DEVIL MAY CARE

  

Well It's everyone who actually looks at this sites lucky day... Not only am I gonna give all of you a bunch of previews of brand new works but I've also found and finally decide to release some old stuff thats pretty... Controversial... ;)

This is and Older one I found

DEVIL May CArE

I'm Inside Your Head

Vol. 1

I'm inside your Head!!! Breathing and singing from your sleep and warring with my flame in the day. For one second look beyond your brokenhearted dissolution and remember to choke. As if choking on the words weren't enough, you have to blind us with mediocrity. The spinning and the crying turn into screams and the voice you hear is bringing you to a terrible demise. Why can't I get away from you with all your bullshit and self-induced melancholic lies! Self-pity bringing you down to a whole new low.

The compositional feigning is just ridiculous at this late hour. But your ever changing want is flaming to the ever changing point. Can you still hear my Voice inside your head?! If so then stop acting juxtapose to your own reflection of what you wish you could be! Cautious warnings are for the faint of heart. This is a f*****g Promise! Stop being so goddamn pretentious about what you are! You can't tell your a*s from your own hand! What you make is s**t! How could you be disgraceful enough to even have the thought? You're like an Atom! A motherfucking Atom!

Can you hear me? Fluttering through your memories like a long lost thought that will never reappear? Slideshows of tormented grief empty out my empathy and leave me with a few more things to say. Crossed into the shape of butterflies, your silence stays golden in mine eye. Scarlet Stains the blackened violent thoughts through our head. The crimson flows into the emptiness. Sweet scarlet pools fill the abyss in our mind and caress the emptiness of our condition. You recreant muse, what do you think is the key? The overwhelming hidden hex to fulfill the awesomely negative ether in your improbably tainted disillusioned essence?

The truth of the matter is you were never in control... The voices block all golden hope to your thoughts... The overwhelming sense of hopelessness emerges into the blackness and the folly begins to taint it all!

NOW YOU'RE INSIDE MY HEAD!!!

DEVIL-MAY-CARE

Quelling my natural psychotropic theme of regret, my inhibitions lead me to despair. Running in circles is tantamount to my subjective raising of the Dead. Spilling into pools of shadows maybe I can reconvene to some sort of falling out. Spilling into puddles of sorrow... The glyphs of times passed brush my ill-gotten gains creating a wave of discomfort through my core.

Dripping and bleeding down through the hollow cracks in my center, my mindless self-indulgence begins to take control. The raindrops sing as they fall and smash into the world, showing not how they are such a miracle of the ignored. The Black, The clothes, The intellectual hierarchy only shows that you really don't understand anything that you aren't yourself.

Do you know the answers to the questions I want to know? Those hidden truths that you find, oh so, invaluable? Does it even scratch one word into your essence? Bring forth some type of primordial questioning? To think with feeling and not intellect is the one thing you could never understand. I know that you wonder yourself if you're even capable of feeling anything anymore?

The blankness chloroforms it all into the bleached out gray that seeps out from pillared scarlet smoke stacks that eminate from my emblazoned crimson eyes. Recreant misuse of the tiny amount of the pure blue light within us all diminishes us to be nothing but the never finished melancholic sonnet brought forth by the wretched. The unrealizing way of us as a people don't fall upon deaf ears. But the screams of the ones below have not been heard by us. And to think we dare call ourselves advanced. It all mutilates us in our unpopulated scorn of divine light.

We are the crudely populated generation in the grips of extortion by the hands of those who held the world before us. The Angel hierarchy fall in sequence to tune of our dying hearts. Bright blackly lit wings and reflections of gold armor that were our excuses fly down past us all.

Reviews

[Raven Starhawk]

Such a blessed feast you have here for my eyes to gaze upon. I am loving your story telling skills.