A place for evoking dark poetry and other comforts

Consciousness and it’s prevalent drawbacks

Remnants of Me

I’m just a shiftless dreamer
 When i  slip and fall
 the walls congeal to catch me
 Whilist these delusions become real
 holding hands with masochistic lovers
 Which had to be left behind
I found her sighing in the corner
Purloining quarters from the blind
my lady forever so unkind
my lady cutting in the quarantine line
shes never seen my shrine
Not of gods sacred garden
not of stone temple pilots
or heartless jargon
Ashes of me  cascade
As the incredibly ugly pervade
Sensibilities that easily tire
as I swirl over lurid pyres
 
 
 
Vore Space://  Another word jumble I wish to share…enjoy
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Today marKs Eight

Forgive me if I stutter
Butterflies perhaps this time
or do you cause my heart to flutter
Where must we draw the line?
 
For I am the one who keeps
Mister death stashed in his pocket
and under the tyrannous stars I sleep
With you safe in my locket
 
Because like you I was once broken
Like you cradled by the furnace
heavy emotions rendered verboten
The result of such sternness
 
You and I both know; however
There’s something magical in falling
A hand that guides our endeavors
A heart that adheres to your calling
 
As I  am forever yours in time
When you cross the sacred line
 
 
Vore Space :// I Hope that EAst of eden theRe are beasTs WHitering tO death.