Emoting false interventions,

      Sensory falsely rationed inaction idols communicating a remission of action amidst endless excuses never witnessed an unheard heart interpreted achings, Held invisibly back however greatly we've vowed love unto them, Intertwined with lies we only tell each spitefully loved other at the weekends, Half intoxicatedly walking our tongues through ancient barely relevant transcripts pretending to describe our next course of... Nothing, Action comes on New Years and possibly amidst our entombed melancholy on Monday(s) whimsical resolution rarely met, But otherwise... Idle are our greatest inventions of hope and all her subsequent intent!

In lieu of...
Our torn pieces,
Being picked up!

Too uninterestingly vague,

     In our habitual paper like pledge momentarily contorted knees only ever half prayer bent in a whole twisted existence hearted request unto G-d for something beyond an ability to be our own vigilante: Fame is where we're taught the world beyond the tolerated blasphemy invisible estuary beyond any grasp of this world gives a fuck... So we reach!

In lieu of our................

Cold renounced cosmos future,

    An apathetically dealt hand for which we're all to familiar...

In lieu of karma's reformatting,
Another forgotten reincarnation event

Cast(e) benevolently down,

     As uninvited  chameleons of choices epidemic transaction with karma's uninvoked fear, We're lost, Believing the melancholy labyrinthine society is a displacement we'll exist within unditerminately despite our seven untreated and subsequently butterfly from shame's cocoon blossomed crimes hidden from even our own view, Rotting behind past moments we'll not even open ourselves to display.

In lieu...

Strapped tomb nearest unwritten name stone down,

     Beneath the land grave scape gravity of a karma electric chameleon never an S.O.S from behind the muzzle complicit straight sexuality wished upon by others' jacket sent verbally but by confidence of terror's lengthy arm throne of hate chair!

In lieu of our will
Being forecast upon others.

Burn's Haunting Ode Night

Ode from the other side

(Adele cover poem)

In loving memory of…

hello,

it’s the disappearance of me

sorry I’ve left you early

hopefully in your life

I’ve made a difference

even just slightly

from your youth

until…

don’t you fret

the world isn’t breaking

beneath your flight of feet

yet I’m clearly trembling terribly

with a vast expanse of apologies

once again inaudibly reluctant

I’m attempting another hello

merely to say I’m sorry

I can’t be there anymore

not until you reach find me

in this realm of finality

a home for our reuniting

wherein I’ll sing

hello…

once again

hello,

it’s the mirror

not the reality of me

just vapours of memory

shards shimmering in their trembling

reflections of a ghost who can’t reach you

with the magnitude of just how truly sorry

will you always remember this entity

now that I’ve had to depart so early

how great was the impact

an inaudibly verbal hello’s touch

of love’s honesty upon your clarity

 now momentarily tragedy struck life

hopeful mountains yet move

with anticipated greetings

magnitudes of joy

when next…

we meet

just you wait & live with peace

By Juton

(left bank General Manager)

Once Told: Twice Hidden I

Tell my vampire decrepit soul,

     Reborn vintage remorse stories rarely hid their meanings in unfamiliar demon type a anti angelic memories masquerading as lost heart stopped bleeding dreams from this old doomed soul, For we've fallen back into the realities of the oceans which we've witness, Screaming into heaven in an isolated bleak eternity pretending to breath praise cave, We're no spiteful of the shame we've created regretfully hiding in an unexplainable to consciousness imaginary delusional hope past.

In lieu of  hiding,
Just to last... 

Tonight a vintage memory stalking,

       The air inside nearly joy vacant lungs feels like war, Breath cradled in labouring idle fires of curse silent trials, Smoking chalk parade outlined crimes within future demonic intent confines labelled the thriving of blessings in naught but an echo of our buried past... In its purest manifest hate destiny form, In which we've long spitefully forgotten to believe.

In lieu of fighting,
For the momentary 

Falling Isn't Flying II

Ghastly futuristic leaps,

     Inaugurated tolerance and compassion imbued with doubt's vanguard of guilt's strategic removal of equality & perfection from hope in spiteful capacity of notes to remove the remorseful neglect of numbness as it unstitched bleeds from the guiltless as extended in bounds to the holocaust screaming, Run the blind towards an obliteration end, As bombs... Ring as shame we deny inside our heads...

In lieu of our invisibiliarities,
What we hide, exists not...

Falling Isn't Flying I

Pessimistic leaps,

     Inaugurated vanguard of falsified selfish zero integrity wish capacities, Half illegitimately nakedly silent notes only remorse can bleed of guilt extended bounds, Running towards an obliteration of hope's end, As bombs...

In lieu of,
Our great dreamings

A Broken Dial of Dreams III

Reptile eyes

     Dreaming circumferences of frequent doubt over bandaged unresponsive prayers, Frequently left over avidly absent of luck's most priceless karma aid, The haunting has clicked; what doesn't make you stronger... Our most spiteful mirror's blind reflection makes you legitimately held infinite untaken yet last unwitnessed breath want to be no longer aware of this unfulfilled life... dead.

In lieu of our participation in,
Never dreaming beyond the imaginary,
Wealth beyond comfort...
Love without effort...
Parades of confidence

Cast enclave down,

    Habitually ruled by circumstances ever waiting, Swimming as lighting hemisphere of fate, An uninvoked karma electric chameleon dictionary never spoken S.O.S decision writhing as unsent diction attempting to defy its own existence by systematically hiding behind all the corruptable matter it could find!

In lieu of our participation in,
Fighting honesty... Too willingly

A Broken Dial of Dreams II

Eyes seething antidotes, 

     Hauntingly breathe concussions of remorse over bandaged prayers from the depths of the other regretful side, Wherein resides the left spiteful over parts of hallucinations we forgot to wish and they're doomed as we'll never rummage funeral through what we can't see for even the most malignant specimens of a once advocated for vampire's hope or ashen loyalty of a wingless angel's putrid assisted self genocide help, Out from whom both intangible realm's parade of realism exists, But only within our minds phantasmigorically fake yet chronologised slumbering eyes cowardly dreams...?

In lieu,
Of waking... 

A Broken Dial of Dreams I

Taunting guillotine eyes, 

    Breathing concussions of a vampire's remorse, Echoed left fate over parts, As wings from angels they illuminate silent haunt the funeral malignant paraded goals of the great regretful beyond over the edge of hope's bandaged prayers; For us she's still wishing... 

In lieu of falling,
Over edges we're never back from climb?!

What's Chalk... What's Not... II

The piano played the strings,

      A guitar's light infinite house striding in the dark, As a prayer's last remaining finger scraped like vengeance upon vocal drifting silently into nothing's alive noise chords, As if they'd been hiding behind threats, No legitimate love evoked wording one until the aftermath entitled noose has stuck, Celebrated nothing better than infinite 'payer drunkenness worship' like the ignorant magnitude of hopeless world did as she was dying to live past the end...!

In lieu of harboring the fugitive,
Captivating bleakness...!

What's Chalk... What's Not... I

The piano played the guitar,

      As a prayer  upon vocal hybrid mistaken victim identity chords, Hiding behind time chalk consuming threats no officer desired to relive nor witness, Breath drained until her very last gasp under a post script transcribed diction of events irrelevant to what actually happened: She's recorded as screaming in silence into the aftermath's noose or so the report reads...

In lieu of,
Hiding behind comfort,
As those we love,

White Venom Widow

Because I never forget

Everyone has an imprint, a legacy

Thriving in the depths of my memory

On a wall & seemingly invisible,

      Hiding in the closet out of view, Leeching nothing but life from a derelict hope unwanted few, Lost beyond attempt of being renewed, But the Spyder ever deadly will not unto darkness submit, Despite the appearance of a charred black obsidian spite never broke its tomb, This widow will soon be as sinister as new, Residing underneath the wings of your sheets, Gliding as an angelic vampire beneath the sheets as we sleep... Just out of view of the silent funeral for us all.

In lieu of,
The inevitable
XxX

Whatever comes to pass

I still miss you friend! x

The 'White' One...

Jesus rarely wept,

     Like Cthulhu's multiple obsidian ink clouds of deteriorating rain, Intolerantly falling as a hymn for the karma missing upon those who strive by prayer ever vigilant in their pacivity desiring to fly... But unwilling to lift a make illegitimate belief wish to serve anything other than a warrant for their invisible prejudice.

In lieu of our,

Participation in...

Persistent itch,

     Unmeant to scratch, At the skin's annotations simple nothings are crawling but the imagination's afflicted capacity, Mediocracy is the web in which we live. A fundamental alignment of wingless subservience to vampire ruling in the autocratic dark, Their mere echoes afflict our unmistakably bowed by the duress of homage to an unforgivable silent G-d; Bones, By which we make our discouraged means to unfortunately live... A point of infinite view to which we prescribe.

In lieu of...
Participating in: 

White widow,

      Multiple strain of existences lost to the naked view of a single un-imaginary eyed dredge male spider's reflected masculinities in a mentally clairvoyant ill broken by a remnant's holocaust future dark choices... The mirror's drowning hope for anything better than a quarantined lifetime image; This is... Until the revolution or death amidst her drowning.

      Will she devour the hybrid false tangent of hope threaded with death's typical inhumane slut labelled in darkness behind her back: Secret demon grovelling for another infatuated single instance of deviancy at her feet... Or submit endlessly to that which consumes: The desire to strive above: To fight, The definition by which stabilises all yet unto each their own infinite structure of woes is given.

In lieu of...
Men crawling into caves,
Forever.

Too escape the fate...

     Unwholesome black unlight hell landscape late to be let in... The violence has suffocated wrung the life from under your fallen skin, Whatever there was in resistance to win; is but the definition of lost in death.

In lieu of...
Discovery a new Heaven & a new G-d.

Ill alignment,

     Happy inside the church as long as G-d invisibly appears to allow another week's escape, This is the standard first deadly ignorant world dream; No virgins after the terror, There's no need in the slumbering as the world dies west, We're fragile and exhausted as a mob, Defiant in the face of nothing but equality for that which we've yet to define, Especially the gender epidemic or was it race... Who cares; the TV's on anyway...!

In lieu of our investigations,
After the screen's eternally black!

Unhealthy labels,

       Infinite icons advocating lethal complexes granted access by those who display the algorithms of stigmas, Ever willing to define; empowered by the voltage of their lack-ignorant-luster disease, Adoring that which comfort alone prescribes, They are the drones that blindly terrorise!

In lieu of a global lobotomy, 
Awakening the children of sleep,
To acknowledgement...! 

Late by definition,

     Shown the letter; transcript of the devil's advocation for death before birth, Deemed significant time hateful insignificant gradient of sand spec line first, The black parental outcast neglect sheep & unworthy of saving... Yet despite the malignant potency of will against surviving, Here you stand.

In lieu of...
Walking against all grains!

Doom,

      Itching at the heart, Throbbing between the bones accidental yet too awakened late to be unmade, Death's potential woven by dice toss between the practitioner's sheets!

Each Distant Year...!

Ritual days,

      Wake to appease, Fit the appearance, Sleep in the drowning absence of dreams, Just to ease... Walk through the hideous faceless gossip damaged unpleasantness, Brought on by the gifting of fractured debt inconclusive hopefulness, About a future you'll never conclusively see, In actual goodness of facts it's been sinking since you embraced this path... 

      Once again the forte of cleverness ekes insidiously in, You're never supposed to be... Like them, Living under a tide of greed instead of obtaining daily the abundance of more loving eyes, In sober moments; there's regret...

In lieu of our participation in,
Sleep dredge of the hive; walking