This Belief.

Couture of torture endure the mortar in the pellet blessing..
Innocent beings bloom in rhythmic doom..
Prize position next to the exit wound..
hide the crown we made while we were still undressing..

Justified, the motion implied..
tell the tale..
earn the lions share..

Then we go back through the painted black..
the instant the instinct becomes urge..
when it's hard to swallow..
but it's all that you can do..

I've supplied a plain view..
I've recovered from foreign regret..
I've seen the sun and beyond..
I've been hit by light, sound and vibration..

all in tune with the minuscule affirmation..
all in tune with the meaning of life for a second..
but the third never comes..
and I'm left in the sand..
with the moon in my hands..

Paper match

If you've seen me in this scene, then why are we staling..
thru and throughout, it's a session..
that we needed for admission of defeat..
to solidify the perdition and the elevated conjuring of essence,
this bitter ambivalent presence...




That smile and matching sun glass glare..
the empty manipulative stare that I no longer wish to posses..
the prophet swings on vines of vinyl..
and locks the room with his personal key...

Animinated, smiles abound and kill the jaded..
you feel elated, in a haze develop scenes for the persuaded..
by the foreward thinking integrated..
from the bird nest aim to shoot the elevated..

Prime numbers around the room..
they jump without rites or consequence..
and in the ultimate outcome and gloom..
they become golden when placed in perfect sequence..

The wind leaves..

This is dismal,
volatile, pathetic,
until you are tricked into becoming integrated..

Dark circles under heavy eyes..
pure promise too far away to be real..
the size fluctuates..
in there and there in lies the appeal..

Lies, lie next to each other..
circle the mother for leverage..
done with tainted kindness, ..

establish..

the insolence and the
- isolation.. -
the distances made by looking away to the comfort of frustration..
meeting repeated one too many times..

..But not enough to realize, that we live in circles and cycles, always trying to get away from each other, complaint and retribution, pilgrimage to a humble solution, breathe the canvas in through pores, my eyes don't work like that, can I use yours?, proof is not needed, but it still closes doors, standing an inch away from where I was before..