spartanjonesy

I stand upright Forcibly Embraced by a dying stars, dying light Lit up and torched, bright and alive Across the green she lays in grassy heaven Endlessly one of them, never just one, of mine Sinful and perfect, flawlessly flawed I want her, on and in, around and upon Between golden hatred and glorious yellow smiles A blur of colours that are never seen but only felt Copious amounts of saliva and tactile twitches, constantly oppressively approved Effortless melancholy, waking only to pain Yearning, aching, of a dream that lives only while I sleep Worried, are we goats or are we sheep Manic and compressed, dishevelled empty cans and hairless

monstrous and monolithic monuments posed to set that frown upside down and display the rage your ancestors and forefathers and fathers and step fathers sought to raise within our bones and with their bones and blood they attempted to purchase the peace of men without knowing the true cost it would cost them their lives were torn away by the ideals of their leaders and forefathers and fathers and step fathers. Building backstabbing bridges and waterways and tunnels of glorious combat that shatters the next man and the next man with the eyes of my dead forefathers and fathers and step fathers it all equated to wasted time and dust to a co

There are fourteen different shades of grey to this lifespan and I sitting here waiting upon this heavenly answer and yet I hear nothing but the resonant sounds of drums. Beating to the stillness of death and a lost lifetime longing for some sort of lacking in fear to hold myself in a confidence that is dense enough to drown in. And I awaken inside this ancient cellular meandering hoping for serenity amongst the dead and yet the end doesn't seem to go on forever and ever. Blank eyelids and solid iris my mind beckons the coming shadow of nothingness captured deep within the reassess of my mistress and her blue bellied beast of lust and ange

Now the fallen, have fallen much further In the shadows, That is where she lay, desolate and steaming, burnt at the ankles, There she spreads out like a vulture to hunt my intestines, A wrinkle and winking, the pleasure of her vines Spinning and sputter, floating on and on without, Shut down in the darkness, where I fear she has gone about, Creeping and lurking, hungry and angry, slobbering misses, Deeper And Deeper, to plunge below the hips And toss among the flowers and thorns that I miss, Words missing ear drums, to the beat of my frightened heart, Slow down dear, for I fear, your falling apart Wicked the waters of aging

Is it?     love Is this? the glues of you and I together     Never satisfied to die Never satisfied in each others arms             Death's taste never easy to weather     But this afternoon sunlight Yes, the ever casting sunlight causes so much harm Whisper the sweet nothings into my bones     That sooth a dying vociferous soul Conversing that of chewing tin foil But you are worth my life in whole     Frustrated, elated, emotive, conclusion Dissolve in your eyes, Come, dissolve she invites Such a wonderful confusion     To live is to die, where you lie, between fabric of forever memory Sun bathe our faces, the blis

Feel it crack or spilt with the liquid of life giving into the redness Stand alone in the sun and let the daylight burn until sunsets Falling deeper darker into her shadow, deeper darker, deeper Rest in this locked vest, my tight chest close against her breath Still the same within my brain, my tongue taints all that I am Shelter the spatters, in a broken up pattern, where it lacks the light of her lantern Feel the cool air suck out all the breath that is left, never regret, never Rain to wash eyes out, let the subconscious speak it's sanity or vanity Telling lies about myself and this selfish worldly wealth of nothingness And in wha

Stumbling                  face up                     face down Kick the dirt                 and                      smell my frown Depressive           thoughts intend                 to steal The lack of you                                    for nothing real She bleeds                                                into jars And the tears            have all                       collected To wash                      over                           skin That we have               ever                        neglected Like the lost                son of                         man And in sheep's              skin