mybeadyeyes

Slow droning black shadow riding cracked painted lines Solum procession, follow the smoked chimmey Floral reefs crack flashes slicing through a sobre world The destination looms caps doffed, lives lost Polished wooden prison paraded above the mob One last good bye, into the eternal flame...

I want cigarettes and alcohol, i want numbness and vitriol I want order and responsibility, i want stability and invincibility I want cocaine and ecstasy, i want vacancy and irresponsibility I want repeatablity and sensibility, i want ownership and status I want femininity and masculinity... I want Order i want Chaos.

Baby im starting to feel strange, the doctor wont take away the pain I wish it was simple but it doesnt make sense Im worried about the future while living in past tense. Ive stoped being my self, i must be someone else Im living an unfimiliar hell, i dont recognise this cell How can i cure myself, when i cant remeber my own health...

burn me down and suck me in flick me aside, savour the sin...

it infuriates me so that wicked pain in ones brain when the heart aces for an answer, but longs for the question... what can claw at your skin, gouge your eyes, bite your flesh, tear at your hair and suffer no consequences What can fester in your insecurities bruise you feelings, rip up your defences and sink your hopes and aspirations down to nothingness... What can break your mind and fold you it into its pocket, plunder what you value most and leave you stranded in the most remote corners of your own conscience... She can, and she's worth it all.

Sour sunlight scorches pale skin, buzzards swoon for their new found sin, stained sands draw the crowds, love is the message and it's delivery in red... Heat rejected in swarms by the ground, so thirsty lips turn to ash in search of tear drops vacant from the expressionless sky, still something stirs in the sickened pale undergrowth...

Your essence ever present like the gentle glow of waning crescent Subtle in its acquiescence Silence sold in delicatessens so foreign is the sound of nothing So stark in its abruption. So sort out by those who seek destruction, by those who are governed by no bounds except the ones in which there found If this is what you seek for peace look only to the dotted sky and listen for gentle sound... of

It's broken, so it works It's good, so it hurts It's love...so it's dirt

Boredom is atop the Rabbit Hole...

The sun set… as it does and people well they stumbled around as they do. Another day come and gone: hundreds dead, thousands born. how dull, Billions of morons scampering for air as they trample over each other to get to the little they have left. A species with only two basic primal functions survival and procreation. Oh the irony, their so busy with one that it’s become a direct contradiction to the other. And to think I had so much hope for them in the beginning…