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….

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.

BEER & LOVE

Drowning in a pool of yellow liquid, the sides are rising – Creating a barrier. The bubbles come from the mouth, puking out additional substance, furthering the im-prisonment. The barriers become aggressive, the hand takes me and locks me down- the key stolen, by the one that’s suppose to be there for me….

The waves are creating a superior time, riding these beautiful inconsistencies; As my emotions plummet, forever searching for “additional”. All-the-while, i think of the queen, the one that roams the nest with carefreeness, strength, beauty – Feeling as-if, a tiny bee. needing her, I drink another beer. The moments go-by, quicker, my heart releases a noise – She doesn’t appreciate. I climbed massive barriers, yet she does not care, it doesn’t occur to her that i’m trying the best i can – A tiny bee in pursuit of love.

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

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…