Malefic Condescension : Beginning of Black

If the world,

     Began with a thing... Surely it was an impressive spawn of Our Father outside of Time's linear appearance sworn diligence oath's reunion with power, Consciousness lingering in the forgetful void, Where all is obsidian no sheep's white pretend wool black for opaque is but a blotch of grey thoughts staining the jet caption of onyx smeared across His sedated conscience!

     Vast polar cosmos sleeping beyond our moments in the forever expanse outlined by the circular algorithm logic of every side of faith's greatest treasures and all their protests upon our sandcastle eternally peace extinction threatened universe, Because to some... Lives dedicated to a debate is more important than the unending Mother Dying Battle Earth Field's nearly all attention diverted unto loss of universal never yet found equality.

In earnest anticipation of,

Rag Libel Doll I

Dearest Lover, 

     What a beautiful rag libel doll of conviction's aspiring hope we have made, Together under the tree of li(f)e's shame, Her double you & I gold self ever present marionette D.N.A heat of purposeful gold, A historical multiple slavery trafficked source pariah, Reincarnated is our Aggelos, She  Brings to the union of our slimy one night in forever's covert stand against darkness unto completion.

     She is the realization of all my life's intel, An amalgamation of the gorgeous overcoming will; set cerberus upon the beautiful insecurities that consume the sum of this black austerity cursed epidermis sheep's communion of vile holocaust reappearing ethereal saint fears!

     Counselling swollen haemorrhaging lines swirling inside the trapped contingency of doubt grotesquely protected within the trinity of self's faith lost head, To follow the heart off my chest's tattooed sleeve into inescapable, too much to say...Tears!

     For each cob droplet woven web one, Architect of her eulogy spoken, I have justification!

     For the pulsing adage palace of her few - joy of my life - faint hour dismay stained earthly memory ache glass realm of existence will never be published... 

     But by this unqualified poetic jest... 

In earnest anticipation of,
                                    Nothing is worse, I am living my own worst lost of life fears...

Malefic Condescension: Architect in Ruins I

Congealing intellectual,

Crystal hammer forged hand me down goddess arbiter of faith, Heart of fate replaced by toxic irrelevant every malignant day lethargic greed expressions, Nurtured by a terminally unsighted accepting cancerous vision of the swollen epidermis social cocoon belly of consent unto cost blind effective lies,Socially Evaporated! Displaying amnesty vital suicide eulogy signs to the world on Death's bed abyss side monitor, Root dropping unnaturally under pulse ground where the ghost worms of the white life theft tunnel dwell, At the edge of it all...

In earnest anticipation of,

If Your Masculinity Believes: A Spoken Word Podcast

On Yappie

Her... II

When the last,

     Toast of a recent hopeful fate discovered glass inner black cosmos in a bottle eye never human witnessed message is read by the ghosts of fireflies, Attempting to whole life heart of everything force translate the solitary apparition long vanished man's isolated mouldy paper pathetic love psalm event, An ode to a love infinite life distance blood lost.

     Then, at the edge of an oblivion ice shattered glass melted down apocalypse day like every beautiful moth insecurities other, the translated diction will speak of acceptance's grand conjuring, From a single wraith soul's dying functionality organ; compassion's empathetic imagination engine, How the Elysium stolen muse that inspired love's 'until the finality requiem do us part' unqualified mediocre artificially spell woven reincarnated Shakespeare, Her indefinite physical epidermis phantom imprint on his life exhilarated courage to pretend that anything he wrote... Mattered, even a minute wee bit.

      Thusly amidst the host of transformed yet allure still held in disfigured cyber mechanized demon shells, Once captivating mythical fire angelic flies whose paper clipped in prayer folded vane memory ache half swollen hands were fed to the augmented CPU human pyre at the end of the terminal conflict, The decoded Lord of Files articulately hell's fury unholy interpreted  the humanity equilibrium intent directive held in the holocaust post anorexic skeletal main hard frame hand wired drive attached via chains of life to the anti miscreant hero's bullet slit wrist, For in truthfulness not even the greatest of villains survived the entirety battle of sandcastle fallen war captured earth!

      
     The above was derived from a single line: Glass inner bottle eye discovered message, inspired by Her...

      And yet, as I close my eyes to dream this night, there is never a smidgen of complain on my well furrowed brow, Contemplating the universe and wrapping it in vernacular metaphor, For she... Her, I mean, is my muse! Expounding my creativity her awareness of the two once individuals known as us who've digitally nerd united to become one.

In earnest anticipation of,

H.E.R

 What comes of a protagonist in love?

 Let me show you, lest I die in the morrow,

So begins a weaving adventure of words,

Pictures of enthroned memories

from the heart of a malignant hero

Glass inner bottle eye discovered message,

    Ghost self appraised courage heart embedded underneath the defiant skin that is my sleeve, Written upon the walls of me! The momentum of this letter is for my other half, that walks beside me, sharing my shadow, down the strange lands of this beautiful sad falling sandcastle earth. You see, she is my best everything! How could I ever just say friend, there are scars in those misplaced words, she is the most significantly heroic circumferences of the coin that is I, the me that I am...

    What comes of a protagonist in love? Let me show you!

      So I write, but could never fathomably describe the contentment of my existence with the sea skin shores of her body lying, walking... Cycling next to mine in this most too often solitary life of mirror attempted atonement, we rarely ever achieve the courage to persuade ourselves to confidence, yet I... Found mine in just one, for she believes in the hymns flowing out misplaced from the depths of creativity. So I love... Her.

In earnest anticipation of,

The Little Things : Vow

Only a handful,

     Of oaths ever make it... But the disavowed still retain their amnesty towards hope...

In earnest anticipation of,