September 23, 2008

Cattle Rattle these filthy streets,
And yet i still move past completely unseen,
And with all this racket unheard!

I seek what remains untouchable–
Just try to fathom the prodigious forlorn of soul;
Untouched regime of constant glee,
Trampled ambition becoming more obscene,

Mirror of madness,
Blotchy skin wrapped more tight-like to clavicle–
Flesh retching from neck and ribs.
A cavity so near bellows to be filled.


The world around spins at uncanny speeds in varying degrees, while anticipation looms; it scours in the festering uncertainty and grotesque decay of each day to come. The parallax of this circle of events leaves many things unseen and prevents even more from being heard.

I am dying inside. And this is not the atypical sense of loss; it is paramount in such senses as taste and as sinful as scenes of vain lust. The rain has never really let up from just before this time last year, and this body is oh so sick from being drenched. The unwilling deceit is treachery in the most pristine of guises.

Mad soul! Not so angry, but much more insane f5rom the mundane in and out of being incapabale of staying still. It is the constant wear and tare of regret and the lack of capacity for rest. dwelve deep and one may find what they dare not speak, much less speak.

The sears watch ever=so closely, tracking the steps to breaths of this body. Dismal refracts these days embodiment of constant plight.

It is no wonder to me why so many are so incredibly fucked up?


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