My Grain

This is a ridiculous escapade. Quite a sight, one worthy of documentation. Frustration found it's freedom, only ton express its opinion to a fellowship. A following, a colony, a gathering. Each citizen is presented the release's offering. Those who decline , are obliterated by the emotion's smite. An inner fascist perpetrating throughout the mindset's control. The home invasion is resisting its morals. This city fears to retaliate though their fury is contending. Aggravation is its previous sprout of evolution. The growth is nourished by plans not occurring as perceived. As the fury of the innocent population continues to be compacted . These cranium streets throb at an impulsive thunder. The supply of sources exceed rapidly amongst a rhythmic beat. They're connections march to the exact pattern. Angst, anguish and contemplation continue to protest the dictator, who currently reigns supreme. The forceful leader begins to become worried which leads him to become weary. His pursuit to manage this community under his guidelines shines reluctantly. The bystanders take note and start constructing their courage. A storm wets the surface, a most natural rain. The people's support strains but is strengthening per effort. Expectations of the peasants, expand per defense mechanism. Our villain's anticipation re-awakens. Armageddon has begun. A spontaneous strike causes a structured realization. We, I, commence.

Youth Post

Surrounded by those revolved around monotony.
There's got to be more to be solved, there's got to be.
I desire the intake of upper tier experience.
It appears my comrade's are delirious, period.
I breath the wolf's breath in a pursuit of my own.
But I believe it's a fools death to pursue alone.
So a compromise is made, a reluctant decision.
A thought inside, a way, an infectant religion.
Forcing the statues to move, irritably acts of sin.
Extorting past dues of youth, considerably fascism.
Blue mirrors if they trust to negotiate.
Too similar, just an unjust ghost away.
Inferior, a lush to not associate.
Figments, as they are surely precise.
Sentiments, dazing, hazing and thirsty in line.
Silence in the corners, their spotlight on the acts.
Violence in order it's not like thoughts are facts.
Housed without a purpose, renowned as worthless.
Found inside a furnace but only crowned shirtless.

Miracle/Endurance

I'm writing this out of hatred and regret. Opportunities were at an unlimited selection. Instead I decided to pass by and make the choices of limitations. Now I'm discontent as if I will be able to re-gain and re-obtain these easily accessible wonders. I wish I was not offered these offerings at such a young age. I was child, I knew of no other correction in choice. The more mistakes I created by intentional accident, the more I came to the realization that these opportunities were descending. Though I still feel the possibility is still possible but now it feels based off of probability. I pray with the knowledge of a God, as he's answered every other prayer I've made. For some reason he never answers this plea of importance. Becoming the dread us what seems to be occurring or so it feels. The worst of it is, that I know I can something about it but I haven't.

Recycle

Sometimes I wish I could hold an unloaded gun to the heads of the ones I despise just to make them panic and suffer fear in it's prime. I wish no harm on anyone as guilt and regret may become a haunting if I was to do so. However, it would be oh so satisfying if I was able to put these people I loathe in a state of terror, watch them beg for life. Never again would they even glance into their thoughts about causing me trouble or discontent.

Maybe I should actually do this, maybe I should avenge myself therefor I will never hold a grudge again. Therefor I will never have a grudge held against me again, then again karma works in obvious ways.

A Parasite at best.

I'm drawing near these shaded black gates.
Opening them, encountering a jaded path way.
The up top moon relieves my suspended vision.
The trail is provoking my calm minds simplistic division.
An answer being a quotient to a state of discontent.
Maintaining my mindset of being sentient.
Within this following I reach the base of a tomb.
A whistle of air teaches me I have been placed inside of a ghostly womb.
I study the stone noticing there is a script that has been written.
It's purpose is to assure it's readers of a hellish precision.
The wind blows harder I've become surrounded.
It appears the guardians have been summoned and sounded.
Watching from the trees as they are now grounded.
Despite my ensemble of fear, I am astounded.
Paralysis and emotional winter coat my body.
The ground has sank from supportive to dryly soggy.
The eyes gaze at me from the forest.
And my armor of courage is by far the poorest.
Racing amongst the leaves is emitted from the trees.
Chasing my soul's disease from what it fearfully sees.
Unlike most fiction I progress to my original basis.
Administering affliction from the sight of their faces.
Despite my terror I find myself feeling enthusiastic.
My confrontation has left the offense confused and spastic.
The crusade to my originality feels boundless.
Until I reach a different and the surroundings become soundless.
Attaining the entrance after an epic in momentum.
Pertaining a restriction in a zone system.
The time took removing the keys from my pocket enlarges.
Onward down the passage the opposition charges.

Konekt

We once all called this a passion, something we dedicated our lives to and now this little thing we called a passion has torn itself apart, as if we never knew one another. Young social conflicts the repitive saying of being spoiled, the key sources of what brought armageddon to what could've been held for generations. It all seemed like there was beyond enough to let these mishaps just pass by and no affections would take place. That ignorance has now brought once unity into complete diversity and sure that's said worldwide but this was something could've stayed united but these pathetic childish disputes, the idiocy of it all has now ruined everything...... never the same.

Abandonment.

Today I awoke with a list of names of once appeared to be lit up when I would previously glance at them for reassurance. As I look at this list now, I've noticed a lot of these lights have burned out and the ones that still appear working are barely burning. I'm tempted to rip this list and toss it behind me as I walk to separate myself from ever confronting a memory of any of those names. It's becoming an illusion, a predicted illusion, one of walking through the world as silent as if there isn't a choice at hand. I've yet to be thrown a reason to keep that folded, old and wrinkled piece of trash I place over my heart like any of the names on that list even want to be in such a position. Betrayal, abandonment, the sight of fading, these are the elements that exterminate the power and energy holding these lights which provide vision inside of my childish unguided mind. Now I roam in an abyss, I just continue on because I don't have the courage to break myself away from this state of feeling strung out so I toss this list and rumage through the world starving.....