baffled mesmerizing distant tides belittles the dying dream of a dazed momentary delusional center, fragmenting conscious decisions to tear a raging chasm within and without the baffled sloth. a redeemed particle sings to the laughing jester feeling a small remorseful disposition towards the sheepish flock, torn between a diffused proposition i ask myself, where did i place my mind? tasting the acidic smile of yesterdays sins, partly because the frequency of laughter is a shattering mind ♥♥♥♥, melding into the soft repertoire of amalgamated solids it says to the mother "where has the time gone, where are we seeking to shelter ourselves from the onslaught of tomorrows siege" simply she replies as anyone would "i seek not shelter in the minds of men but in the hollow depth of atrophy and detained subliminal sequence" triggered by the confusion of this reply they wonder the desert of forgotten blasphemy and multifaceted mirrors wondering why such a journey has to come so soon, alas the bending of this gravitational influx has crushed their very instincts allowing them only but a small cup of true life from wich to drink. When will the daughters of the masculine and sons of the feminine reply to the call from the hermaphrodidic minded, when will this conglomeration of subsequent desires refuse to take root and move to a more humbling abode. only the watchers know as much as only the expressionists can determine said outcome. this be the word of that witch has not been said i simply state. i am , am i exploding on the scene with such bewilderment is a dying ghost of forgotten memories, tied together by the simplest of emotions it drags down all that which is not connected, breathing the mighty flame of disambiguate deformities, blissful apparition as it feeds from the breast of medicated renewing expulsion telling the children not to fear the end of the beginning. simplistic in its mind complex in its movements it cries like a wounded beast seeking comfort from the darkness of implosive radiation. when will solace become the safeguarding arms for which it seeks such an embrace from. timeless telling of a tale without time, a moment of momentary nothingness secreting organic trust. this has been the dealing of the hand that has fractured all witch binds, although holding together the separation is simply what is knot
Posted on: Sun, 04 Aug 2013 04:50:23 +0000
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