A Po'Ethics Collaboration.
Black=Deviate
Dark Red=Sharp.
Reflections Of Fiction.
Shadowed by the looming stature of past achievements,
Paralysis extends its scythe through my limbs - No appeasement.
Limp shoes numb my footsteps as I drift across the pine floor,
Distant squeaks echo from the depths of feet as they implore...
Intense weight of postulation provokes the process of creation,
Through the intoxicating smell of the antique furniture's deterioration.
Erratic eyes shudder focusing on the crisp awards hung precariously,
Surpass the peak of conceptualization... Brain twitches painfully.
"My veins shoot blood into my eyes as I endure on the desert of a ghost's black heart.
A million human faces ricochet off my bare skin as they're hurled by the violent wind.
They convulsively laugh at me and whisper disgustingly aberrant lies into my ears.
I strive on with my chest out. I am the genius of God, I am the pride of the Satan."
Violently etching my voice across the elegant parchment,
Scrawling through the mirror of mental department.
Clouds of ink dilute the liquid life that drips onto the page,
Rouge formations discolor black before my eyes as if from rage.
Humble surroundings strained under the emanating disillusion,
Conflicting thoughts deflected by the remaining shreds of illusion.
Soul ripping at the forced doorway vandalized in my finger,
Plasma dips through the passages without time to linger.
“I make my way through the sands and discover pyramids of skulls and ravaged bodies.
Expressions flutter off their craniums like a hand swiping away an irritating housefly.
The base is a dark crimson and the pinnacle is white as if the blood was wiped clean.
It bleeds, it thumps, it lives. I can feel the cold blood soak my feet as it runs. “
The paper-cut expands into a gash until the finger drops,
A spasmodic rupture to my leg evokes toe-nail pops.
Curious somatic sensations snake through my veins,
Guiding the pain, flooding their way... Comfort I feign.
Comprehension of the world, of true emotion evokes expulsion,
The explosive demotion of my active brain to passive emulsion.
Abhorrent words spray from the lively structure wetting the pen,
Streaking red words accentuated by splatters of grammar...The end?
“The wet sand fills the space between my toes as if I was strolling down a shore.
A sick stench of a thousand hospitals so potent that I grow light-headed.
The wind ceases and I dig through the bones of my loved ones,
Nestling between my mother and my lover to rest, I wake.”
Violent gushes of life reduced to droplets seep as I fall,
From behind the page, I watch my kin weep as I scrawl.
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