sitting in the broken land.


sitting in the broken land. surrounded by dead memories of lost friends.

family and friends are all dead,

the ties to my history have no thread.

i lay motionless,

cry towards beauty and sonnetts to the grave,

all truth told in reverse. 

the human mouth speaks nothing but an alive curse.

hot may.

i lived and passed along the demons that were tagging along.

chip on my heart where my gurdain angel stayed, i moved on and he left me to my ways i regret the cost that i paid to live in a world filled with different shades of grey. 


inside mybody and inbetween my spouses thighs,

kill my seed. 

a timeless account of different rhyme schemes isnt what i invision for the other part of me. 

please stay and learn to read the emotions i write, 

to die is the command and i tried


do it.

the devil waits for my every movement.

if i said i was going to help you then there wouldnt be any evidence to prove it,

mutilated faces on display.

i drew it.


i grew it

 one day all the pain will go away and ill live in a different place with others like me telling of the different acounts were they tasted shame,


i am 

same we are

different scenerios of how i can kill and how you can cry

in my hand is my remedy,

take a slice

we all dance the steps to dead mice.


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