Pick up
your teeth.
Polish 'em
green,
the pastures of longevity,
and
resist.
Always.
Insist.
Four.
The Empire's on the rise, for
it meddles the needle till'
we see it fit.
Closely
to our senses.
No remorse...
The gears keep turning
and
I never get to hear it grit.
Alas,
never enough
time
to fully see it bleed...
Speak not to me
in tongues
that rescind
the brighter times.
Instead,
sever the space
in between
the clever, and the cleaver.
Days erode,
more than chances
available
to persist.
Even beyond
the continuous outbursts
of escalations,
and constant elation
of tribulations
and explosions...
As
the sand never feels
as loosened
as
it does today.
For,
as I sink, I see
the sky burning crisply.
And crystals -clear, is the vision-
upon the pyramid
of purple tainted glass...
I see ourselves
demise.
And I don't like:
the outcome of the shared
cards thrown loosely
as cracked shards
upon the table.
Again.
Strive yourselves apart
from this deal
to see the fireworks
burn off molecules
midst their roar...
Walk away
and feel the hopelessness.
Upon the story
- o p e n s u p -
and catch it shortened,
breathless
as it shoots itself backwards
in traverse... none?
The mood.
Unspoken.
Us.
The River
flows away.
Always
(in reverse)
only to restore
the next status quo.
When the stars sing grimly
melodies of comfort
and reprise.
Remind.
Myself
to pierce any cloud.
In order to see it
make me believe
its primal sense...
I sense
its wonders,
the scent of chaos
loosen up the air.
I taste the strains
of shadows,
tactile tendrils
of remorse.
Tactic sleeves, now broken.
Pockets almost empty,
not full, but bloodless,
and much lawless
love for the unprompted.
The unscripted...
Breaks open my rib cage
to taste the oceans.
Say your sorrows now
while there's seconds
of thunderous
asymmetry.
Never wait for them
-with unbolt shoulders-
for next strikes of Sun
to turn around
and face
the voiceless.
I aim to please,
grab the hammers
never again, heart broken
hope to ever see it spotless.
Break enough particles
so that I can find my seat
and wonder...
Now calmed enough
to wheeze,
take in all I can
from this breeze...
Feel it escape my grasp, until
it's time for Me.
To stand up still.
And catch 'em
while it twirls.
I just wanna see it spin...
And show everybody
its multiple facades, shades,
of translucent shapes
now turned cordless
streams of hue,
and pain...
as they string
themselves as
newborn
braided fibers
of secure connections
and merciless luck.
It's now, time sure past the wakened .
Know my pride well enough
to build new wings
that take me far.
So that I can find a peace
to build my sentience.
Pick up
my bloody teeth.
From the ground.
Jaded now.
Never fades
as background
for amendments.
Without...
Finally.
Breaking out of shell.
Rising up the ancient storms.
To Fight
My Sentence.
No hay comentarios.:
Publicar un comentario