manuscriptx
New Member
Watching television in plain text, reading radio waves in high-def. Writing symbols to every sound you hear. She can kill with a fighting tong, fool you with a smile and hide herself from any angle of arrogance. As I said before, she is a manipulative little beast; all unto herself, she loves to lust, reassuring the ambient fool; ghosts to ghouls, ghouls to fools and ropes to dopes. She is very much real, an archangel in my mind; perfect and surreptitious, four glasses and a cup of water.
Inspiration all the way; hindrance is all it takes. I never question who, what, when, where or why; hope has as many verbs as it does in showing me my ignorance as a propulsion and not necessarily a metaphor. I already know this life doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the taste is telling me that it is acceptable and that it is comparable for easy appeasement. I'm not at all surprised by the way. Clear and far between it can only then become easy to discern and hardly worth engaging; if only as it were as thin as a ball, then all this would be done. I'm talking without talking. I'm conveying without conveying; any real measure of success or accomplishment. I'm struggling to retain the very knowledge that would tend to carry onward without tripping over. Things like hate, speech and coming together, don’t necessarily bother me. Forgiveness and grappling with the God of all that necessity does. There's no wonder in it for me anymore. There's no real pleasure. There's no hope or atrophy, no real consequence. All that I’ve ever said to you was pure truth in that was what I wanted to get a few things off my chest. No, it didn't have to make any sense. All any one person needed to touch the brain by reading. From there you can easily understand where I'm coming from. From there you can essentially know what and where things are highly attainable. If success were a thin waistline or an eyebrow of accomplishment I'd have no use for this. If failure was as evergreen tree, I'd throw logic away having no use for paper courage while trying to make due. Endear myself with information which surrounds every corner of society.
If I knew what it is that's going on with my life, the one inside of me, there would be no such thing as an emotional requiem, an adequate dream, a requisite axiom, or a contrived grievance with natural inhibitions. Summer solstice, much like winter solstice is a blinding light from above. An overarching reflection and an understanding towards peace through thought. A kindly art of charity and clarity only I can really appreciate.
Perhaps, someday, one day or another it will come again.
Inspiration all the way; hindrance is all it takes. I never question who, what, when, where or why; hope has as many verbs as it does in showing me my ignorance as a propulsion and not necessarily a metaphor. I already know this life doesn't exist. I know that when I put it in my mouth, the taste is telling me that it is acceptable and that it is comparable for easy appeasement. I'm not at all surprised by the way. Clear and far between it can only then become easy to discern and hardly worth engaging; if only as it were as thin as a ball, then all this would be done. I'm talking without talking. I'm conveying without conveying; any real measure of success or accomplishment. I'm struggling to retain the very knowledge that would tend to carry onward without tripping over. Things like hate, speech and coming together, don’t necessarily bother me. Forgiveness and grappling with the God of all that necessity does. There's no wonder in it for me anymore. There's no real pleasure. There's no hope or atrophy, no real consequence. All that I’ve ever said to you was pure truth in that was what I wanted to get a few things off my chest. No, it didn't have to make any sense. All any one person needed to touch the brain by reading. From there you can easily understand where I'm coming from. From there you can essentially know what and where things are highly attainable. If success were a thin waistline or an eyebrow of accomplishment I'd have no use for this. If failure was as evergreen tree, I'd throw logic away having no use for paper courage while trying to make due. Endear myself with information which surrounds every corner of society.
If I knew what it is that's going on with my life, the one inside of me, there would be no such thing as an emotional requiem, an adequate dream, a requisite axiom, or a contrived grievance with natural inhibitions. Summer solstice, much like winter solstice is a blinding light from above. An overarching reflection and an understanding towards peace through thought. A kindly art of charity and clarity only I can really appreciate.
Perhaps, someday, one day or another it will come again.