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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Book

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….

Crackhead

Men that grew up like concrete, became liquified.

Hard time’s hit, they were’t prepared, they were immature.

Their soul’s got black, their eyes hallow, their posture wrong.

They search, the darkness of the streets, for the future that was once promised.

They found a white rock instead, sent by the devil himself, wrapped in a future, that will never arrive.

streets take ahold, the crack pipe warmed, their eyes drip.

their lungs ache, their heart need ease, but all they see, is what they came to believe.

Within the future they see narrowly, at the end of this vision – there’s a door, key hidden out-of-sight.

The future within the rock, the door that has been locked.

One miserable time, and they soon became a slave, to what they’ve been desiring.

For their dream, their life fades, winter shall never be over.

Fentanyl. Crack. Bodies Stack

Crack floods the streets, spreading out like a web, affecting those in it, prayed upon by the spider, black, and cold – pockets become large. music vibrates and enjoyed by the arachnid… Heightening the ego, furthering the destruction, the crack pipe becomes hot; the crack depleted – The piles of money grow, their families prosper, their soul’s become devilish, their eyes grow deep, their eyes bloodshot, their grip tightens – Rapper’s fighting to be seen, drug dealer’s fighting to be seen, the crack man, want’s death, his next fix – but never repairs anything – he want’s to fade away… death’s becoming vast, across Canada, crack strengthens, mixed with fentanyl… the bodies begin to stack, they begin to heighten; bodies shake, their heart seizes, their heart stops pumping as it did… but still the drug dealer heighten his “flow”.

Lifting the Clouds with a God

Euphoric mind, pondering what had happened today… all the good, the little bad… I’m hopeful and content with the world… as i sip my beers my happiness increases to a great level.. the world feels perfect.. feels as if everything’s going to be great, or at the least alright.. feels as if my worries are over… my past is the past… and i’m headed for the heavens, hanging out with God, pouring excellent liquor and snorting some premium drugs… our bodies lifting the clouds… lifting the clouds to to near space… we see a saucer going by, waving at the aliens… hello…

In an abandoned town.

Society appears calculated. Actors all-over… my ego lifts upwards, downwards. i pray for the days it remains constant. Rather than fluctuating to ridiculous declines and bumping upward – to the point where i can’t breathe, downwards to the point I’m near suicidal. I pray for the days that no-longer feel dreadful, ones where there’s sunny times, and days where it wouldn’t pour, wouldn’t hail – i see weather as an indication of my mood. And weather is forever inconsistent – I want my life back, one where i make the decisions and i’m in-control of everything, the dance is becoming repetitious.. The actors grow aggressive, the puppets unaware and brutal. All-while people tell me that my life’s great… but i doubt everything they say, because i can no-longer trust anything, everything’s changing and i feel stuck within an abandoned town. Someone aggravated the nature within and I’m the only one that can survive within, the only one who can drink the water within the wells, eat the plants, enjoy the cancerous ridden water… everyone wants to collect my pieces of my soul, for their taking… they chip at it one-by-one, accelerating my death…. as i sip on vodka, it helps reconstruct who i am, replenishes the ego, helps the day’s pass, hopefully to the point where i won’t need it, where i’m no longer stuck in this town… In this trap. God seemingly disappeared and all i see is the devil with an exceptional mask, telling me to treat everyone with respect, as they destroy every piece that was me, is me. Chiselling my character, creating a seemingly “real” one… but i doubt everything those two say, i believe that i’m alone, and I’m nourishing myself with deadly substances. And the devil’s unforgiving and angry at me. The devil has it out for me…. perhaps the cloud’s won’t disappear, and the sun won’t shine again… that’s probably the most difficult mess within my life…

Coke, beer. Dead

My drinks cold, my jobs done, I’m wondering if this is the height of my life… the absolute moments, that i’ll treasure in my old age… the moments that will be everlasting… i feel it isn’t…. but yet, this is the life i’ve been given… will it get any better? or is happiness at the bottom of a budweiser… at the end of a coke line. Both seem spectacular; although living life must be more spectacular? i often wonder if I’m sociopathic and substance is the only way ill ever enjoy life once more… so i hit the line, drink a beer and wish for the better times to come, the ones where I’m not panicking and drunk, the times were ill enjoy the planet for what it is, not for a chemical substance that’s suppose to bring happiness…. Our god’s have brought us more, yet we sit around snorting chemicals, smoking substances to escape what? a full life, a meaningful one, a life that’s heavily enjoyed… in our sober states we have a world of exploring, enjoyable times worth mentioning, yet we chase a liquified dream, a deadly substance to escape a heavenly world? Yet this is what most of us have chosen… but not i, they’ll be memories worth mentioning roads explored, and beautiful, happy times… and it won’t be through a chemical.

The Butterfly.

The flower’s bloom outside, as we sit and socialize, the minutes turn to hours… the weather shifts to anew, like our complicated relationship…it’s ever-changing, and very enjoyable – within a forest, i look around, and begin to protect myself from those around. i embrace her being, her whit, her unusual personality, she’s began to fly, and visit within the forestry. i’ve cocooned – i’m not in a rush to deconstruct my thick protective layer – it suits me for the time being, a wall to keep those around out, as she ventures and flourishes and mingles with the other wildlife, i sit, wrapped in a layer of social-repellent.  However i become emotionally down due to the fact that we’re apart in maturity…. she sees me as lesser i see her as forever.  Which compels me to make things different, change, grow. as she heightens like the trees around, so do i… but she has years on me and at times i feel as a kid. and that’s the way she views me, friend zoned by a grand friend.