This Isnt Poetry, This Is A Neverending Battle. and these words are my scars

[jotd]

Its everytime the blanket covers the sympathy , like the ashes of america. and where the canvas tears, lines the cracks in the moons circumferance. galactic heartbeat, says the age of apocalyptic end. recover the shape of the shadow. shade it with lines and remember that its not easy for sinners to live. so come clean sweet november sky. come clean and show me what it is to die. with clouds of pavement ( " the sky is falling the sky is falling" ) and to not retreat is the slipping of molasses on our heartbeat. suffocation of our own pathetic molecules. this dividend was everything youve ever wanted. as where the fraction of that split second was everything youve ever missed. this is where we saw our guns blaze, this is where our hearts race. if there was a finish line would you meet me in the sky? outline this competitive end. the sketch of disaster. natural aesthitic. complication of neurotic haze.

what is meaningless. to submit to defeat, and the simplicity of a single sound. there is no emptiness. emotion. masked behind lust. taking this far away. why was that night blackened with bliss? black stained heart. barred and blackened was the sheets of her skirt. but there was no soil to be found in the birth of corruption. Deaf before her eyes. complete this dedication to a crumpled vision. the ghosts of neverwhere. but where the scars stand is where i am/ making a stand to different dependency. what is chemical dependency? what is diplomacy? deprived of reations to something internal. a mechanical maniac. a rhythmatic recurrence. residential secrecy, im lost in the age of LUNACY