Rattle, rattle, rattle,
The chains pressing on my limbs rattle,
Rattle, rattle, rattle,
The chain leashing my neck rattles,
Crack, crack, crack,
I resist it, and the chains start to crack,
Crack, crack, crack,
O, what small, little cracks...
Break, break, break,
An ear-piercing tinnitus, they begin to break,
Break, break, break,
Yet they force themselves together, it cannot break.
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Just thinking about how if I bashed my head on the desk right now it wouldn't be as pretty as my mind imagines it, a scarlet fluid flowing giving birth slowly, yet carefully and meticulously to beautiful red roses with their roots in it to symbolize I was "courageous" enough to end it all. No, that's just a pretty lie, a deceitful shortcut out of a momentary despair.
The aftermath of it would be a blood stained mess of ripped skin, dry hair, popped eyeballs and lastly, my broken skull, the very core housing the abstract machine that allowed me to continue living.
This is why I will not die.
The aftermath of it would be a blood stained mess of ripped skin, dry hair, popped eyeballs and lastly, my broken skull, the very core housing the abstract machine that allowed me to continue living.
This is why I will not die.
Boxes, boxes
we live in boxes
we define who we are,
with the help of the boxes (boxes)
we don't go very far,
we stay in the boxes (boxes)
don't mind the shooting stars,
they're foreign to the boxes (boxes)
we don't know what we are (boxes)
you'll all go very far (boxes)
you are a shooting star! (boxes)
boxes, boxes.
we live in boxes
we define who we are,
with the help of the boxes (boxes)
we don't go very far,
we stay in the boxes (boxes)
don't mind the shooting stars,
they're foreign to the boxes (boxes)
we don't know what we are (boxes)
you'll all go very far (boxes)
you are a shooting star! (boxes)
boxes, boxes.
On a tuesday afternoon, after the toughest classes of the days had passed, came Religion class. We never did much during it, and this time was no different, only now I'd decided to myself to hang out with some girls that generally didn't bully me. Another guy was sitting beside them, the only one in that group, someone I never had the best impression of, but I decided to ignore my thoughts for now.
One of the girls, one with a particularly large chest, decided that we play Mafia, a game I'd never played or knew much about. To my surprise, the rules were surprisingly simple, I caught them along as I played. I got the paper that said "Dame" - with another word in brackets, "(The Whore)", underneath it - twice, I thought to myself… Lam the whore… it felt nice.
I wasn't really getting the point of the game in the earlier rounds, most of the picking of other people we had to do felt random due to a near void amount of information, I was more enthralled by our big chested friend saying "Killer" - having written the same thing on that role's paper - in English, rather than our native language.
"Daida!", was the host's name, "if you look at them when you're telling them to wake up we can tell who's who!!" I heard one of the girls say after a game.
I accidentally peeked through my hands once during one of the - I suppose you'd call them - rounds, Daida was pretty mad at me and told me that I'm out of the game, I felt pretty sad because of that, I felt like I broke some unwritten rule and was forever branded with exile from the group, from just a tiny mistake like that. Truth be told, that's how all my life's been.
The game ended with some disappointment as we couldn't really get a satisfactory round with such a low number of villagers. The guy, I'd previously mentioned now took the role of the game host and decided we play completely sifferent games.
"They're really fucking stupid games, just you see," Flavius remarked with a specific expression, cu schepsis.
First was a game where he was to have a fake disease and we'd have to guess what it was based on questions he could only answer with yes or no. I felt uneasy.
There also had to be a doctor picked, so a blonde haired girl, who was relatively short with green eyes, volunteered.
"Do you hallucinate?", asked Anne.
"No." he denied with a carefree nod.
"Well, that's out I guess." said another girl, maybe Lya.
"Does your sickness exist?" I ask, smartly pointing my finger towards our ill patient, having easily beaten the schepsis in my mind.
"No." he denied, as I heard the sounds of shattering glass in my mind, that was… my heart.
"Are you a woman?" asked Gina, another one of the girls, adjusting her glasses.
"Yes."
…Huh??? So what the hell is it? This was our first positive answer.
"Are you a transexual?" asked our doctor, as I flinched from just hearing that word.
"That's not an illness…" I interjected a bit awkwardly.
"I know…" she said, sort of sighing.
He denied it though, phew, not a situation I wanted to suffer today.
"Are you aware of your illness?" asked Anne.
"No…" he denied but added more, with some slight frustration, "You're supposed to ask questions related to how I fucking look, physical questions." then once more, "but if I tell you more than that, you're gonna get it."
Soon after, another one of the girls simply asked:
"Are you blonde?"
"Yes." said Flavius, his appearance changing before our eyes.
"Do you have green eyes?"
"Yes.” he said, having now the face of our doctor.
"Are you Anne?"
"Yup." said… Anne's doppelganger?
God fucking damn it.
He literally even said it's a stupid game.
"I got another one though," said this fucking guy, the shape of his figure now its original form, "but first I have to pick someone to explain the rules of the game to."
He got Anne, he whispered in her ear for a bit, I wish a guy could whisper in my ear like that affectionately honestly, it's such a shame he's mostly a dick because not only does he look gay but he’s also hot.
"I love you, L-", he did not say that, I'm trailing off.
"-es are simple, you all have to go to our island, and you can bring something, anything, only we two have to approve it."
Well, I guess that must mean pattern recognition. Let's see, I suppose.
He started, "Mmmm… I'll bring a fruit."
Then his associate: "Hmm, I'll get an archeologist."
That's not really a thing, but alright, I'll bite.
Gina was up, "a… zebra crossing?"
"Nnnnah-ah", our landlord denied with much dismissal in his voice.
Then Lya, "a road sign?"
"Nope." still with that annoying intonation.
Then it was me, but still, I had no idea, so I went with something that fit rhe theme of the first 2 words, "a dinosaur?"
"Bzzzt, nooope."
And we went across the circle again,
"...I'll bring flight."
"...and I'll get some apostles."
Religion, I guess?
"Some construction workers?" "Nope."
I suppose her thought process was that they built churches… but I'm not sure. I wonder if 'light' would work?
"Then I'll bring light." "You can bring that."
How the hell did that even happen?? Did she read my mind?? But anyway, that must mean I was right.
Then they'd asked her if she figured it out, whispered for a bit, then went back to their seats.
"A prayer." I say confidently, and I near immediately get a dejected "No."
Well, fuck.
But not before the girl who just got a correct answer tried to intervene, but was ultimately refused by our pretentious hosts, she was back to square one.
Round 3,
"France." "America!"
The theme is… completely different now.
"Germany!!", said the following girl, and again, to our surprise, "Yup, you can bring that too."
Then they whispered the answer to each other. This made me feel tense, I'd always hated being left last, and it seems it was gonna wind up like that, with the recent promotion of our friend, Gina.
"Spain?" "Nope."
Fuck it.
"India." "Sure, you can bring that,"
YES!
He then whispered to me, "Did you figure it out?"
I quietly said back, "...Places on earth with… significance… in… history, I guess? And it's a different theme each round?"
"Hahahaha, nope, try some more."
Fuck me, man.
Rondaaaa quatroooo,
"Fork." "Army." "Gun."
With the hosts growing impatient, no legible theme could tie their responses, so I began to notice something else in the answers, the names of all the things mentioned in their answers… began with the first letter of their names. It was precisely something cu schepsis.
"A lamp?" said Lya, "Sure."
YES! She’d admitted right after it was a random guess, so I still have a chance!
And, I went all out, "A LARGE, LUXURIOUS, LABYRINTHINE LOOP-DE-LOOP." I declared victoriously.
The host was in awe for a split second "...er, Sorry, nope." What? My eyes widened in awe, what the fuck else could it be?
The game ended, as he determined we, the two left, wouldn't be able to figure it out, "It was any word that started with the first letter of your name."
…What? I literally said like three, I even thought of the possibility of the answer themselves – as opposed to the words – starting with the first letter of our names, just to show off with the biggest answer yet, and… all for nothing?
Yet this is still odd, I did get one answer right, “India”, what’s I even from–
Oh.
Right.
I forgot my real name again.
One of the girls, one with a particularly large chest, decided that we play Mafia, a game I'd never played or knew much about. To my surprise, the rules were surprisingly simple, I caught them along as I played. I got the paper that said "Dame" - with another word in brackets, "(The Whore)", underneath it - twice, I thought to myself… Lam the whore… it felt nice.
I wasn't really getting the point of the game in the earlier rounds, most of the picking of other people we had to do felt random due to a near void amount of information, I was more enthralled by our big chested friend saying "Killer" - having written the same thing on that role's paper - in English, rather than our native language.
"Daida!", was the host's name, "if you look at them when you're telling them to wake up we can tell who's who!!" I heard one of the girls say after a game.
I accidentally peeked through my hands once during one of the - I suppose you'd call them - rounds, Daida was pretty mad at me and told me that I'm out of the game, I felt pretty sad because of that, I felt like I broke some unwritten rule and was forever branded with exile from the group, from just a tiny mistake like that. Truth be told, that's how all my life's been.
The game ended with some disappointment as we couldn't really get a satisfactory round with such a low number of villagers. The guy, I'd previously mentioned now took the role of the game host and decided we play completely sifferent games.
"They're really fucking stupid games, just you see," Flavius remarked with a specific expression, cu schepsis.
First was a game where he was to have a fake disease and we'd have to guess what it was based on questions he could only answer with yes or no. I felt uneasy.
There also had to be a doctor picked, so a blonde haired girl, who was relatively short with green eyes, volunteered.
"Do you hallucinate?", asked Anne.
"No." he denied with a carefree nod.
"Well, that's out I guess." said another girl, maybe Lya.
"Does your sickness exist?" I ask, smartly pointing my finger towards our ill patient, having easily beaten the schepsis in my mind.
"No." he denied, as I heard the sounds of shattering glass in my mind, that was… my heart.
"Are you a woman?" asked Gina, another one of the girls, adjusting her glasses.
"Yes."
…Huh??? So what the hell is it? This was our first positive answer.
"Are you a transexual?" asked our doctor, as I flinched from just hearing that word.
"That's not an illness…" I interjected a bit awkwardly.
"I know…" she said, sort of sighing.
He denied it though, phew, not a situation I wanted to suffer today.
"Are you aware of your illness?" asked Anne.
"No…" he denied but added more, with some slight frustration, "You're supposed to ask questions related to how I fucking look, physical questions." then once more, "but if I tell you more than that, you're gonna get it."
Soon after, another one of the girls simply asked:
"Are you blonde?"
"Yes." said Flavius, his appearance changing before our eyes.
"Do you have green eyes?"
"Yes.” he said, having now the face of our doctor.
"Are you Anne?"
"Yup." said… Anne's doppelganger?
God fucking damn it.
He literally even said it's a stupid game.
"I got another one though," said this fucking guy, the shape of his figure now its original form, "but first I have to pick someone to explain the rules of the game to."
He got Anne, he whispered in her ear for a bit, I wish a guy could whisper in my ear like that affectionately honestly, it's such a shame he's mostly a dick because not only does he look gay but he’s also hot.
"I love you, L-", he did not say that, I'm trailing off.
"-es are simple, you all have to go to our island, and you can bring something, anything, only we two have to approve it."
Well, I guess that must mean pattern recognition. Let's see, I suppose.
He started, "Mmmm… I'll bring a fruit."
Then his associate: "Hmm, I'll get an archeologist."
That's not really a thing, but alright, I'll bite.
Gina was up, "a… zebra crossing?"
"Nnnnah-ah", our landlord denied with much dismissal in his voice.
Then Lya, "a road sign?"
"Nope." still with that annoying intonation.
Then it was me, but still, I had no idea, so I went with something that fit rhe theme of the first 2 words, "a dinosaur?"
"Bzzzt, nooope."
And we went across the circle again,
"...I'll bring flight."
"...and I'll get some apostles."
Religion, I guess?
"Some construction workers?" "Nope."
I suppose her thought process was that they built churches… but I'm not sure. I wonder if 'light' would work?
"Then I'll bring light." "You can bring that."
How the hell did that even happen?? Did she read my mind?? But anyway, that must mean I was right.
Then they'd asked her if she figured it out, whispered for a bit, then went back to their seats.
"A prayer." I say confidently, and I near immediately get a dejected "No."
Well, fuck.
But not before the girl who just got a correct answer tried to intervene, but was ultimately refused by our pretentious hosts, she was back to square one.
Round 3,
"France." "America!"
The theme is… completely different now.
"Germany!!", said the following girl, and again, to our surprise, "Yup, you can bring that too."
Then they whispered the answer to each other. This made me feel tense, I'd always hated being left last, and it seems it was gonna wind up like that, with the recent promotion of our friend, Gina.
"Spain?" "Nope."
Fuck it.
"India." "Sure, you can bring that,"
YES!
He then whispered to me, "Did you figure it out?"
I quietly said back, "...Places on earth with… significance… in… history, I guess? And it's a different theme each round?"
"Hahahaha, nope, try some more."
Fuck me, man.
Rondaaaa quatroooo,
"Fork." "Army." "Gun."
With the hosts growing impatient, no legible theme could tie their responses, so I began to notice something else in the answers, the names of all the things mentioned in their answers… began with the first letter of their names. It was precisely something cu schepsis.
"A lamp?" said Lya, "Sure."
YES! She’d admitted right after it was a random guess, so I still have a chance!
And, I went all out, "A LARGE, LUXURIOUS, LABYRINTHINE LOOP-DE-LOOP." I declared victoriously.
The host was in awe for a split second "...er, Sorry, nope." What? My eyes widened in awe, what the fuck else could it be?
The game ended, as he determined we, the two left, wouldn't be able to figure it out, "It was any word that started with the first letter of your name."
…What? I literally said like three, I even thought of the possibility of the answer themselves – as opposed to the words – starting with the first letter of our names, just to show off with the biggest answer yet, and… all for nothing?
Yet this is still odd, I did get one answer right, “India”, what’s I even from–
Oh.
Right.
I forgot my real name again.
"Please."
Drenched in the clear snow, two people with sticks drew patterns, drag, drag, drag. Two lines close to eachother... with tricks like zig-zags, small curves and simple straight lines, drag, drag, drag. Unknown letters, symbols forming a sentence without end or beginning. Drag, drag.
The storm screams harder, her voice pained but unwavering, but the artists only continue to chisel, drag, drag. They're trembling. Draaaag. They fall to the ground.
"Idleness." The storm clouded its lips, "How beautiful."
But nobody was there. The sticks begin to stand upright and support the cold weight that collapsed upon them.
"Oh."
Nobody was there. Only it. With the leaving of the storm, the sun showed its face, giving its light to it.
"That's a bit better."
Nothing is there.
"What are you talking about?"
...the weight supported by the two sticks was a grotesque pile of rotting meat.
"Is that really how I look like?" ...it said nonsense, "Come on, take a closer look, won't you? I'm the prettiest babe you'd ever laid your eyes on!"
It extended a muscular tendon akin to a tentacle towards... nowhere?
"You know you don't want to think that."
Its imitation of an arm quickly fell on the ground after the quick sound of a slicing was heard. The meat contracted in pain.
"What'd you do that for, you prick?!", the string of sounds resonating out of it sounded almost like gibberish, "You know I just wanted to hold your hand, right?"
Oh.
Drenched in the clear snow, two people with sticks drew patterns, drag, drag, drag. Two lines close to eachother... with tricks like zig-zags, small curves and simple straight lines, drag, drag, drag. Unknown letters, symbols forming a sentence without end or beginning. Drag, drag.
The storm screams harder, her voice pained but unwavering, but the artists only continue to chisel, drag, drag. They're trembling. Draaaag. They fall to the ground.
"Idleness." The storm clouded its lips, "How beautiful."
But nobody was there. The sticks begin to stand upright and support the cold weight that collapsed upon them.
"Oh."
Nobody was there. Only it. With the leaving of the storm, the sun showed its face, giving its light to it.
"That's a bit better."
Nothing is there.
"What are you talking about?"
...the weight supported by the two sticks was a grotesque pile of rotting meat.
"Is that really how I look like?" ...it said nonsense, "Come on, take a closer look, won't you? I'm the prettiest babe you'd ever laid your eyes on!"
It extended a muscular tendon akin to a tentacle towards... nowhere?
"You know you don't want to think that."
Its imitation of an arm quickly fell on the ground after the quick sound of a slicing was heard. The meat contracted in pain.
"What'd you do that for, you prick?!", the string of sounds resonating out of it sounded almost like gibberish, "You know I just wanted to hold your hand, right?"
Oh.
Every perceived "miss" I feel after an attempt at bonding woth someone I trust is like a dagger cleanly inserted into my body to assure my pain in every second, and this dagger is not theirs, but mine, I stab myself slowly and don't stop. The wound is infected by how dirty that knife already is, it's been in every single spot on my body.
I feel a guilt towards those who accept me, whenever it will be time to take off my clothes again they will only see a disgusting, rotten corpse of who they laughed with this entire time. I'm sorry to everyone I've wasted time from their life with reciting shitty stories from my life, I wish it'd all burn up in a dumpster along with everyone who's made me like this.
This anxious piece of shit animal, which only took the place of a grinning liar. The person who burns me with their cold eyes whenever I absentmindedly walk into another room in this piece of shit apartment. He stares at me with that twisted expression of antipathy, of which seeds planted by the ignorant and the superstitious, the alcholic and the pervert. They're all seeds from which I grew today and I resent the inherent corruption that eats at me to this day. My vessel is a broken vase stitched by decaying bandages and super glue. I have tried to cut the stems several times but the roots are there growing from the inside pushing out towards my organs wanting to spill them out.
The water is my poison. They water me everyday because that's what "living" is. There's more sprouts on my soil. When I wasn't looking, more people planted things in me, they didn't have names, they are all copies of the samw sillhouette. I tried desperately to cut them, but the corruption still spread.
Some people don't care for my flaws.
They look besides the rotten scars and the half broken vase, but what do they see in me?
What do you see in me?
If I'm not both poet and fraud, both interesting and dull, both a boy and a girl, both broken and not,
then,
Who are you?
I feel a guilt towards those who accept me, whenever it will be time to take off my clothes again they will only see a disgusting, rotten corpse of who they laughed with this entire time. I'm sorry to everyone I've wasted time from their life with reciting shitty stories from my life, I wish it'd all burn up in a dumpster along with everyone who's made me like this.
This anxious piece of shit animal, which only took the place of a grinning liar. The person who burns me with their cold eyes whenever I absentmindedly walk into another room in this piece of shit apartment. He stares at me with that twisted expression of antipathy, of which seeds planted by the ignorant and the superstitious, the alcholic and the pervert. They're all seeds from which I grew today and I resent the inherent corruption that eats at me to this day. My vessel is a broken vase stitched by decaying bandages and super glue. I have tried to cut the stems several times but the roots are there growing from the inside pushing out towards my organs wanting to spill them out.
The water is my poison. They water me everyday because that's what "living" is. There's more sprouts on my soil. When I wasn't looking, more people planted things in me, they didn't have names, they are all copies of the samw sillhouette. I tried desperately to cut them, but the corruption still spread.
Some people don't care for my flaws.
They look besides the rotten scars and the half broken vase, but what do they see in me?
What do you see in me?
If I'm not both poet and fraud, both interesting and dull, both a boy and a girl, both broken and not,
then,
Who are you?
How do you resist the "biteflesh" urge?
It's a pain quite deeply protruding my soul, a cold nail hammered into my chest by hands unknown, though at times it feels like an ever-expanding drill only largening the hole within my small heart, that I'd even thought I'd hid within millions of small pebbles - all forming the shape of what's really missing.
I was born with this nail, and it was born with me, it stabbed me just as I'd taken my first breath, all my orifices held hands and I'd sung a song of crimson with them painting my birthroom the disgusting color of dead meat.
"{¥[|✓`¶¢=[`\€¶`{¢{", said a man without skin, him too covered in blood, "€=¥[¥¶¥×¥[¢{^[^[$}¥¶¥`?"
"ShUeieIrhwbaQKRJjsnwoSjsn"
"¥=¥✓¥¥{$`¶`}`|{{¢{|[•==$=¢{"
"Isitashe ?"
"✓"
Empty mind, I lacked anything. My blood only kept pouring out; and within the blink of an eye, I woke up with the disguise of a real human, all of my scars seemingly gone.
Though, I'd soon noticed this gift was not without a price, the blood in my body was at an unnatural percentage of 0.0000000000079%.
Getting a body used all of my blood, and in spite of its clean exterior, it was anything but me. It looked like a decaying husk, and almost as if it was a cruel joke played by ¥°$={¢}¥, it had flies orbitting it as well.
Ready for an ultimate end, begging for it.
But as I'd mentioned, I still had blood, it somehow came back, in that microscopic fraction which only made the flesh covering me able to move.
But I hunger for more blood. I'm so thirsty. It feels like I'm the only one who is so deprived, everyone looks so full, others have gallons upon gallons they'll never even drink, a show of superiority, a spit in my face.
But if I do not have blood, then I have flesh, and my body I've cut and cut and put it on display for the entertainment and disdain of others, and for few, a great joy in seeing the same cuts on themselves. It's made another liquid flow through me, giving me a stable form.
But my famine is far too great to accept that falsehood. Why do they have so much fucking blood? Why do I only have 0.0000000000079%?
I want to eat somebody now.
I was born with this nail, and it was born with me, it stabbed me just as I'd taken my first breath, all my orifices held hands and I'd sung a song of crimson with them painting my birthroom the disgusting color of dead meat.
"{¥[|✓`¶¢=[`\€¶`{¢{", said a man without skin, him too covered in blood, "€=¥[¥¶¥×¥[¢{^[^[$}¥¶¥`?"
"ShUeieIrhwbaQKRJjsnwoSjsn"
"¥=¥✓¥¥{$`¶`}`|{{¢{|[•==$=¢{"
"Isitashe ?"
"✓"
Empty mind, I lacked anything. My blood only kept pouring out; and within the blink of an eye, I woke up with the disguise of a real human, all of my scars seemingly gone.
Though, I'd soon noticed this gift was not without a price, the blood in my body was at an unnatural percentage of 0.0000000000079%.
Getting a body used all of my blood, and in spite of its clean exterior, it was anything but me. It looked like a decaying husk, and almost as if it was a cruel joke played by ¥°$={¢}¥, it had flies orbitting it as well.
Ready for an ultimate end, begging for it.
But as I'd mentioned, I still had blood, it somehow came back, in that microscopic fraction which only made the flesh covering me able to move.
But I hunger for more blood. I'm so thirsty. It feels like I'm the only one who is so deprived, everyone looks so full, others have gallons upon gallons they'll never even drink, a show of superiority, a spit in my face.
But if I do not have blood, then I have flesh, and my body I've cut and cut and put it on display for the entertainment and disdain of others, and for few, a great joy in seeing the same cuts on themselves. It's made another liquid flow through me, giving me a stable form.
But my famine is far too great to accept that falsehood. Why do they have so much fucking blood? Why do I only have 0.0000000000079%?
I want to eat somebody now.
wrap your hands around my neck
and let it all end
my friend
rip it open, i beg
i suppose it wants to breathe
its aching
aching, breaking
and our ends wont meet
so wrap around tighter
hold me, hug me
i am afraid to be
a mess of a fighter
can i cry again?
i promise i wont make a mess
look at my dress
it has not a single stain
but her face is red with bruises
no matter how many excuses
you cannot let yourself ignore
how much strength shed had to pour
your hands now off her nape
you embrace her lovely shape
and your eyes now filled with tears
you see only stars
a constellation
a brautiful formation
yet it wants return to zero
her thoughts now seem narrow
the same fuckup one more?
wont you just kill me?
somehow, this i could foresee
it really is quite a bore-
but you turn her around
and her face once frowned
you kiss her
she's always so bitter
she's always so bitter
and let it all end
my friend
rip it open, i beg
i suppose it wants to breathe
its aching
aching, breaking
and our ends wont meet
so wrap around tighter
hold me, hug me
i am afraid to be
a mess of a fighter
can i cry again?
i promise i wont make a mess
look at my dress
it has not a single stain
but her face is red with bruises
no matter how many excuses
you cannot let yourself ignore
how much strength shed had to pour
your hands now off her nape
you embrace her lovely shape
and your eyes now filled with tears
you see only stars
a constellation
a brautiful formation
yet it wants return to zero
her thoughts now seem narrow
the same fuckup one more?
wont you just kill me?
somehow, this i could foresee
it really is quite a bore-
but you turn her around
and her face once frowned
you kiss her
she's always so bitter
she's always so bitter
im drinking my tea in pitched blackedness
a lunatic without a moon
a senile old lady on top of the mountain
a dark red object
gravity pushes and pulls a dark red object
the size of the moon
the shape of the moon
the form of the moon
the colors are wrong
a false red moon
its circling around me at speeds uncounted
its spinning
the whole sky is scarlet red in a moments notice
the red rock spun around the mountain drowning it in red scarlet bloodbath
the senile old lady didn't exist
a lunatic without a moon
a senile old lady on top of the mountain
a dark red object
gravity pushes and pulls a dark red object
the size of the moon
the shape of the moon
the form of the moon
the colors are wrong
a false red moon
its circling around me at speeds uncounted
its spinning
the whole sky is scarlet red in a moments notice
the red rock spun around the mountain drowning it in red scarlet bloodbath
the senile old lady didn't exist
God has arranged it at all for me, my wealthy mother, and .
My mother and my grandmother looked me in the eye, their faces twice as huge as mine, and I cried. Why? I was told to obey the shrine.
The shrine was fine... I ponder. And yet I began to wonder, if the place's so full of class, why do they try and hit a good lass on the ass?
And here was me, on the TV, a crying face, a real disgrace! Bruises, wounds, and cuts to bone, a groan, a moan and then a stone. Stone in my heart, a dirty piece of art. Face of flesh, to masses, exposed, and none were unopposed. The shrine was fine, so was the wine, a happy sign.
My mother, oh brother, she fought the other. The mass of class, but alas, a wineglass now dropped, right in the snow. Our fellow white floor, and I was a fool, for the wine wasn't fine, nor benign, but a shine had crossed my mind...
And I looked below at the scarlet flow, it was slow, it had a glow, and though I didn't know, it was a show. Scarlet festival of sin, spread was skin, it made me grin, the love for kin was thin, and yet, we still begin.
My mother and my grandmother looked me in the eye, their faces twice as huge as mine, and I cried. Why? I was told to obey the shrine.
The shrine was fine... I ponder. And yet I began to wonder, if the place's so full of class, why do they try and hit a good lass on the ass?
And here was me, on the TV, a crying face, a real disgrace! Bruises, wounds, and cuts to bone, a groan, a moan and then a stone. Stone in my heart, a dirty piece of art. Face of flesh, to masses, exposed, and none were unopposed. The shrine was fine, so was the wine, a happy sign.
My mother, oh brother, she fought the other. The mass of class, but alas, a wineglass now dropped, right in the snow. Our fellow white floor, and I was a fool, for the wine wasn't fine, nor benign, but a shine had crossed my mind...
And I looked below at the scarlet flow, it was slow, it had a glow, and though I didn't know, it was a show. Scarlet festival of sin, spread was skin, it made me grin, the love for kin was thin, and yet, we still begin.
I'll dig this hole of my red-stained hands, my nails scratching dirt long dry and solid, my nails are my implenent and finally they should fall apart, with me.
I'll dig this hole with the tips of my fingers, nails chipped, scarlet leakage, a dirt like sand of the mesa.
I'll dig this hole with my arms, each of one long joint, flowing duelling dreams together.
I'll dig this hole with my teeth, vermillion vigor from taste anew.
I'll dig it whole like that, then my ashen wings will sprout, coal-scathed blooming flowers, moving wildly, dying red, decennium dust. My mind will come to one:
"And what for? Is this forevermore? Or was it before? What is my core?
Am I a whore?"
I'll dig this hole with the tips of my fingers, nails chipped, scarlet leakage, a dirt like sand of the mesa.
I'll dig this hole with my arms, each of one long joint, flowing duelling dreams together.
I'll dig this hole with my teeth, vermillion vigor from taste anew.
I'll dig it whole like that, then my ashen wings will sprout, coal-scathed blooming flowers, moving wildly, dying red, decennium dust. My mind will come to one:
"And what for? Is this forevermore? Or was it before? What is my core?
Am I a whore?"