How Many Left

How Many Left



Abandoned, shut down, forgotten the old ways,
Say this and don't make a sound, the languages of the new day.

You dress your words in make up, doesn't pretty the tone still,
I guess we can make up, if you try I bet they will.
Buildings are hide outs, from the pain the blood spills,
Sure they can join us, Positive they will be killed.

We sang in front of bonfires. Blowing echoe into hollow bottles, our voices living briefly in an eternity controlled by the wind. Listen closely and you can the hear the moans of our shaken souls being released into chaos. The ocean scene is  obscene still waving to the on-lookers unafraid of their contempt. Disdain shall have his day but for now it is exempt. Slowly reaching through the sands of time we prance on to bring us down, our mind wavering like waves we bathe in hoping to get dirtier, glowing with a brightness the moths huddle around but dare not get to close. This is danger. This is not fun.

They look on as if an execution was being held. The fire raging compliments the environment, seeing as so quickly characters flicker however the action is becoming all to familiar. The ocean calms and becomes a mirror to those who can't recognise their faces. Splashing the waves hoping to shatter the image demonstrates character guilt, looking away demonstrates fear. Would they look away from this vivd reality? Truly recognising the inability to cope with anxiety excites the flame when our voices blow from all directions creating a rage; leaving no secret to the imagination deliberately showcasing the vanity behind it is not vanity, but an opportunity to disrupt vanity with actions orgasmic. Reaching pinnacles unheard of as they look before their new religion! A God has awoken.

A new breed has arisen from the catacombs of generational hierarchy. From the ashes of the flames the sand has joined with holds disdain down by its neck. And what do you know? No more spectators. Truly amusing that they flee from what they cannot comprehend, then preach acceptance as if its widely accepted. Scold my proclamations when many Gods are praised, inviting another conflict into action. Oh how contradictions are practiced. How hypocrites are beloved. How the honest are shamed. What has this world come to?