Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

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Breakout

The walls are so high
I know It
is insane
To think of scaling them

The kind of challenge
impossible to ignore
unable to avoid
its ornate glow

A creature of the Earth, though thoughtful
and considerate of the vast acreage
land plots, awaiting Blix,
I wish to drink from the trough

Therefore, preparation,
a component necessary
for success, in the ultimate escape

Ten years worth of gun powder,
Starting shot is fired, GO
It has, finally begun

My legs respond first, jerking into action
readying my stance
Preparing for freedom
Salivating for salvation

I hit the wall at full speed
Body weight multiplied by velocity,
You forgot about lift

I vault half the wall in a single leap,
the last ten years were simple
now it must happen

Pain, the silence of solitude may persist,
I may subsist sleeping in a car,
I may end up in a freeway divide,
thanking my stars

I may find delight in the most impoverished of circumstance
While the status quo is  mass starvation

Contextual Sublinguist

Baffled by her
responses
lacking clarity

She sifts through mist
Lost, adrift
mind fools lip
her spine is a fool

Choosing to, hold up
Regrets’ weight
crushing Hate
blushing when I ache
face red, she has regressed
I am dust no trace, lost in flakes
not quite,
but there exists a Boston Taste

Hate, do I need to cheap press
Berating, coal baked with each step
relating your face with burning
sensations turn leaving her speechless

That is a cheap dress
malicious intention
window dressing is not still impressing
jaw tension, all raw condescension
pills won’t sweep away your flawed contravention

She truly fears mind canvas
unruly tears, cry when I vanish

 

Objects Left Helpless and Forgotten

Ten thousand used cigarette butts line the sidewalk,
while a blackened, forgotten shoe has been left to the wayside
it watches traffic pass, not asking for a helping foot
or a matching shoe to place adjacent to it,
if only for comfort

homes crushed by quaking forces of gaia
bodies, like biscuits, crumbling under thunderous strength
the black shoe starves for attention,
while humans forgot where it came from
where they originated

Trying to crush hatred below the sky,
and cannot even feign sacred cries
how  a prophetic never lies

The levers cry out for attention, but the black shoe is left on the wayside
ignored by all who pass it by, for they have shoes of their own
don’t need its decrepit protection from the elements
now, the elements rain against it

the pace never changes, while the weather swirls dust-ridden ranges
patient pasture awaits its drink,
while a single patient lingers, deep in double-think

the black shoe will eventually perish, imitating all life
shortened attempts of longevity
wishes for limitless bounds
bliss found in frigid shrouds
kissing feet of rigid sows

Burning Gaze

I awaited a left turn,
as you rushed by
never expecting
your burning gaze

As my glance caught yours
I was floored,
never expecting
such gestures with,
instigation lacking

I calculated the acute angle
which you traveled
45 degrees: the location of
our vision locking
impossibly intertwined in an ether of incompatibility
hopelessly awash in the Universe’s sea

You hit the acceleration except
at the moment you devoured my composition

The real enigma in this story,
did not materialize from your eyes

it was your dark lips as they cracked
revealing a jaded smirk
concealing inner ways you work

I watched in the driver’s side mirror,
as your vehicle faded
satiated by what we shared,
a momentary, burning gaze

The Taste of Rage

I awake, reality institutes deceptive assault
daring me to stoke the flames,
staring at me begging for coal
daring me to fuel the fire

Reality spit at my face,
haphazard, decrepit strategy
as I tried to ignore the putrid stench

The world awoke, raining frozen hydrogen from above
enclosing the sun in cumulonimbus gloves,
foolish trick masquerading as a dove

Duality lit totality ablaze
Forever gazing through absent haze
Pleasure hazing monastic graves

Spastic legs, I walk, misconstrued
plastic dregs talk, confused
harassing pegs, they overlooked bombs’ fuse

Today, silence resounding calms
no vibrations from violent pounding palms
tomorrow more journey for floundering prawn

Five Nights, One Dream

Through five nights of slumber,
only one lent a dream,
to its incapacitated-captive audience

What does it mean?
When you awake from REM,
and wish to return, if only possible to complete the sequence

Though I cannot recall every detail,
the dream remains with me,
changing my outlook

And when I return, this sequence will be complete,
showing reality as it truly exists
neurons firing in chemical capacity

Status in Decline

As I watch my status unravel,
tension twisting every fiber into a hundred different directions,
I wonder if I will ever comprehend the meaning of it all
I sit here in another bout of self composed silence, wondering if music will ever color this colorless canvas
Wondering if my actions are fallacious attempts at logic
Or seminal fits of insanity
I think back to how stupid I’ve been, not to gather and protect that which now is unobtainable
And then by some chance of luck,
A hand somewhere in the blackness of the universe
Has extended their hand outward
Not ever asking for even a breath in return for what they have done
How can I ever thank these nameless, faceless people for the gift they have bestowed
And not just to me. But to lonely drifters who seek out hope loyalty and love, in curtains of ash, in abandon buildings which echo at your footsteps
How can I thank those who never asked for gratitude
And how can I perchance, come across this one last loose end which constantly haunts and taunts me, my love of folly, falling to the folly of love
I am blinded by fantastical ideas of shining hair sirens whispering the songs I wish to hear,
When I know, the second I turn toward them, they vanish
And the one I now am willing to turn toward eternally, turns from me
She doesn’t know how much my jealous and daring soul wishes to be thrown to she wolves in whores clothing,
Animalistic heathens who reflect what is within my darkest hour
She won’t realize where my loyalties reside
She couldn’t comprehend my exactitude of nonconformity
She can’t cope with my loss of ridicule
To these pages I am nothing but an open book, laughs echoing again against the abandon walls of abandon buildings
A shadowed corner of inhumanity
Unveiled for all to surveil
No one, maybe not even I
Will ever know what that path leads to
But as I inch closer to the edge of the water
I hear its sounds rushing against the sheer crushing force of indecision and unknown probabilities
Will another hold me as close as her
Will another love me as she claims
Will another eight years be eaten in a constant fruitless search for a tree bearing fruit
Trying to find a mate, daring enough to sample its offering

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