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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The Rose that Knew no-limits.

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.

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….

The Deer That Had a Wild Passion

I stand among the other beasts, i call to the others, let’s move. let’s progress upwards onto this hill, we need to find a deer, a possum, anything to feed our stomachs, to provide us with strength and power… The other animals were less excited, lazier than the deer… we eventually entered the same page… We began to chase down a deer, and the deer progressed out of the premise, our quick steps were no match, we accelerated faster… But the deer was PASSIONATE about his surroundings, he understood the area much more… The next day we saw the deer. And we set our trap, we circled the deer and began to munch on his body, ripping flesh, destroying his caucus. And we learned from then on that sometimes talent beats passion.

The Log that the Soil Combined With the Flower – Relationship, lost

A hallow log that has been forgotten, the grass grows around and it slowly disappears beneath, It slowly forgets what it’s like to held, admired for it’s internal beauty of rings, it’s age is meaningless, because it’s rottening away becoming a memory in ones mind, the picture within slowly crumpling, getting filthy and it’ll become a historic piece that was never remembered – because i feel meaningless. Around the log, grows flowers… alike the flower, the woman i once knew, grew as one, strong and vibrant, magical. Living like a dream within ones mind, her picture stays strong, and well thought about…  the soil combined their relationship, but it was not enough, and one day the flower detached from it’s circular platform, and took flight in the wind.

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…

Lifeless Organ

My heart has broken apart, forever floating within the seas of my tears. It was once captured… Not now… it becomes free and the power is dispersing. It continues lifeless. and forgotten… It forever holds what love was. and what it could have been. encased in a bullet proof jar… the jar is filled with barbed wire… Lifeless like a plant without shine, or a rodent that has been killed… it floats forever within the jar, searching for anew relationship, love, friendship… I’m alone, and dying inside… But this isn’t new, this isn’t strange… it’s my life. The life she once gave, is a dream.