My perfect soul.

She the perfect match;

Im not heightening a white flag.

To blow in the breeze of our past, waring love.

invisible bombs dropping in our heads as thoughts,

Tankful actions to betray me…

May the land minds of our words,

Self destruct, may the tank lose course,

May the spiralling bombs around us, to cease.

The end of our war, belongs to future loves.

May they be more understanding, less prideful.

May the war cease, the flag to hover whilst blue jay’s pass nearby;

May the sun set whilst you’re smiling in-front of him.

May your smile stay bold and flawless,

You deserve to be content, i do know.

I love you…

To lose your massive pride,

Would mean to me, that I’m worth it too, am i?

@vincecarre My writing instagram

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The Rose that Knew no-limits.

As the rose tells me of the struggles it faced, yet succeeded.

The rain dripping, the wind challenging; as she blow’s in the wind,

Her root’s, her family of flowers. never cease development;

always amounting to success, strength. She appears the strongest,

Her root system, strengthens those from “beneath”. and the pedals one day, will reach the heavens.

As a well guided team, under the commandment of the “largest” head of the rose; within the traditional themed garden.

Bringing the less strong up, with nutrition. They’re bringing the ground with the team. Nothing gets left behind. As the ground lift’s,

It spirals with the rooting system attached. The angel’s shine the sun, to lift, the mass of soil.

The ground, shall never be without its beauty. They need one-another, the humbleness of the “grounding”

needs the beauty of the rose garden – they’re as a separate society, within the mass of society.

Hovering Away from the Scene of a crime.

Ego soar’s incredibly, happiness circles the body, and i feel the warmth exiting… The shell becomes punctured to the other side… My old self dies off – my soul releases – i’m reborn – a cloudy-spirit ascends, i begin gravitating, over my body. I look in every direction, notice every detail. I look upon my old self – my body appears projecting a painting of everything i went through And the end is freedom, from the past destructiveness. It feels surreal, overwhelming my spirt, I begin to “hover” away from the scene of the crime….

The Devil that plays the Guitar of an Angel

Coasting the clear sea, I take-out my binoculars. as i’m looking thru – there’s a lovely song playing, with a guitar – Within the scope i notice a lovely woman playing this, the clock turns and eventually i get to the island, tie my boat, there’s a rope that’s been lit with a light – i think to myself strange, as i continue along the island, the music gets more aggressive; and lovely – The sky turns a dark colour, as begin to walk the island the music influences my body. I begin gravitating to the music, it’s vibrations so meaningful, pleasant, unique. My body shifts left-to-right, i begin to feel euphoric, the music is alike a drug. It separates my soul from my body – her character. My body peels from my bright soul – The music takes ahold more, i can feel the vibrations so deep within, my spirit quickly shoots towards the instrument, i feel the control take affect, my spirit shakes, I can feel my body die… I can feel the scratching of the strings on the piece. I begin seeing 360 degrees, just then my soul gets captured within the red guitar…

The Fall of a, Sad Lad

looking around my cell, the walls have beautiful patterns, a large smiling face; the walls are dripping, the dripping begin to hit my eye – It passes thru my eye to the other side of my skull… my other eye blinks – their shall be good times, upon a rainbow, of euphoric beauty, of what will be? Their shall be a happy ending, i wonder…. ? The floor begins to shake, the concrete begins to descend, it hits the ground slowly, and hard. I begin to blow around the building, hitting the now manipulated walls. The ceiling comes down… she catches me, before hitting my grave. I wake up, and i begin to look around… contemplate my vivid dream… Realizing it’s simply a dream, in reality, she wouldn’t have directed me to freedom, lifted me out of the cell that she created – The cell smells of beauty – But i’m still within, and the good moments she promised are in my mind, keeping stranded. I begin to shake, i begin to get angry, a butterfly comes towards and hits the wall, it splatters. Once again the ground begins to shake, and i begin…

The Crow and the Wine cellar

in the cellar, are plenty of wine bottles, the flavours are plentiful. As i pick my flavour, i see a rat come out of the door, he shifts and quickly runs, as a bottle hits the floor, i wonder if the clock is moving at a pace i’m unsure of… i go back to selecting my drink for the night… i pick a lighter bottle…. I walk up the stairs… i close the door behind me it creeks – i conclude i should put WD-40 onto the hinges… i keep my pace up the stairs however. As i’m walking upwards i realize that it’s a more spiral set of stairs, i keep ascending the rocky stair case. And i finally come into the light of the hallway… and notice it’s a pigeon engraved bottle… I go towards my living room, thru the hallway… I sit upon the table so i can see out thru the window… I begin to drink my bottle of alcoholic enjoyment. I ponder what happened during the cellar trip. However i conclude that it’s best if i keep a hopeful and happy mindset as i drink my beverage.. i take a few sips… I start to sink into depression, the madness of the night shoots thru my mind awfully and plentiful… i feel my liver stunned in pain and unable to process the beverage once more… as i’m thinking of death – i see crow outside the window…. I start coughing blood at a quick rate.. I fall off the hard table, i begin screaming – however i’m the only one home and the only one around… i begin to shift towards my landline, but i don’t have the strength, and i keenly remember i didn’t pay my phone bill, due to the fact that i needed to add my wine to my cellar… My body begins to shake, my skin feels dead….

Two days later the paramedics: find my body, my liver stopped functioning normally and died

Clones, puppets, Actors.

They’re talking but nothing’s being said they’re portraying other individual, taking everybody’s, but their own identity. They live day-by-day to build theirselves up, their ego lifts because they’re being accepted for the whole of society, rather than their own. they’re expert marketers and could believe in their illusive selves, to me their ghost, clones, instruments of god, the souls are forever trapped beneath a layer of flesh and bones. It wants out but the devil chained it up, and took it prisoner. Rather than seeing that they’re hallow. They’re running like a clock to another’s beat, as a real person walks, he sees all the actors/puppets. Acting to the tune of his steps, tap, tap, another’s way of life. And furthermore bringing that individual down, as he sees everything that could break another, tare them to pieces…. But he stays in silent.

Fireworks Within a Mind

Fireworks are exiting my brain, they’re bright and combust lately with ease. They’re effortless and enjoyable… Beautiful thoughts are within my head powering these powdery fires – The music flows within the room, The fireworks grow in strength, exiting quicker; I hope they continue, they progress, I look around and things feel excellent. I feel content and the fireworky ego is alike meth, happy pulses cruise within my head, across… sometimes the ego going upwards is one of the best feelings in the world.

My Choice

The days are passing quickly, the trees are leafing well…  Where there was snow and chilling, there’s now, flowers, the ice has turned to a river, the sun begins to show earlier… my emotions seem constant and better than before… I look in the mirror and my reflection begins to feel like my own… my actions feel myself, I look to God, but never thank him, because to me, it feels like he’s given the worse, and he’s tested me… so i blame myself, because at the end of the day we have free-will, we have choices and our actions are often our own… when i had nobody to look to, to turn to, i saw God hovering above me and making my days worse, he often felt devilish… to give him what i earned, isn’t me. I gave him enough praise… As i walk my path i see all those who used and abused me, they’re grinning when they should be sympathetic, but that’s not them. they’re heavenly teachers. The devils minions… They’re hardened and soulless, because to them i’m a piece to be moved, a body they want to cut-off. To them i’m nothing, but to myself I’m my greatest teacher, my only God. And that’s the way it should feel and be, because when we start giving our accomplishments over to anyone, then we’re supporting something we can’t see, and subjecting ourself to insecure patterns, words, character.

Alcoholic Beverage

Good times, often do not last. The sun shines from above, my misery is going downwards. My eyes water, my hands shake, and i’m needing one more drink, one more better time. I try to escape a past that i’ve already escaped, i’m a survivor, now the phobias multiply my negative thoughts, to the point where i’m angry beyond measure, sad near suicidal, as i head to the beer store, they quickly bring back, where my dreams ended- Where i could not, say no, it captured me early on, as a kid, took my hand, walked me to a leprechauns lucky whisky bottle. now it’s everything i despise, yet, love. I go home, and drown myself into the unforgiving substances. Until the point where my head can’t think logically, to the point where i can’t walk, yet i challenge myself, to drink more, and be more… the pressure eats me alive, the stress took away my control… dignity, and led me astray, yet i’d ask the bartender for another molson…. The sun has vanished, and the only thing in the sky is raindrops…