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….

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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.

Sadness in the tunnel of the forgotten

Searching for meaning in the darkness. Everywhere i look, feels hopeless; I continue to search but there isn’t a light to be found, drips land from the eyes, but nobody hears the splash – lacking concern. Can i be found? Will they appear. Or is this an endless tunnel of once was. Old experiences, become fond memories. In doubt and continuing, my legs feel heavy, what i was once dreamt is of no-more – togetherness. Searching the piped-land. I’ve considered the white rock, if anything, it will bring me closer to God. Is that what i want? in this tunnel of once was?

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…

Death by Overdose

The rock forms around the water – individuality is dead, society became duplicated – the printer, prints; never slowing to decide on its ethical stand – conformists. Living within a world we look to television for our fashion – the personality doesn’t blossom as it previously had, the pedals drift in the wind – negativity remains. strong hate stays, They’re marching in a  single-fashion, their one size boots hitting the ground with vigorousness – the blue jacket stands out in the darkness. The soul, searching for different, never quite finding the spark; they see dead frowns mass produced; eyes appear sad, overworked, overused, their face is old, and hungering for another fix. Time continues and shall bring change, the junkies die, the dealer’s find a bullet – their organs, fail and their bodies shake – A pipe falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a sweet release, the shadow comes out, and sinks beneath -Danced with the devil, He overcame their mind with ease, and destroyed the GAME. One by one, they met their fate.

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”.

Possible Death

Tears do not release from my ducts, i know they’re looking for freedom; the heaviness of the world keeps them captive, flowers that grew so quickly, become brown, the pedals are falling, finding release in the air… the wind carrying them away, and seemingly vanishing instantly – The Earth is becoming heavy upon my back. My back aches, my legs tighten, my tears won’t shed, and i’m seemingly alone. Butterfly’s remind me of how she made me feel, what she did for me, my hope disappears. As i remember the times we’ve shared, i pin-point each location we’ve talked about; they’re coming towards with quick, ease. They begin a shadow of irrational thoughts within my mind, haunting my heart. Each emotions feels strongly hit, almost knocking me down, yet my my mind won’t let forget, my legs won’t strengthen to carry my new load. Another butterfly surrounds my body…. I look up and the flowers are looking more horrid, the time tick’s slow, my heart pounds… and i begin….

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The True Ruler.

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.

Depression

i bleed from my ears… i drip out of the nose… my eyes are bloodshot and tired. and i’m looking to the horizon of our circular planet. i pray that it’ll be morning more quickly this time, i almost didn’t make it last night, it was too hard, too depressing, I could’ve taken my life, the time stricken me of my will… I beg the sun to help me. Each morning when the roaster shouts, i feel calm and happy… but tonight, i’m feeling the sun won’t cast it’s peaceful aura. i shout at the clouds, it doesn’t comprehend the depth of what i feel, doesn’t understand the depth of how the moon has shaken me, destroyed my being… i look to the sun… as a brother. it looks to be as another selfish person, using it’s shine, for my growth, but i’m shouting, you’re using me for my internal light, your growth, because i’m the only one that’s contributing to the pain … it doesn’t know i’ve given my all, given everything i’ve admired and loved… because the sun is the selfish one. The moon shines, and it begins thunder-storming.

Woman, with a Chilly Heart

My sadness descends – dangerously low… i feel like I’m headed towards a rocky death… She wants too much of me, she’ll take everything i possess and give me a cold shoulder, an angry face… she forgets the times that i’ve given much…. i’ve supported her, helped build her being… but all this is forgotten in the heat of the moment. her eyes penetrate me, i sink into depression….. I feel lifeless once the eyes hit me. I feel unsupported and betrayed. I thought she was excellent… i’m finding that she’s like the rest… an illusive conquest. Her imagery is fake, it’s see thru, like the ghosts she once fancied. she wanted little today, yet held it like it was her one dream through-out her life… her last cigarette. I fear i’ll fall, and she won’t be there to catch me, because even though her shoulders cold… it’s friendly to me. it cared when nobody else did, so i walk towards the devilish bone. But i fear there will be more sacrifices and feelings going upwards… that i’ll have to face, that’ll later haunt me, alike her presence…