I'm ready...A Poem by Apparition
Don't force course words from between cursed lips
I dispurse flirting remarks, make you embark on versed trips Impart and surf waves of time space displayed like an array of spider webs for the mind to contemplate Im going to excavate so you can elevate let the melody relieve your mind from this hellish state, it's a hell of a ride your a space cadet, not yet embraced to take off without his metal case Now your in deep space engrained in every wavelength and frame of time This is my state of mind, I am divine like the dude with the body bleeding wine I'm lying, I'm a demon spillin semen killin vermon with my sperm and changing the presidential term to o years, I pour fears into ears of clear minded seers who rear back in fear from the message that they hear At first unclear because its monumental, not distracting or detracting like the instrumental but a single sentence evoked from my below my dentals I love you, I am you. I can fly through the sky to the moon and you can to, I can't stand you I hate you, because I hate myself, but wait I'm sick of hate, I'm sick of getting wasted man that bullshit doesnt help So I will split the atom into bits and fragments break them down to fractal patterns man I'm talking living mathematics, perfection, inception now my mind can see the answer to the questions Love, be grateful, and f**k being hateful, I'd rather feel the bass and be glad I feel the bass and be glad to have a body and a mind inside the place called earth, I can breathe and feel joy and feel hurt, I can be me physically or literally the reverse, If I choose, If i'm ready, If this s**t is heady or I blow up like a bouncing betty, Maybe I'll just let it be Choose to loose the game and stay here like a masochist soul, f**k that I'm done I don't want to bear the toll, I'm ready for your help!
© 2011 Apparition |
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Added on October 9, 2010 Last Updated on January 19, 2011 AuthorApparitionfive thousand two hundred and eighty away from wavesAboutI am an apparition, a ghost in the system, the host's no longer the victim, the parasite grows weary of the barely alive flesh dressed in a hardly harrowing death caressed mess, stressful doesn't trul.. more..Writing
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