manuscriptx
New Member
What is this state of being? Is it alive or a misnomer? A cute, arbitrary tell tale sign things right in the world are not what they seem, even in the slightest. Did it ever occur to you that I may not be who I seem to be? I had hoped not. You're indifferent as well. Save me from myself, let me stir up your emotions to a slow boil. Train me; tell me that I can't do anything without your permission. Idiots, they say not what they can do until an appointed time. Love, it was a light that never fell in and upon me. Darkness, it approached me with open arms. The Male Child, I stayed as far away from him as I could. Genealogy, the broken flask of information sails onward. You don't know where I'm going or why, just have to get there don't you? Dark and Evil Forces, surrounding me like a circle of flame. Geriatric Fever, I hate old people and their perpetual sickness. Every fucking time I turn around. Perpetual Emissions, take me away and a broken nose.
Stylish Girls, pregnancy walk away and beat them into submission. Pretty Lips, vaginal, is not of the mouth. I sometimes wonder what it takes to open them with sweet sounds. Ugliness, too much to bear even over seeing one with a wide eye, water as it approached, was like a high tidal wave of fear and imagination. So close, I can almost grab it, the state of being happy and eventful, satisfied and tranquil, without cause and heir apparent. Dummy Finance Companies, a bright idea for the mob. Laundered money, stolen from an armored car heist. A fool, slapped upside the head in anger at my bearings. Quiet solstice, two points on the ecliptic plane ready to live again in a new body. Dancing Free, an old song that ends this poem.
Stylish Girls, pregnancy walk away and beat them into submission. Pretty Lips, vaginal, is not of the mouth. I sometimes wonder what it takes to open them with sweet sounds. Ugliness, too much to bear even over seeing one with a wide eye, water as it approached, was like a high tidal wave of fear and imagination. So close, I can almost grab it, the state of being happy and eventful, satisfied and tranquil, without cause and heir apparent. Dummy Finance Companies, a bright idea for the mob. Laundered money, stolen from an armored car heist. A fool, slapped upside the head in anger at my bearings. Quiet solstice, two points on the ecliptic plane ready to live again in a new body. Dancing Free, an old song that ends this poem.