

TiredListing all the things that I've been tired of Tired of you so what are you surprised about?Tired
If everything I say means everything to you Then why do I feel so diluted like I do?
There's nothing I would love more than For this to feel therapeutic Instead of burning again and again Oh, why did you have to do this?
There's nothing I would love more than For us again and remember when But that is no longer who I am I'm not going to win in the end I'm not going to make any sense
I'm going to be drunk again, Wondering how I did it H


Dissolution, the Only SolutionSensing anger and hostility coming from myself Up from the bottom from myself awesome you beheld And then assiduously knelt to me your nightmare Sensing anger and hostility tightening their grip Reflection of danger hanging in the Sudden shift to confusionDissolution, the Only Solution
From a state of balancing, surviving the future of fission Always striking back with the fist of El Cid but you will remember the one that did this to you As someone so close to you, That you will reach out (Somewhere in a maze of smoke and devil-eyed copycatatonic mirrors) And you can only reach out To never (breathe


Forgotten LoveThey've forgotten what it is to love Maybe because I no longer believe As the seasons change to Vivaldi What a strange creed it is to love What a clumsy, mismanaged savageryForgotten Love
Forgotten: what is it to love? Is there a rocket science to the words? Or is it a weird science that quakes and whirs? How is it that we love Only to feed it away to the worms?
They ate into his brains so he's forgotten what it is to love Hey you, maybe you know the cure The curse in the form of a song structure And we knew all along this love Just felt way too sure &nb


Smoke SignalI fear our communication has beenSmoke Signal
strangled prematurely by a petty monitoring device What was before a lark is now an early grave site
calling out my many names
But now I reach out through the wreckage to deliver this message in mangled, broken, death-happy sign language
I ween my glazed eyes have said you would be the one to take me away from it all like death in the womb Between long days under ice my soul has said you were another
Awakening today with the one truth
Palpable fear feeds into my horrible mouth cavity More ancient and fragrant than


Sonnet IXShe haunts my thoughts and yet uplifts them so A princess with a pauper in her wake Id pluck the very moon to let her know Id love her till the end in mercys sakeSonnet IX
And now she stands, perfection born of Eve A dream girl in a league of boundless grace Although Id cease to be if she did leave My memories will still preserve her face
I loathe myself in sight of this divine To breathe her very scent lights up my soul An intellect that far surpasses mine To hold her softened hands would make me whole
To please her is the core of my b


when you're sleeping, i writeyour eyes close at the heavy hand of fatigue caressing your brow. words become mountain creeks flowing through your ears, trickling into a deep nothingness, dark like rain-soaked earth. your breathing slows; your pulse becomes one with the steady chorus of insect lullabies on the outskirts of your consciousness. your eyes are able to see everything in this world and in every other world. you sink into the ground, swallowed back into Mother’s womb. your fingers let you taste the ephemeral as they twitch ever so slightly, rabbit noses brushing the slick, woven fabric of the wilderness’ dreams as you pass by, carried by voices as if you are a pawhen you're sleeping, i write


Infrared ApolloI sit waiting in the sun. At the door, A brow appears; Pretentious and vain, butInfrared Apollo
Curved, fiery, warm. It rises, I bid him in. The sun sets; We sink in a pool of blood,
Rippling under the palm of a hand. A cheek appears, A faint smile, a broken lip: So red, an open scar.
The moon rises slowly- Sharp, vengeful crescent- And disappears behind Two black of eyes, impatient, eager.
A sour touch, a bite. A stream of crimson on my lip, And before I can think, I fall Back where I belong:
To the dark
they like you better
framed and dried.
--
Cruciatus Animus, Pius Vates
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