart deep burried thrice.
06 febbraio give init took no time
for hands to be held
to be led out of the dark
into that little black box
to take a kiss
to share a word
held and wanted
for my head to be inverted
tounge-tied, words few
the blush on the cheek
a breathe, an intake
70,000 pores feel it
and im taken in.
30 gennaio futilecut the apple from the bearing limb
a sinful act to make on a futile whim
with a thorn upon the broken branch
will be a wicked wound to stanch.
29 gennaio toucheooh how criminal you are
tut tut backward slide
go find a crevice, a hole
some lowly place to hide.
24 gennaio giftboxsee Gentlewoman reeks
being one makes them weak
so then often smells like humility
gives gifts frequently
asks the questions often nought
finds the ones never sought
then Gentlewoman gains
though often with many pains
strives to befit you, guest or host
Gentlewoman there, you to boast
if not for them to live, then surely you
to live a life selfishly selfless, dire, and true
17 gennaio pick metrip on crooked streets crack oh find sweet honey scent oozing out from the wicked weeds sticky good, yellow paint on skin dont care if no ones around im a loner in a restless field killing time with a hunting mind toy with a dead crickets legs peeled a gang of swallows sweep im feeling warmth of sun an itch on knee from blades green leave one button undone my viewpoint blotted distress upon my little head a sinching smell of overwarmed hair oh monster, youve been fed got a repellant look on my face hands stop redundant noise going into ear cut and bled from tallgrass being alone is different here. 02 dicembre chasewicker chest
red velvet heart
threaded lashes
own water mark
words in ink
stitched to skin
peirced marrow
lungs made thin.
29 novembre droneand then it is
just how it is meant to be
whatever respite you throw on
still only the opposite of tranquility
it is life and life it is
that we cannot have.
and maybe this is with death
can you not think more opposite?
in what worldy seizure would have to occur
a cessation of mortality or time
for life to be perfected
and though neighboring to right
it is only wrong
to contimplate the actions you could have made
your frequent mistakes
it is a clear and steady line
to which is laid
and which can be said no mistakes are made
just action in the disorderly
tangled lines of progression
and this is the repose
this is the opportunity
to say life it is
and it is life
that we cannot have. {repost}basically. who fucking has the strings tied to all these archaic things?
and how can such an archaic thing be ever changing?
these strings seem elastic to me
to tug is to be struck by vibrating conditions
that set things in motions only to settle into tradition
temporary tradiation also known as routine
its so obscene though not effortless trying
more effort needed than simply tugging
you need a catastrophic force to dig yourself out
or at least find the maker of the strings
if you cut them you have no ownerships
but im sure it would ease lifes hardships in this timethe correlation is
that were all going to lose
just eventually
and if i could make an analogy to show
i would
i would make it and it would cue
some manifestation of truth and knowledge
but all i can say
is to give up and be emotionless
no better feeling than this
its not apathetic
just a way to survive
until the time come again
and i say again
that you can live
without being indifferent
withinim so angry within myself
these treasons ive made
upon my own gravitations
could i not possibly live
without conducting falsehoods
do i stand for nothing
more than vanity, truths one insanity
am i so insecure that i cannot feel
am i willing to be in that position
that i am the spineless.
empirelike im stuck on repeat
lets climb the empire state building
and on the glass we will conduct
some audacity
writing down these sins weve made
my first and last mistake
and who shall it be climbing with me
probably somebody
but i cant think who
other than maybe my shadow
though,
my shadow's just as ashamed of me.
28 novembre lovesongto me to sing
I've only found in verse
so I sit to write
thinking myself an Emily
and now I'm questioning
her intentions
did she not search it
or maybe as I
found love a religion
to which nothing is true
as much as it is false.
what ownership is there on earth
when what is given
is not recieved.
I speak of this grudge
and I'm finding it not a folly
of the those whove played
but the ground on which they have.
some holy ground this used to be
i say it religion truly
i wish it's certainity upon the best.
what a grudge I have.
do you not feel the same
I render it no longer a compromise
and if this is visions master
than I shall be blind.
i used to pity her soul
but now I must pity mine
for humanity I made its curator
whose hands are filthy things.
did not she not die alone
not a recluse just askew.
and with ability to define...
what is this!
other than death
not withstanding to mourn
inclusive to hurt...
do not think this for one
as it may be rumoured.
it is a command for many
in fact most all
to see the fault they've laid on me
no doubt others equally
I'm already tired of its institutions
and I am yet young
and yet I'm not worn
of what I hope is forthcoming
the defination I nearly laid to rest.
then shall it be
if I havent known it yet
I am saved
from earths love and wrath.
27 novembre teeaspersion
to which to label this
for if it is for disenchantments sake
i have no other fabrication to gain. restitchedshall i say it again
again and again
and again...
is it necessary
for me to repeat
the cause of my rapture
the reason ive lost
it is you
its is you
it is you
it is you
collectively.
partially youre a pity
in mass a tick
of stitches torn for this.
well wornin the distance
far apart
developed anguish
a pang in heart
not for loss
but what to heed
another tick
pinched to concede
25 novembre 2000 and 5i used to think you different
just an idol of my idle mind
yet what has time cached?
made me forget such a blessed thing.
ive tripped upon, and upon again
and here my mind falls
and im thinking you the same
just an idol of my idle mind
far more deserving than tangible things.
eternalwhat i want
is to be eternally alone
not in the sense that i have no one
but in the sense that there is no one
to be uncomplicated by the unparallel
to be at ease
for all anyone has ever done
is to define me less than i thought i was
youre only there to make me lose
and all i want to do is win
find a tangent
grow from it
take your cargo, your words and thoughts
leave the system leave my life.
should have stayed 3.
22 novembre mirkhow good is a puddle of mirk
tis good i say
tis with all the mud in it
with bits of green blades and gravel
'n maybe glass to lighten it
with bugs n such
drowned at rains disperse
oh watch it converse
with the sidewalk
chalked when dry
just let me step in it
'n let me get you wet
and i would laugh at it.
how mirk looks upon skin.
the mirky skin your now in.
21 novembre -i dont follow
when status is created by masses
theres nothing grand
just a stack of names on media wings
and things
they are used
pitiful statues
i much rather have a title
unknown. giver or such.
than have my portrait hung
for ornament reasons.
waves of grainfortress locks of debutant
brassy waves
nay cool nor gold
just gently sweep
when not done
they're in the way
should be golden opportunity
should be tresses.
shouldnt be waves of grain.
20 novembre selfComplications! cease to exist
body soul and mind - the overused trinity
in any case im so tired of these three
they wont agree
simply the incasement does not know the other two
and the other two just toil through
its what they do to me
and my indecision is due to these.
03 novembre mindworks.curate unequivelent exchange be bystander, beget knowledge, action is substandard. poe's protagonist versus newtons subject. let the pendulum swing and nothing react. brave mentality. tut.red ribbon
electric cord
bullentin board
postage stamp
compact mirror
attic window
country squire
prison cell
kitchen stove
apple cider
bowling pin
driving glove
empty stall
calender page
delicate lace
candy striper
harvest moon
wooden spoon
cob web
tea kettle
parking ticket
pathos predictament.
spinningspin gravity off the heasy
and pretend like luke skywalkers hand just malfunctioned
get scared
hes the hero
spin gravity fucking harder
fall flat
get a bit sick
fucking mess of a room
and im through.
im content spinning.
oi whats with the shoes.
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