Psychology, Poetry, Science Fiction, Drugs @vincecarre
As shes gripping me,
Sweet fingers turn to spiders,
Warm laughter turns to pain,
And trust deformed,
Mutant,
As she wonders in the garden,
The flowers sink,
And whats left is soil,
As the figment of flowery heaven,
Once stood,
The delusion ever so in her mind,
She waters the flowers,
She fertilizes,
Her utopia.
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
As the rose tells me of the struggles it faced, yet succeeded.
The rain dripping, the wind challenging; as she blow’s in the wind,
Her root’s, her family of flowers. never cease development;
always amounting to success, strength. She appears the strongest,
Her root system, strengthens those from “beneath”. and the pedals one day, will reach the heavens.
As a well guided team, under the commandment of the “largest” head of the rose; within the traditional themed garden.
Bringing the less strong up, with nutrition. They’re bringing the ground with the team. Nothing gets left behind. As the ground lift’s,
It spirals with the rooting system attached. The angel’s shine the sun, to lift, the mass of soil.
The ground, shall never be without its beauty. They need one-another, the humbleness of the “grounding”
needs the beauty of the rose garden – they’re as a separate society, within the mass of society.
The diamond of the eye sparkles. The sparkles tell a story, of survival, hope…
i watch the show… only to discover, the projection of sparkles, are of a “red” light; transferring to white under-the-surface; The white lighting is of an illusion, what stands below are the fires of hell, lighting a false sense of hope.
As her mind manipulates the fiery lighting i’m in awe; of the angelic eyes i’m witnessing, within my mind, i know it can not continue, it mustn’t, but for now… i’m enjoying the film.
The heart is tied, the knot holds.
She casted a rope, and pulled it forth.
my woman, is my match.
The fire flickers, the candle within a heart.
The candle drips pink; the heart of stained glass.
the glass shatter’s. Love betrayed the organ,
The legs hanging lifelessly….
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….
She’s the sunlight, the moon and the star’s, too me she’s every kind of beautiful, perspective; complete, together.
She warms alike the sun, casts light in the darkness, and she’s my little star, bringing hope to myself. The mountains ive climbed to see the mix of completness. Was completely worth it, as i watch the scene, im stunned. How is she able?
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….
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….
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?
Vincent Carre’s Thoughts 