Blaze.
The blades.
A night then thus
spells, encore memories,
again. Past ventures, from afar
gas leaks on the surface. Multiple times
a dilemma rises -turned concrete from so much
glass, burnt to perfect hot; to make it snow- and whitened
it seems, widened. So do my best tries to bend it, in two shapes...
As it unfolds. Lies we told no one, but
the lakes (our lonely chance, a denature
of selves) dentures then a new shape.
As those unto the brink:
a noble mascaraed, made
into gables & marble.
A
drop,
droplet,
drips into
the tense
pressure,
that surfaces
the air.
A fissure
for more
precision.
Some mutated
new rendition.
Of dimensions.
For connection.
Make them
into trees, and
sing the lullaby
of streams.
Uncharted.
The river shines
as flow goes and
re-discovers.
The voices of the forgotten
forest, speaks at no one,
but its primal sources...
Replace the light bulb,
as bullfights break amidst,
impeach the peace
of inner dialogue
at war...
at its peak.
Forget not
the faces
on the water,
that we'll pass
as you'll reach.
Settle for greater
heights
and lowered
than its range.
Flay the dance
on a trance,
until it breaches
the seal.
Unleash, as you
unsheathe
the poison
on dead grass...
The path to greatness
lies
into following
its smear.
It's a snare,
for those that try
and gallop out of way.
The way to nowhere,
but its forward
path, while chasing
the shadows
at our feet.
Warriors past
triumphs, and the
teal. A new
sense of grandeur
burn their scar rots,
as anew...
The Iscariots,
burn the chariots
at the most optimal
of ordeals.
So try new means
to make the matter stay.
As clay that grabs
masses on its own
pulse to give
a sense to chaos
out of mesh.
Some never-ending
mess...
And more veins.
An everlasting Reign.
To crave the penitence
that dreads.
And steel.
Burn my eyelids off
so that I shan't
try to cover near.
A Light that pierces
its trail into
my marrow.
A way of blood and forth
the narratives of
Octavio's.
Brands new chapters.
As metal
clashes metal,
made now flesh,
from particles of pain
and forsaken impressions
of training
a will into
making it
make sense.
Choose the violence of
esteems, and don't ever
let it the better
of your bleeds.
Too much
and it's over, the whole
mischief.
Darken frequencies
are on the rising.
And as they'll try
to make you steer,
your will's the compass
to your deeds.
As the purpose,
as the water
and the waves.
An Endless Ocean
of discovery
of self.
Drips a droplet
worth
a thousand Universes
of the constant trying
and the failed.
As The Flayed.
Blaze new
ecosystems
out of train's.
The discipline
as you'll make it
a disciple.
To your mends.
Fit the stamina.
And your grip.
Forge the prayers
unto sheer.
Forget the noises
as you crumble;
shattered
senses of regard,
and the maintenance
of identities
and images
of past beings.
The body is a method.
As thy spirit fits the beat.
Choose your weapons
only lightly.
Choose your villains
out of will.
Pick the curtains for
the unfounded.
Call your ending.
A chance to steer.
The ship that never lays
its fangs on land again,
in fear of meeting
its Rend.
Dine
with me
in an coveted artifice's
vow. Galore,
but flashes crumble
the phylum of
my swords.
Stain the fires well.
And promises The Keep.
Of the tentacles veneer.
An Ancient Rite.
To burn marvels
out of hardened touch.
To cut the air around.
To pierce Reality
inside the bottom
of its Core.
