I sing an asthenic story
built on the coy of chivy
go ahead! flack then buy me!
hands by a spate of ivy!
for every 2 seconds sunk and light
50 fold the privation steps my plight
my eyes change colors; the chameleon sees
the world through fingers; 5 filter trees
there\'s a hook in my back encrusted with mud
I wake up and swing till the ink feels good
with this tender grip of balance I rot
forgery fucks passion, by makeshift thought
heartless? i\'m as cold as you\'ve made me
point in the mirror, i\'m this world\'s ice baby
porcelain gift, of deviant folly
wrapped in words of blaspheme drolly
the more I love the more I hate
t
\"Twelve months I\'ve been in this cesspool. Did I earn it? Might just be a step up from the real world. All things go in cycles. We\'re born from a grotesque prison into Hell, and from the agony, I plotted my way back into captivity. I can\'t take it any longer..it\'s about time ends meet.\"
\"One more dry, moldy, slice of this shit and I\'m gonna' spill someone! Ack, there I go again. It\'s stupidity that fuels the worst in me. My knuckles bruise on the walls of hatred for such things. I\'ve been in here too damn long, and I don\'t expect solitary for what I\'ve done will end any time soon. You blur to crazy in the demon's crib! An insuran
If I could feel the gravel with my scales
I know I\'d gently let it wither all
and if I could just see down wind
I'd surely poise before the crawl
their mantle; it bickers, as if I would care
weighed with, these wishes; I'm drinking my share
my gift as a crypt, from my veins gone uproot, and I branch and I be as the script- you can't read, on the wall shown in front, of this seed-not-growing
my body lethargic
my emotions gone docile
this charity prospect
has fondled me hostile
I've gone waiting, for nothing
turned away from all I want
striving, and whining
for fear of my own brunt
so what if my lettuce, has a side of steak?
w
The little one sits, pleasant to all
when his bully steps close, he hears the call
it\'s unclear, but tickles his reserve
and notions, you\'re gonna get what you deserve
so now he sits by a more contempt endeaver
and they can\'t reach him, not now, not ever!
no more pencils, no more books..
no more teacher\'s dirty looks..
no more friends within a fist..
because one day..you got pissed
down once again, how can he continue?
a rage held back, bled out just a few!
raised stern faced, dawning a smile
in turn what\'s delt out
put the world on trial!
pain forgotten in a turn away?
shimmer of gun, \"its time to play!\"
behold the
Wrap me up that your hack can\'t soak
make me golden to just one
cradle me white from their poke
take ten knives to your son
I\'m the closet jewel of smile\'s tool
toggle my mirth and revel the mule
I yearn the kine so clear as mine
-own allows, my bowells, so silt fine
bi-fucked and gloss divine!
we\'re all so pressed and neat
weathered but-silky damned
inside-I can\'t age complete!
I-cannot-yield my breath and soul
if-to-fabricate the prideful knoll
in these walls, transparent as me
blurred-past the virtue to see
closet malign!
patriot vine!
find me I\'m fine!
fuck all the kine!
your emetic mist canes my discourse!
c
Chapter 2 Masterpiece Planted by komodai, literature
Literature
Chapter 2 Masterpiece Planted
Ch2 of Counting Feathers
\"The holiest of water is far quickest turned putrid. But vomit into the pool of nihilism that the world is made, and they\'ll step around it. Look into the soul of the wax son, and feel the daft wrath of his breaking.\"
"An artist and poet of life\'s vivid extremes, the man, Gabriel Malign fell broken and empty without reaching his goals; his obsessions; his gift not fitting its package; this vibrant trinket unsettled in its wrapping. For months I, Dr. Daniel Jennings have been studying and making notes trying to dissect the course of action that became a tangent, from his turning point of infidelity. With cooperat
Chapter 3 Bittersweet Canvas by komodai, literature
Literature
Chapter 3 Bittersweet Canvas
\"She became a bloody mess. It was my American Dream; a beautiful, butchered lamb on the floor. Shards of red, white, and blue coated my thirsty tunnel vision, and it spun begging more.\"
\"I still remember the first time, Jennings; with my wonderful girlfriend Dawn. With Ms. Frost nothing mattered outside a capsule seating two. I had never felt anything like this before; never done anything of such. Eventually you just know it is the right time to move to the next level of what is going through your mind. My virgin palms trembled in tension. Was it the right thing to do? Looking back, I have to question the significance of such a thought. D
And my steps inside
a diamond rose
so peddle soft
it just may bear your name
of my world and in my hand
between a crease i could stand
breathing blood to abate the mud
I curled with the ease of rand
my tracks won\'t admit my name
I raised before I heard the shot
bristling calm a word a cane
raising a king to charm the plot
beyond death I only hold tighter
and think on her for the brighter
a hole in my heart my sea reserved
keeping me quilted when perturbed
she\'s a heave up the thinning rope
beaten alive on the slickest slope
leather crust, honey dipped soul
scratched and unbroken, an arrow of hope
lain again on my dear