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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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Hovering Away from the Scene of a crime.

Ego soar’s incredibly, happiness circles the body, and i feel the warmth exiting… The shell becomes punctured to the other side… My old self dies off – my soul releases – i’m reborn – a cloudy-spirit ascends, i begin gravitating, over my body. I look in every direction, notice every detail. I look upon my old self – my body appears projecting a painting of everything i went through And the end is freedom, from the past destructiveness. It feels surreal, overwhelming my spirt, I begin to “hover” away from the scene of the crime….

Chasing a Love

My feeling’s created a vortex – They shall bring her towards; Her’s deflect my circular storm.  The wind shoots towards immensely.

Knocking me down – She comes forward wearing an (unknown) mask, wielding a freshly sharpened knife – The days have passed, the blade remained, the mask knew many roles, the knife has taken many foes – The darkness is overpowering

The weaponry, becomes dull as she progresses her stabs locating my heart – the vortex lessens in size.

She smiles, the beauty of her smile, catches me off guard – my feeling’s ‘sharpen’ – They take ahold – strengthen…. ascend – The vortex grow’s dangerously large;

The powerful air becomes unstable, It fluctuates – tilts rapidly, back-and-forth – bringing forth the other, consuming her; the blade – bounced off my heavily guarded heart, the blade bent…. I wake up, and realize i’ve been walking once more in my sleep – Feeling’s still needing release, to pick her up, and wrap my arms around.

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.

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.

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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.

Alcohol Encounter. Death

alcoholism is at the door, it starts pounding fiercely, and quickly… i won’t let it in, i won’t, be apart of it’s wickedness, the devil is apart, it’s becoming, intertwined, loving, caring. it supports and is proud of me, i reply… go away, you’re not welcome here anymore… it progresses… fights intensely with the bell and the door… it’s knocking more fiercely more, quickly… i go out the back, and come back with an axe, it knocks me out, breaks through my door… it tells me i’m captured, i’m one… i’m on the floor trying to get up, it kicks it’s boot within my face… i feel at ease, submitted, in it’s hands…. yet i fight, and it quickly counter attacks… it’s too powerful, i do what it says.

Sadness

Trapped within a mental cage. the bar’s are clear, the room is wide and lengthy. there’s much to do, yet nothing to do simultaniously… i shout for prison guards, inmates, but there isn’t anyone in the far distance. feels as if ill never leave this old prision, never see someone in the same situation… I shout out for the warden, someone in charge, but a speaker from on-top, says in a robotic tone, a fish in a pond that gets taken out of the water, caught. Is no longer free… but he can escape the boat if he has enough strength, enough will… My will is depleting, and i’m caught, but i’m in a bucket near the edges of the boat. With one lucky jump, i could claim my freedom back, and conquer the mountain, but i often wonder if the mountains an illusion and i’m really in sinking sand, I’m told never move ask for help, but there’s nobody in sight, nobody that cares…. Perhaps this is my fate to be within this cage forever, like a bird flapping it’s wings in it’s enforcement waiting for somebody to allow them to fly once more… the seasons will change slowly, the days will lessen, but it’s a slow death, as the dreams of flying within the birds mind, lessen, everything he’s known, loved are a fading memory…. as he ticks at the cage, they put more restraints, the quick sand within the mind fights back and brings the birds pride, joy, into the thick liquid, until it’s dead….

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…