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…

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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.

Shadowy Gripped

I take a sip of beer, realizing that my demise is soon. the shadowness of alcoholism, is creeping up, and gravitating with his fingery hold… finger by finger, attaching itself to my being… it’s grip is cold and scaly… it’s shadowy feeling… is creating an uneasy feeling, a cold and unforgiving one…. slowly by slowly my liver is giving out, it’s hurting more and more, as the days progress i feel the evil man tightening his grip. His hold is strong, and his nails are sharp… He’s beginning to hurt my arm, i tell him no! but he has an evil smile on his face, on that screams, victim… as i sip my beverage i sink into a horrid depression, and i look on the calendar… but i don’t see much days, let alone weeks… i scream out to God, but we’ve grown distant…

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

Cycling Towards a Goal

battling the shadows within my mind, a constant fight. they’re using more sophisticated weaponry, advanced targeting systems, spiralling around my mind, detaching reality from within, betraying my beliefs, my agenda…. it feels as-if everything i’ve done in the name of a better life is for nothing, the hard times will be forever… I look to my friends and family for support, but i’m alone. it’s time to call it quits… but something in me keeps wanting what i cannot have. wanting the best. So that side of me will not give up, it moves forward and drags the other side, along… Forever in a constant cycle, of what feels good, mixed with what would be make the best results… so i strengthen up and build myself a future that i’ll be proud of. Forever running a marathon that i may complete…. cycling to my goals in a constant way, playing catchup with what’s not meant for me.

My Momma’s roots.

the roots underneath the tree, help the tree develop, get nourishment, stay strong in the hard winter months. The chilly months would have stricken the trees potential, but the strong roots keep it stabilized, humbled. This root system, is along with the others, helping the forest, the whole of society. each root has a vital role. To help the tree survive and grow strong enough….. she’s the roots within my life, the backbone, the ever expanding strength that the tree needs to maintain it’s growth. She, needs the tree for her retirement… but the roots cannot see to the heavens alike the tree.

Rich Doctors, Poor Drug Addicts.

Drug addicts line the streets of every major city and towns near by, searching for their next fix… running within a hamster wheel, for the ultimate high… While they slowly poison theirselves with a mixture designed in a lab, prescribed by doctors… The doctor’s within the downtown section, are rich beyond need-be. While they over-prescribe to drug addicts. Selling their soul for a short-term gain….. As i sit outside of my coffee shop located near the downtown section, i see doctors and other important men, pull up in foreign automobiles, while drug addicts pull up in rusted shit-boxes…. and fill the majority of the parking lot, with their dangerously un-safe car’s. They produce foul language, and destructive words. Pulling each other down, while everyone of them, is trying to one-up-the-next. When they haven’t earned the slightest bit of respect for themselves. they respect the doctors that are helping to kill them… because their mind is often brainwashed in a shallow way, while trap music and environmental factors are influencing them to waste their lives for a temporary happiness. The doctors are using them for their life, taking every ounce of self-respect these men and women have, while chasing a materials. To better their life in a positive way… The drug addict sits within park benches, or room apartments, always searching for something to make their life more fulfilling and happier, whether it be something lesser like marijuana, or crack, etc. Always searching for something to create what they should be creating on their own, to fill an abyss of a void within their life. The doctor on the other hand goes home, mixes a vodka and juice, sips on it while enjoying the wildlife outside, learning, exploring, bettering their life, easily. The systems is loop sided

Thoughts Bouncing

The sun shines through the window. creating a warm atmosphere, an atmosphere that has been lost in the chilly months… The hard months. I treasure the sun now, because it means that there isn’t going to be a hard time for awhile, a suicidal time… One where the people are a product of their environment rather than their brain, i believe that to control another, requires a lot of conditioning within a day, it progresses slowly throughout the day with an end result, that’s conforming to God’s agenda… The conditioning: i don’t have an idea of how thoughts bounce off one-another, because they’re more complex than they appear, different mirrors and smoke within the mind, that manipulates the thoughts as encountered based on prior conditioning and how it’s perceived based on the far past, and near. Too break them apart and see how the future will come, will be very hard, because i believe it relies on different filters, that operate as lenses, the thoughts intercept with, and the history of how it was previously filtered, different filters are environmental, hereditary, schooling, self created thoughts, different jobs, memories, and then there’s moments that where critical, that went to defining memories that have a larger impact than the rest.

The sun shines through the window. creating a warm atmosphere, an atmosphere that has been lost in the chilly months… The hard months. I treasure the sun now, because it means that there isn’t going to be a hard time for awhile, a suicidal time… One where the people are a product of their environment rather than their brain, i believe that to control another, requires a lot of conditioning within a day, it progresses slowly throughout the day with an end result, that’s conforming to God’s agenda… The conditioning: i don’t have an idea of how thoughts bounce off one-another, because they’re more complex than they appear, different mirrors and smoke within the mind, that manipulates the thoughts as encountered based on prior conditioning and how it’s perceived based on the far past, and near. Too break them apart and see how the future will come, will be very hard, because i believe it relies on different filters, that operate as lenses, the thoughts intercept with, and the history of how it was previously filtered, different filters are environmental, hereditary, schooling, self created thoughts, different jobs, memories, and then there’s moments that where critical, that went to defining memories that have a larger impact than the rest.

Self-improvement, happiness.

When I walk through the store, the eyes gravitate towards me, i can feel the atmosphere and it’s cold and bitter. Everyone’s out for themselves…. they look as if they’re wolf’s taking the meat of another’s, eating the steak bloody and rare.  for this reason, I look rather aggressive, and hardened… the torment, aged a once happy face, an innocent sweet smile turned to a frown… i stay behind a barrier of what the world had done to me, because it feels familiar and keeps me safe… My eyes are sunken in and the rings around dark, my hair’s neat, my clothes a well-washed, my hands are soft, but my heart’s cold for society. They’ve stricken me of my final shirt, the shirt that kept me warm through-out the winter months…. I don’t feel pity for myself because i’ve learned to understand that people were a product of their days, rather than something they’ve purposely done. They weren’t meaning to take my final shirt, they couldn’t have known. I feel sympathetic for them, rather than angry, because they’re a product of their environment and i’m no longer one. Growing up was a difficult experience for me, but it satisfied my once clean soul, and left it with a delightful colouring, of my now excellent personality… the one that’s been humbled and calculated by my mind…  The one that’s forever developing, uniquely and efficiently. I feel the lights of the heavens around my body, I feel their divine energy contributing to what i’ve grown to love, and that’s self-improvement.