neon247

Androgynous one, Forcasted default hero, Forgive us for love.

The sweet smelling flower That enraptures the very centre of thine fine visage, Is none other than the crown That slumbers softly over each fragrent, Fragmented utterance, Individually encapsulating your cloud defeating, Borderless glow. Rending and repairing in as many sylables. Azure breathless perfection, In singular Could steal your gaze for a lifetime, In Parralel You are destroyed and eternity is shortened to a heartbeat, Threatening to puncture the chest of all who travel these deep waters. Temples of folded delight record all memories that trickle blissfully forward In hope and reverence for the secrets of love held w

Lost lust belates my oblivian into star salt, Rare and magnanimous. Bile enveloped in gloom, Tinted with photo negative venom, Covered in human. The cracked portrait screams from the corner, Too loud for ghosts to see a fault. They are forbidden the scars. Caress my broken soul with oil slick tears, Cure me with death, Love me with poison, Run your fingers through my veins and tear out my conscious longing.

Smokey irrelevant sleep fleeing from my closed eyes. I am the shadow cast by your ghost. A mirror of all sadness. Your apparition is a fleeting echo that i scarcely remember recording. Heartache's clear blood pooling in the black of my eyes. Only recalling now that my shadow casts no person.

This is our back-alley cartilage abuse nightmare. This is their freedom leaking from abyss black eyes while we suckle at the smoke-stack teat. - The deafening decadence of our self-professed victory Walks our children down roads paved in coal and bones, Past the neon church, Back into the barbed-wire womb. Would you still kiss the tank when shes old and grey? She wears that gun-metal lipstick just for you. How radient she looks Awash in the scarlet sweat of war. - ~Lets get this cancer party started. - Zeus is bowling over Basra, Apollo is painting the night sky in hollow-points And im pretty sure Haphaestus designed the pen t

In memory of the hole where i lay myself to rest. Burning in my skull are the ideals of beasts and saints. To be this beyond me is nothing short of epiphany. So unlike the girls that scream on the carousel, So unlike the killer robots voraciously topping up their oil, For the adventure and the spoils. Let me scream down your house, Let me piss on your flatscreen eyes, For i despise organised lunacy and revile all false idols. So speak up, I cant hear you, The hiss is way too loud. This hole i drilled may save me still from brain pressure and the cowards way out. Its no big secret, Your father's ghost works a desk-job in hell.

Temptation's fate, Subtle fear, Silver taste, Pure, unadulterated confusion. Typical tones, Crying, Crying more, Savouring defeat, Destroying hope, Exploding a generation. Enfeebling power, Gain versus loss, Misconceptions, Fables and dreams. Death and dying. Seek, Search, Divine, Encounter, Harbour, Hold, Keep, Stay, Be. For all the sadness, Defects, Torment, Terror, Happiness. This, Us, You, Me, Mine, Ours. Radical destruction, Birth, Chaos, Eternity, Freedom, Infinity. Strive, Create, Incinerate, Foil, Ascend. Infinity. Infinity.

you picked your bones from my face and collected them in a corner of static which we would call every night just to listen to weather (they) turned or not with our necks being the only thing we have in common -a house with nothing in it but walls.

a window pane, invisible upon the artwork of ears force field so much greener stood so starkly stairway wit paints our afternoons jamais vu, the nature of a four cornered room a crocheted box of convenience and there’s no choice of what the words would be like as a melody, with a beat behind my teeth the weight of a silence, assailed, pressed against your cheek for the sake

In reds and greys the world was colored, an eclectic expressionist slash of art that defied most modern conventions. Wild and wanton and avant-garde, the pretty-skinned flock of glittering girls exhumed from Forgotten a story: Heaven was once a pile of faded lace and paper flowers. It was a misty, velvet expanse clothed in candle wax and brass. In that place, he was the shard of a shattered star. With ice in his eyes and a Dali smile, he took me by the hand and hid his heart of darkness… “The riotous white yawn of winter passed with a violent exhalation,” he said, “And in its wake the silence came. In its wake came wave

Just so you know Last night I fell asleep on the wrong side of a tin can telephone. Waiting for a responce that I am sure will never come. But I'd had a little too much nyquill and hoping didn't seem like such a shame. Especially with his tshirt wrapped around my head. Because I don't want to miss him anymore. It's easy to pretend he's laying next to me, when all I can smell is Axe and cigarettes.

we taught our grace to fly, and it taught us to stay tethered to our dreams in a frightful way like leaves do to branches

Everything will be alright, won't it? You can't promise me anything, can you? The sun has set, and all that's left is darkness. Somehow, I can see fine. Spectral hands caress my face. They promised it'd be alright. Terror in chemicals. Watch it all melt away. The clock ticks backwards and I know I'm lost. Sweat it all out. Feels like a roller coaster. Deterred by irrelevent fear. Gender euphoria haunts me quietly. Blood drips from an unconcious mind. Floating trapezoids. He said I ought to be a closet pervert. I won't change who I am for you. Speaking of closets, Maynard lived in hers. He lead the men's choir. A field beyong the gate. Tell me