Lavender senses
seem to notion
new lotions -its motion?-
a locomotion
towards
perfection,
made as clay
from shards
of Oceans
floating
as comets,
dangling particles
of hope across
our dedicated
entitlements.
Another turn
-invisible-
of spirals
points towards
moments
of starlight.
Impulsive needs
to register
the occurrences
of whatever
Cosmos
whispers
into the fingertips
of my tendrils;
an all being
told me to wait
and cheer
for clustered pulses
of railing tensions
within a
store to see.
I drift
apart
The Sea
and drip
as magma,
burning pits into
living plasmon
-we gotta try to make it glitch-
as the aspect ratios,
match intentions
of damnation.
The rations:
Emotions turned
to spirals;
overspent
of lumen
and cadence.
While the fumes lower us.
Into sentiments of glory
and the pain of losing battles
on Yesterday's squadron.
A proud accomplishment
of dumb ameba, abeam
a beam of funny particles
extinct us...
A ritualistic trance
just dance, burnt,
turned now
into waves
of friction
in between us.
More choices
yet, here we eclipse
all vision.
Chasing lines across
a pasture of intangible
conscriptions,
my blades of grass
caressing
sense of self
and continuous
impairments, prepayments
of tools to forge a destiny
fit for Throne & Fortress.
The state of being
to create, it becomes,
a parody of itself.
My own portion
of the cosmos.
Waits and pulses
new partitives
of departure...
Thinking about, now,
the nothingness
that comes
behind the last
door that closes
once my scar screams open
and all ears are chosen.
Nevertheless,
seeing the solitude
of drifting giants
across and front
The Endless Ocean.
I drift
apart
as part
of chances
become ethereal,
once it's reached its prime.
We have to forfeit to see, the material...
Becomes a sense of wonder.
On its own,
try to stay on grounds
while lighting the torch
down. Upside
The Chalice.
My Second Try
at malice...
A sword loses
its value
as it weights less
than choices
to speak a nature
into people's
comber. Encumbered,
all stages of psychosis
entangles lessons
from afar the temples
of polished marbles.
I reminiscence
across the
forbidden seas,
to travel along
on a lonely raft.
Solitude
holds secrets
that Matter wants
forbidden
for the sake of
ancient totems.
And the moths that can't wait
anymore...
Surely comes
unbecoming
a Monster that
devoured thousands;
more screams that spell
plethora,
burns my memories
like no atrocities
exposed as
us try and try
to better the craft,
but pointless
it's to try
to attempt and turn
the shadows
into weapons
of mass
deconstruction.
Propaganda gallops
as the last Pagoda
lights
itself on flames
waiting for a solider
to come
bearing news
of settlement
instead of plague...
Holds the key
in your purple arms,
and lock to protect
us and as
they shall stall the
times to come
unguarded.
Prepare a feast for the
unfounded.
A treasure so
hidden, deep it crashes
the stability of Reality
once its cries
are heard again
across the Andes to the Alps.
A burning chariot
tints its fires, into darkened
shades of blueish green and
bloodshed
red,
try and
decipher
a codex made now flesh.
On the back of a turtle
traveling south
west of shores,
its hacks to machinery
forever unspoken...
For better terms.
Unleash your whip
and front them.
Stay still
to perceive
the cloisters
of crumbling souls
across the boardroom.
A ballroom
looses its carpet
once its stains
can't come clean about
- from whence, the water deep,
a prattle of mysteries, yet perceived -
but certifiably
can grab the cards
and try again
the newest spins.
All devotion
shouldn't go
to me,
there's holes in places
where The Timeline
forgot to clean its peace...
Try and come with me.
To shadier planes
of severest green...
Remember try
to choose, correct
the assumptions
of wherever the floor
doesn't crack to show
its portion
of the teeth...
Ignore my eyes to let it
rip. Them apart,
from sides it seems
that they try to see you bleed.
More...
Become immortal
in a way.
They never seem to gleam.
.
.
.
Stage the perfect sentence.
And finally succeed-
It's time to try and see.
