The method of meditating, patent pending.
The cycle of medicating, heavily sedating.
The irony of which we speak,
the words that echo down the horrid corridor.
The alibi full of lies.
The bulimic line that divides the weak from the wise.
The thoughts that separate the truth and the joy,
as the sediment slowly sinks to the bottom where we hide.
The truth that we believe but destroy.
We travel on the sidewalk of the street of time and avoid the middle line.
In an alternate universe, where everything makes sense.
Adequately unique, unlike the rest.
Individually facing separate tests,
failing because you did your best.
Seceding away from the expected path.
Succeeding in eliminating expired past.
Preserving false experiences
in little glass jars.
In hope that liar's
circumstances are not near nor far.
The circumferences, most noir,
the distance between life and cinematography.
It made no difference to me.
The shortest rest,
relief in negative space.
A pause from being frightened.
Fallacies so hideously irrelevant to me,
casualties so casual on these streets.
Indiscretions that can't hide
in plain sight.
In ordinary light.
Taboo, the glue that melds the minds together.
The callus developed from denying the debris,
the density of the rich leather armor.
Predisposition to protection from all sources of discomfort.
Frightened by all ongoing unknown distant conformity.
Near sighted of all incoming far away mysteries.
Wasted abolition, daunting deference.
Recycled questions, curiosity of little significance.
Burning roses as they melt your coffin.
Committing self destruction, rearranging the letters of your name.
Among other things.
Realization through hideous mutilation, self affirmation.
Screaming for technicality, annotations of great complexity.
Confusing ideals birthed randomly and unexpectedly.
Consuming chaos in it's relative meaning.
Relentlessly coinciding with dueling personalities.
Coincidentally residing in equal circumstances.
Restlessly examining unimportant details.
When your own muse you were misusing,
your own mind was not the only one you were abusing.
The direction that was not of your choosing.
You never gave up on the mind that you were loosing.
Thank you..
But that doesn't matter.
It all came to an end.
Wandering around the final garden.
Inside Venus humanfly traps.
Wondering, why we didn't listen,
pondering why we couldn't see.
The stories written on the flesh of a poor tree.
The roots of a new beginning.
In an instant,
the final subtraction.
Extinct in a manner of matter reduction.
Instincts, our first reactions
contribute to the Jurisdiction.
Our thoughts, just mindless decisions.
Our faults, apparitions we created,
adding to the submission.
For the Queen bee must feed.
A royal hyperbole of moral quandary.
Who witnessed the fake path to enlightenment,
what delirium brought forth such great satisfaction.
Where surrealism became escapism from this reality,
when the significant other became the handshake through the mirror.
While we were cast away, they remain,
they fuck the past away.
Martyred, along with the insane.
Slaughtered belongings causing possession,
unneeded materials initiating obsession.
The glasses with which we view the past,
are more often then not misleading.
Judging through the crystal ball filled with alcohol.
Recklessly misreading space and time.
When philanthropy was such an arduous philosophy,
when negativity became the new nativity scene.
He who accidentally painted beautiful melting blue, the high ceiling.
Who mockingly let us view only part of our dreams.
We laughed at his duality and mortality.
Subconsciously, we cried for his forgiveness and morality.
Then gasped for breath and begged for pity.
Even
though
we
are
correct
the
fact
remains
we
it
still
cannot
destroy
it
because
decay.
it
is nothing.
it is
what the shit we are
made
of
...
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