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Monday, September 12, 2011

you cant help

The night feeds my soul and fills my head with bad ideas
living ghostly tracings of life beyond measure
I almost died in Lebanon, I literally saw a flash between my life and unknown sacrificial fires. As scared as a silent new born. I was speechless and realized we were only ghost in each others presence. I could not speak. When my bones thrive and crackle under thee moon in her fullest. Lost in the darkness of time.. to tired right now but ill be sure to dance under HER after the next sunset.
I found a stem and built a tree
Wrote all of the forbidden melodies 
i was scared but it made sense to me for it was the hour the critters crawled and founded nest in my limbs.
I LIKE THE ADDICTION OF WRITING LIKE A MAD MAN THROUGH THE DECEIVING WAYS OF HUMAN FORM. ARE YOU READY FOR THE BIOHAZARDS OF Hell??? In the case at matter i would never speak of my own lost battles or of my broken stories made memorable through flesh eating deficiencies. It is the broken soul that replenishes our stream,. That of blood, skin, and the unknown forces that shun a stunt in a growing flicker. my clothes consist of leather and little studs. Big knives with razor sharp blades. woke up from a bad dream and it sent my head spinning. sold my soul, grabbed my hat and ran. had the passion and needed the fix. Down the whispering cloth running through her toes. say what you do ill find a saying that scrambles through the sheets up and over your head. A skull molding of the truth; foreseen through the history of traits. i FELT suffocated and strangled by the man i was waiting for. In the sense of god. queen. mother mary. i resist all matter and create nothing out of everything. The interpretation of a twig through a fixing of fancies.


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