Past seven hills with wishful minds In a box was a cherished prize Blessed with beauty but not alive There, behold a young corpse bride In the glass case she laid Only for one man to take To far far away Where a kingdom awaits It was a box to never bury or break For…
A dissatisfied offbeat Grimacing at cultureless dumbfucks Mental rhymes on repeat And a Coffee for three bucks Books unread Writing undone The constant corporate dread Fuck what I’ve become And amidst all confusion I recall turning to you To rid this delusion To do what you do And in the most…
He led me into the darkness And left me there
Buried But still alive
empty stomach empty mind empty heart empty life empty hand empty mouth empty.
An unending kind of emptiness. A complicated wanting. A simple desire. Knowledgeable and adequate, but unreachable. Disabled by the failure of attaining that mutual mindset.
Another ghost What I had loved most Infused illusions Imaginative contributions Existent and breathing Without philosophical heeding An undocumented plea Another cup of tea.
Oh how sad it is when we strive to make our assumptions our truths.