The Girl That knew plenty – A flowery, existence.

Spring time ‘come growth, wild flower’s grow in field’s. They’re heightening with strength, with beauty; they’re racing; The “mind” contains, the essence. it may blossom, one day – may become full – It shall grow somewhat, they must all compete for freedom, for dominance and ultimately nutrition. As i walk the field, i notice one particularly heightened, one strong enough to grow past the rest. One that’s head, is large. I walk over, noticing this plants fullness, it’s freeness of environmental conditioning – That shall be the one i take home. As the rain drips, we go along the path, towards home. As the sky blackens, those who couldn’t withstand, the rain… Became another’s. But mine shall be cherished…. As i am, the man who….

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Walking Down a Lonesome Path.

Walking down a road, within an isolated community; i know it’s for the best. My boots feel heavy, the heaviness weighs me down, I can feel the water splashing from within, i feel blister’s on my feet… The breeze feels cold within my hair, my hair casts to the sides, as her’s would have, memories pop within the mind. And seemingly my boots feel heavier, more full. I notice leaf’s of the trees, they’re ending in their time’s – feeling hopeless. I tell myself it’s for the best. Flower’s are dying, the clouds look full, and needing release – My eyes feel heavy, my soul beat, my face flushed – i don’t cry, i don’t hope anymore, i continue down my path – My energy depleted. I see a car buzz by me in a mocking manner. A white owl, is within the tree taking notice of my struggles. I stop, look towards the bird. another owl goes towards, and sits beside. I figure it’s a female. I pay attention to the colour’s – The feather’s look warm, full. i begin go onwards down my path. I notice the heat coming from towards the home’s and lighting my path, I begin to stumble, my backpack begins to feel more full… more tight around my shoulder’s – i envision her hugging me, like she had… The difference between than and now, is she was intoxicated – i was her drinking buddy, her supplier, rather than a true interest. I understand victory, i understand defeat more so. The houses begin to look, more solid, more beautifully designed in appearance – i figure it’s the sighting of a better community – A better future.

Lovely Day for a Torture

My dear, do you know no mercy? I’ve climbed too high, to fall this low; I drift in the sky when you’re ‘round; Plummet to the fiery hell… My emotions fluctuate too quick… i served my heart on a golden plate; you ate it amongst the minions; the taste was unwanted…. the beat too obnoxious. the colour too bright, too warm; did you not notice, it was woven, within your traits, it held value for you.; your lips remain blood-soaked, hungering for more. Not needing i…. The heart shall be treasured…. the warm glow you neglect. Shall be another’s; yet i want you… Although you appear devilish at times, I look for the moments when you’re gravitating spirit, punctures my heart, and I fill whole; emptiness when you’ve drifted off. Anxiety before i connect; Happiness when i’ve connected. A cycle… Different identities – The heart can’t  keep up with the ever-changing environmental-costumes, how far will you go to capture and toy with what should be, cared for; the bad news is i can rip you to shreds if i felt differently; push me there?

Deep sadness

My emotions descend to a depth, i’ve never witnessed. They cast within, as poison within a pit of my stomach from my mind, causing me to vomit, the toxicity in the mind multiplies and causes me to lose my current perspective, I begin trying to take grasp of reality, it fluctuates – deep hatred-heavens; destroying my once healthy body.  They stick, my mind can’t go upwards – at some level i feel i deserve pain, which keeps me low. I hyperventilate, but can’t catch up to my normal rhythm. Everything i’ve grown to love, about myself, feels shattered. The mirrors within my thought chain, bounce my thoughts from within, and create a phantom-curtain, that picks up the previous identity, throwing it. My confidence dances away with strength and musical, beauty, playing to an old skipping record – as my thoughts try to find hope, negativity skips with positivitey, briefly – of a destructive classical masterpiece.

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?