Illegal Passion

Illegal Passion

In a moment contrast, the fact that lips meet beneath two, unspoken contracts, lust is outwardly a known reality, oh how it seems that passion knows no morality, and love is ya stomach drunken on a balance beam, Residing deep with me, are sheets and screams, that shriek and dream, in a vow of secrecy. It eats at me, but in a steep belief I know its only to keep the peace, so I dare not speak/release the inner thoughts of a demons sheath.  Insane it has claimed, untamed is it’s reign, and all I accept, for a loving breast to lay my mane. Beneath the gloss of tender lips, a slender kiss, starts a spiral of sin and bliss, we never meant it, so tender lips stay sealed so contracts stay never dented, in the same moment the demon’s life, is spread through nails mean with might, down the angels back, a dentin-ing scratch resembling that of Jesus Christ, gleams of light, convey motions of society, Illegal penetration con notates their emotions just entirely, toes and fist grip closed holding in anxiety, with final screams this team is crafting, dreams that happen in a fiending fashion, as their Life see heights they would never reach with out illegal passion….

Dedicated

Jocelynn Evangelina

Jocelynn…. I am So sorry….

I’ve been contemplating, pacing, feeling broken now-a-days yo,feel like im going crazy, so lately i just lay low, hoping you don’t hate me, as I walk around my way slow, seeing lots of strollers, who’s babies rockin hats…. while my baby’s got a halo….

I know you hear me…

Your mom and I have become, nothing more than empty threats and broken words, we’re not together, and I know it’s my fault… just as much as she knows it’s hers. She claims its a lot of things, that … well maybe we wasn’t worth, but I cant help weeping, about the baby, the woman, the lady you never were. I’ve been shaking, lost you and your mother so close to each other, the timing aches me, start to think I could’t do it, it’s kinda shaky, then seeing little seany everyday just drives me crazy. A family of three, you, her, and me, and just a small house, God that would of been suitable, We’d of done your room, pick out your clothes, and ..and, omg you would of been of beautiful. Talent, intellegence, and depth like no other, eyes of a goddess, with the beauty and strength of your mother, haha it would take the whole world just to tame you, and we stare and just think, that my baby’s an angel… heh yea….. my baby’s an angel ….

I think a part of us honestly died, I teared up so much, I wish I’d of done more to move her, I honestly tried.. but not nearly enough…. and now your gone…

Your resting above us now, hundreds of feet, but I don’t want you to watch over us, your mothers doing me wrong, and I her, and I don’t want you to see, I’m sorry baby, it just up and occured, we still love you even if i mean nothing to her, listen… what happens a mess, and its killing me, feeling sapped and distressed, but I love what you stood for, and if it wasn’t for the fear of never moving on, I walk around with a JE Tat on my chest.

On my heart, this has been the hardest, most heavy thing, to think, my baby I wanted to so much, has a harp and feathered wings, I’ll never see you, never kiss you soft, or hear you sing, never hold you, watch you on the seesaw or see you swing, to be someone you can look up to, pick you up when you fall, or be your king…

But…. why?

Mirror Talk (Features Darah)

:::Mirror Talk:::

Honesty is a bleak remembrance of our faults and flaws, a minor glimpse into the souls of man, the bounds of which often fall upon deaf ears, confounded in our minds, thus revealed only to ourselves, so we fall into the shallows of our insecurities…

    Subjected to failed embraces, we digress inside, and face the mirror on a daily basis, confessions tie into frail encasements, that we call lives, then stride on guided by a sail of hatred…

Darah: I fear weakness, so i change myself, in order to fight it off. At the same time tapping into my loved ones’ lack of faith in me. I find myself disappointing at every turn. Not unwilling, but unable to change even the most minuscule vulnerability. I reach for the ever unattainable goal of perfection. Only to be denied, again and again, by my harsh reality. My only hope is a complete 180 turn from this unsatisfactory being…. into the ideal me.

Steven: I fear strength, the morbid eclipse of humanity, escape of eternal suffering, leading to loneliness. The wisdom of a celestial judge, an omnipotent consciousness, incapable of equality, an arrogance leading to the abandonment of love. So I lie… I feign suffering and emotion, to the degree that the cold aspects of a cruel and detestable world, fall into an almost robotic sequence of events… and then I find myself, yet again, in control. My only hope is a complete 180 turn from this unsatisfactory persona…. into the ideal me.

    When persecuted with personal demons, the relinquishment of that anxiety is often inconceivable. We stand as one with an emergency, surround by men and women of a foreign tongue…

Darah: I only want the best for him. I know now that it isn’t me, but why does he detest me so? like a sickness he must avoid, he quarantines himself from me. Telling me he’d rather not speak to me when all I can recall is him telling me how he loves me so much. I’m confused. Why wouldn’t he want the best for me?

Steven: I feel I’ve lost the best of me. I despise her ignorance, her laughable gesture of innocence, sickens me. A plague of deceive, she dismisses all personal wrong doing. I cannot feed into it, shelter myself, she no longer deserves to know my pain.  I do not see happiness in her smile, only a lack of tears, and remorse for the loss of our love. Her time is spent changing, reinventing, growing apart from the one that I loved, and all I can do is lay helpless, recalling the months I spent telling her how I loved her so much. I’m confused. Is she truly better off without me? Perhaps fading away, was really what was best for her.

Lives twist into a spiral of masks, our self confinement dictates our losses and binds us to a wasteland of mental toxins.  The explanation behind our answer less self destruction is simple… mirrors cannot respond……….

Trapped

Trapped….

Stressed-out-awkward-regretful
Have you ever wanted to let something go
But your heart wouldn’t let you

Somthing that kills you, haunts you, eats you
Consumes your thoughts and now your sleep too
And that somthing, fiends you, lives you, breathes you
Loves you
Leaves you……

I feel trapped – I am trapped
You don’t know the feeling
Because I am not confined, See No One Wants Me
The room I’m trapped in, has no walls to hold the ceiling

Theres just a pillar in the middle
And I hold on to it quick
Made of past promises and emotions
That likly no longer exist

…………………………………………………………..

Love is a Bladed Boomerang
When you seek fun you throw it
When ever you throw a boomerang
The only thing on your mind, is if its coming back to you
And when it does, it will cut you, deeply, sharp and with right
However you will never be so happy to be wounded in your life.

The Sun is in My Eyes But I Can’t See the Light

As People Walk by…

They comment on fumes, raising from my body, of vomit and puke, toxin induced content, from constant abuse, obnoxiously spewed, in any direction, on any object that moves. They are shrewd, infections are crude, so I cringe for a while, body stretches and moves, begging for syringe or a bottle,  feeling injured and hollow,  been pilfered, all while, I struggle to count how many pills that I swallowed…

…..no idea…im scared…

Feeling twisted, stunned, hurt-famished, with damaged ribs and sunburnt-abs, and acid just, passing through, my lungs main passages, jolting this untamed masochist, convulsions halting , my mundane actions when,  im stunned-collapsing, from this fucking crack again, this unlucky havoc bent, tragedy, just keeps fuckin happening…

I’m on concrete, by a bin for garbage, alleyway, next to twin apartments. Alarmed when, my memories thin and foggy, an ungodly mix is within my body,  i’m on my back, feeling pinned, and hardly, aware, of the shit thats on me, lost my car keys and don’t know why taunts, are etched into my skin with sharpies…

The drugs have crumbled my mind, hundreds of times, I cry at night when I try to fight and I stumble inside, I’ll be overdosing soon, corrosive wounds, have me bleeding to death, suns beating down heating my flesh, and humbles my pride. My veins run rancid in my cockiness, and to family all this is obvious, I fumble with lies,  I can feel the pace of my breath switchin,  so now this face covered in stubble will cry, cause its about that time, to get my next fix in…

Love

Heh, Love

How can such a popular topic, produce such comical nonsense?
Honest, it’s become such typical lingo,
despicable, true love is enough to make you wish you were single.
Mingle, and hide around with a fresh face,
Flesh laid, pressed, paved out on the bed made, caressed,
and forced to lie about it the next day.

On one hand I have love that is potent, humble, subtle and broken,
From distrust that won’t crumble or open.
Disturbed and unholy, is how I feel, un-nurtured and phony,
Disgusted, the reason she prefers to be lonely.
Uncertain she holds me, as even a person, who’s hurting and folding,
From the thought this love, is held by me only.

On the other hand, I have love that is true, full bloomed, held by a heart,
Masterless, uncertain whom its love belongs too.
I am grateful for love, I lay, your voice in my ear, devastated and crushed,
Such a crime, your not mine, so ungrateful for lust.
Distaste and distrust, has left us useless, stressed, confused, abusive,
Power to set things right, not the strength to use it.

Undisputable

Simply better than you….

Inserted, into this world as a wordsmith damned, assertive, converged with a serpent clan, the verdict, a person with nerve implants, merged with the verses of earth and sand, delivered in cursive, so perfect, the service of a surgeons hands…

Impeccable…

A conceptual demon, perfection in thesis, deviant, intellectual genius, a lion, scheming with infectious bereavements, of iron, leaving the same effect as anemics, inspired, by my own sexual achievements, and more con traversal then the complexion of Jesus…

Just Because…

A little bit of everything, just cause I can.

[Religious Stab]
A new aged Jesus….

Beneath my feet oceans tremble, soldiers left cold, exposed from metal, decomposing in open medows. A puppet master, a bastard, whos souls’ been settled, on back roads, masked/clothed, and covered in black robes, a level, where monsters face depletion, a concious is a heathon, run up and stab the Pontiff for the nonsense he’s unleashing…

[Political/Industrial Stab]
Now a Days…

We are entertained by the vicarious, lead by these barbarians, fed what they’ve prepared for us, slept where we’ve paired, and then, wept for those who cared for us, bled for those whose scaring us, with the threats that we’ve bearing, a mess is what we’re staring at, scared, the anomosity of us dreamers, will rise with the the lack of veracity of our leaders….

[Fuck It]
Hahahahahaha

Undoubtably the best in a bout, uncontested, confessed to being blessed and endowed, ’slept with Edipus’ mother’, then spit in his face, like what the fuck were you ‘obsessing about’! A creature, a preacher, the fiendish type! The depleter of beseechers, you screem at night, while you now ‘hug a note’ since I ‘Princess Peach’d’ your wife!

Hate Over Love

Hate
Over
Love

Love made me weak, I wouldn’t Sleep for Days.
Love wouldn’t let me eat, I couldn’t Breathe or Pray.
Love Broke my heart, Love destroyed my plans.
Love took my mother from me, Cause she Loved her man.

Love lied to my face, Love spit on my Pride.
Love cried through my eyes, Love ripped me Inside.
Love left me alone… with no one to hug me at night.
I gave my life to my Loved one, and Love stole the only Love of my life.

Hate made me Stong, Let me Dream at night.
Hate Fed my cause, Gave me the Steam to Fight.
Hate closed my heart, opened my eyes to see.
Hate let me stand alone, made me to dispise the weak.

Hate is honest and blunt, Hate has nothing to hide.
Hate hardened my soul, made me morbid inside.
Hate brought me to terms with myself, no longer worthless or faint.
Hate gave me purpose, hate the purpose it gave, but i’ll exist even if my only purpose is hate.

At The Right Hand of…

 

Afloat the globe, I sit on a canopy, where I gloat and boast, of my gift of insanity, stay cloaked and toned as I spit on humanity…

Such vanity, amidst the saddest twist, insisted by such causalities…
The Devils Advocate, a savage shift, in beliefs that seem imaginative…
Analysis, shows powerlessness, when clouded, faith, shall lead to cowardice…
Announce to all, thy battles- quit, surrender and Doubt shall be thy catalyst…

Eternal assistance, stern and infernal, proves your existence-malignant, ephemeral…
The Christians insistent, their scripts are inherent, are shown a deterrent, and are quickly capricious…
Now their hardened and malicious, thy martyrs are eclipsed in, the Father’s lies, that now lye slaughtered in the distance…
Thy art has been unclogged, having been starved in synagogues we feast now upon the hearts of the partisans of God…

The heartless, I’ve etched my soul, onto a parchment, sparked it, and watched the smoke float into the darkness….