King of Fury: I to the am everything to believe, no not I, a believer is me, a void I stand in the hold of rage not the hand, no, the peaceful embrace, you, no, you in the annihilation of desecration out of space these hands of ferocious shape, strange how calm it reads yet deadly it taste, do you not think? venomous, are my scars like unclean shifts contacted by hate, livers of waste from bottles of rye from barrels of perfectly good taste in the sense of renewal and a good make like thanks to a cross you use to whittle down like wood for a place, lanterns with rich supplies though tipped over by disgrace of mishandled plates, to the spilt brandy of another face, flames and structures in old back woods built on grounds indigenous to grass and peaceful ways of rock and river streams clean, found by your new nightmare, good burial space of native eagles painted in face paint you chose to wake, rock built, no, ground floor decor like you ever took care of architecture figures dressed in artistic ways, I will not stand for your influence and my broken mistakes all in one make, your my brothers keeper and all you ever kept was the attack of my good hearted saint, soulful racing in place, no movement of calm meditation of irate comings for your badgering mouth like dried up lakes and my anger of your direction, my to many broken snakes and your crass dialect of nothing but shame, this is fight and the coming of form unknown, indestructible eyes and unusual haze like the End of Days foundational, declaration energy marching evil away, I would pray. https://m.youtube/watch?v=b-f5iMDXvcA
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 17:17:58 +0000
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