condescending condescention.

The human race is not a race.

We are stagnant.

A stagnant addition of worthless deoxyribose scum.

Mmm, how delicious that does sound.

Cruel, diminishing, misunderstanding, impotently unintelligent relatives of the hair mammal.

Mmm, how true that does sound.

A glimmer of tertiary hope and despair, wrapped in a box of I don’t care.

Viscious female glares, and careless male flares.

Idignant polination, yielding instignation.

Mmm, how ill repented and kill stimpented that does sound.

All in hope that we are found, sitting in a pile of sweet cucumber’s mound.

Tags: , , , ,

hidden passages.

There’s a dim light in the surrounding.

As in all ends, I find myself accompanied by the soul and mind.

Their voices are the notes to my paper and the lyrics to my song.

In an ironic sort of manner, the die hard romantic sits quietly alone.

The one always looking in the depths, wondering where their one lies.

I’ll reach, but only to a fingers tip do I arrive.

After so many years, I can’t even remember the feeling of you next to me.

I used to be able to close my eyes and be there, if only for a moment.

I suppose the wind of winter days takes with it the comfort of your embrace.

Remnants of love float through the fresh morning air as I smile towards the summer sun.

No longer do we run through the forests like in our youth, the cool air flowing through my long brown hair, your smile bringing me all the warmth I ever needed.

And yet, the years fly by.

Oh how they fly.

Our wrinkles deepen, and our souls weakin.

Yet, we smile in remniscence.

We’ll always be the hopeless romantics sitting quietly alone wondering where our one lies.

I miss you.

Tags: , , , ,

a shoe’s haircut.

I sway my head side to side, I’ve got a moment of uselessness.

I roll my eyes up and down, I’ve got a hundred tasks staring me down.

Should I call him? Him who.

I open the closet door, hoping to be drowned in ocean waves, I sigh.

I could splatter paint all over my furniture. Perhaps then my soul would be stripped of symmetry.

This conscious flutters its devil hands through my synapses. You’ve got a rendering to my splendering.

This is absolute nonsense, all worked up in a bottle of defense.

I pluck the guitar, but the sounds sooth deafened ears.

I jump into my rabbit hole, but hit rock bottom at full speed.

You’re pretty eyes make me giggle, but your personality is about as dry as the back of my palm.

Cruelty is a most grandeure form of flattering.

A goldfish spits out his despair, he’s ready to float a new affair.

Shakespeare joins me for tea, but innacurately states the rays of my center.

The middle, top, front, and down, surround.

You symbol, take my hand, let’s give this story an end.

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

beg for your life.

The adrenaline flows through my veins.

The coffee twitches in my fingers, the music shakes my synapses.

I have a date with a heart attack, and it’s not going to be dinner and a movie.

This spinning machine will make my muscles clean.

The numbers count down to my defeat, miles per hour the enemy.

It’s me against myself, the ultimate duel.

My organs scream and beg for it to cease, but my ambition laughs in their face.

I grip the handles, look to the sky and push on.

It’s when we step accross the boundry that we find ourselves face to face with our enemy.

The liquid cancers, the soot infested smoke, and the fat engulfed arteries fear for their lives.

I grit my teeth, my muscles tense and trembling.

Even my breath speaks of retreat, yet I refuse all defeat.

My soul, ammunition.

My mind, the gun.

My body, the bullet.

The trigger lifted, the countdown ended.

I walk away.

 Limping yet triumphant.

My right knee throbs of pain, my lungs struggle, and my heart throws itself through my rib cage.

Today was a good work out.

Tags: , , , ,
Page 16 of 40« First...«1415161718»...Last »
Syndicate this site using RSS