there were sheep, wolves, pigs, and velvet ropes. The instructor, was often smiling with a large and antagonizing smile. He reeked of gin and an odour, that triggered the nostrils to cease to breath, he smelt of success, and achievement. His ego was large. His muscles tiny. he began to stumble – over the time of the games… He teased each category. made them maneuver to a beat of his own violin, his red and well strung piece of musical sadness. His tone was aggressive and be-lilting, his hands were tightening as the animals were slow at progressing through the maze. He began to get angry… annoyed at humanity.… He wanted more, he wanted better… he wanted perfection… As the days progressed the being’s would lose their individuality, their dignity, their balls. And each day, this pig, this ruler, would strengthen his games, intensify their work… All while he sat above and grinned with pleasure, his alcoholic lips, lick his lips
he believes in conformity, and relentlessly begins to achieve it – Throughout our society… this man is strong, and ever-so powerful, and he won’t stop… he cannot stop… this world is his for the taking. And each category of animal is for his eating, he chows souls for breakfast, hearts for lunch, and tears for dinner. He sings an awfully dark tune in the morning, that frightens each animal, he sings it without heart and only knows the horrid words, he only understands ruthlessness and betrayal… He pawns each animal, he maneuvers them to stay dedicated, and keep up the rhythm. he yells loudly when they step out-of-line… and he strengthens their mind with his destructive words. And these words grip the soul and bring it down to his level, he dines with the devil, he goes to the games with hitlers, and sparks up a cigarette with Stollen. Drinks his liquid with the Masons.
As i go around the zombies – too messed up from her potions to think. Theyre pulling ideas out in a frozen mind, unaware im walking past, no thought train to conduct. Theyre not aware, of what they should do. As i move towards the housing complex, i see the witch staring at me, her dead gaze, cutting through.
As i remember the good times, seperating the potions that i conjured. I remember, thinking to myself, she looks so beautiful… i think too myself, while walking up the stairs. Is something wrong? Is she really trapped within, which is which – im starting to lose my memory of everything we did, talked about…
reality feels like its slipping. The area, seems fogged, hard to walk forwards, light shines from within the eyes, stars are present. The thinking slower…
The stairs are of metal, chilly, in these shoes… ice hanging from the small apartment-like unit windows. Frost consuming the floors. I walk upwards, during this large staircase… slippery to the feet. As i try to keep gripping and move up, i can hear the laughing from above, growing with strength.
I finally get to the top, shes standing infront. the 80’s wall paper – looks terrible… to the front as i look, she begins to project an image, of 4… they create a vortex, using her chilly breath – i cant tell which is which….
The clock tower pulsates, vibrations surrounding. Pink, soft. As the pulsations grow more quickly. The tower’s roof flies off – she watches… her breeze flows in, warming up the mechanism, allowing it to move, more sharply and warm. She repairs the roof of the castled, clock. The window, is tempered, but the breeze overcomes the clock, nature versus material personality type, joint affection. The picture will morph? Single minds however.
The breeze carries the clock HALF away, beneath, the structure stands tall. Within is a glass window, looking out, knew the mechanisms within were faulty. They were broken by a wench. The tower’s roof lifted. Within a whole. As the people looking watched the breeze take it away.
As artificial distance remains… im constantly reminded of the memory and physicalness of what you’ve brought. A bouqet of different traits, that make-up a beautiful personality. Growing the heart vigorusly. It pumps, a delightful beat, towards the presentation of the flower’s. As the flower’s strengthen im further gravitating upwards, in pursuit of the heaven’s in which you stand. My chest can no-longer keep what’s your’s captive. I begin to move towards the lighting, within the sky…. the white fluffy clouds seperate. And im looking for the beauty of your face but it remains away.
i want to “craddle” your heart, stich it with golden thread, hoping the light pour’s from out; instead of the hurt you carry around; toss it through the hoop within my chest. As it casts, butterflies surrounding, inserting within your chest, going towards the stomach… creating a feeling of intensity, that you’ll treasure forever. As the brain analyzes, it will heat, steam will arise from the head… i did present everything i’ am. You’ll accept the invitation; i hope.
As our relationship progressed, i was hopeful, as i carried along. I didnt notice hazardous messages, slow down, wrong lane. So i pursued, i overcame, and was missdirected. i was in pursuit of large climbing efforts… Those climbing efforts showed my weaknesses.
she used a catapult, ontop the peak to launch me. As i fell toward’s the rivery forest area nearby. She watched cross legged with a cigarette in her hand, unphazed.
As i lost hope, on survival mode. the transition to darkness of the night occured… i could hear wolves howl – and her demonic laughs, as one. Until the darkness sucked me in, with everything i showed her.
The mind plays with the heart, as the game is played. The heart progresses upwards; mind left behind. As the smokey heart is forwarding; her cigarettes fog – beauty in the negatives are are tormenting the two. As the heart quickens, cigarettes become burnt, alcohol lessens, frowns present. Struggling to gain, while even her bad habits i appreciate – her. Within her i look, it becomes reflective of myself in the fogginess of her heart shapped mirror. Doing all for everyone; same time being so cruel, yet so magical.
As she turns away from love; i know she’s wanting me to come closer. Her words of negativity, memories special – unbelievable. As she grips her witch-like-stick. I know it’s of plastic, her red hair, of a front. Seeing past, an illusion. Looking towards her soul, impressed. As i gently pull the stick away, she sheds a tear. Finally?
Everything makes me think of you. Your word’s morphed to everything i love, what interests me now is what you’ve layered ontop my interests, of but what i’ve grown to admire – abstract personality, taking time for me to grow to love, like life. As two breaths enter. One heart pounds. As one searches – she’s forever hopeful to find, the one that beats insync, that will ponder her personal-projection. As i watched the film. My heart shall project the bulb. Of the shadowy masterpiece – once victim, survivor, my lover.