Nobodys

surrounded by thoughts of refusal.

Where's the drive, where's the ignition?

Brain, argues.

How is it that it seems like i care for someone else more than myself.

How is it that i just don't care.

I want to know the answers but i don't have the will to find out.

I'd like to know who's that at my door but my body is glued to the floor.

My hair falls out.

The grey spreads thin.

A conscious being of being conscious within.

The thoughts of true mediation.

The point of false relation.

The joke of perception.

The worlds correction.

The leader no longer leads.

The peoples mouths bleed of stupidity.

The true warriors gone.

The tech war on.

The fascist state.

The trapezial mind rape.

The recognitioned fate.

The lustrous superficial black-male date.

The interpretor shot.

The days where all see eye to eye gone.

The corporational thieves.

The capitalistic greed.

A world built on the so called America.

Deep in our constitution, the right to bare arms.

The capital world built perfectly.

Born to be sedentary.

No revolutions, no causes just.

Just human greed and lust.

The curves of our legislature.

The stupid waves of citizens.

The difference in monarchy.

The field of hierarchy.

The place where we die.

The beginnings end.

The lie behind it all.

To protect the bruises when we fall.

The clash of clad pasts and the darwinian exposure.

The home of the brave and land of the free.

You people are sucking the life out of me,

The lies, the curious endeavors.

The checks that bounce.

The quality of your soul.

The character of your kindness.

Everybody rude, nobody gets it.

The capital world wants you to forget it.

We die, we cry, we lie, and nothing happens.

We breath, we'eve eyes, we live and nothing happens.

The stuttering thought of air waves.

The beached whales, that's suicide.

They choose when to die.

The tangent slipping.

Micromanagement gripping.

The minds appalled.

The world beautiful, if only we weren't we, it could still be.

The effort lost for our selfish need.

sclera. 2/19/10

An already tired soul

Heart reduce to coal

Skin that of leather

Eyes crazed like weather

Fall often Springs

The giant nomadical phone rings

Your head contemplating

Everything, irritating

Pure of heart instigating

Cold now never relating

Time coming to a close

People your own foes

hate, hate, hated

wait, wait, weighted

Lost and found.

Picture with words. Third floor.

I've got a real passion for this stuff. wrote this today in english and didn't get caught. I like this new style I've started, its like taking a breath of the freshest air after hopping out of a shower. No matter the setting, as long as I can paint it and have people see it in their own way through my words then that makes my technique and writing style complete. I'm not saying this is a new writing style, just saying that I like using it.

I don't know what I'm thinking.

Constant attack.

Dirt, my past recollective.

My mind feeble, my heart weak.

White noise clouds my voice.

The center of the screen black.

The sun rise, shadows hollow like wind.

The power of light moves my hair ever so slightly.

The couch I waste away on.

The seams broken, my skin pale.

My eyes wonder with doubt, tracing the outline of shadows.

Bags full, my chest heavy, hands weak.

Eye brows waved, the darkness dilated.

Shirt stained, flies curious.

Suede shoes gleam to the right.

The light although bright, my shoes tattered.

Many miles in the past, my pant legs wet with disaster.

The fences I've climbed, the walls I've scaled.

My shoes, barbed wire, my body failed.

This couch once seated three.

The only cushion on it now is me.

My eyes dry with sorrow.

Skin, dirt holds my scabs together as my scabs hold me.

My skin tight, scars never mending.

My past, these thoughts never ending.

The grass outside, yellow and pale as I am.

weeds flourish, seeds contradict the blue sky.

Heat waves swallow the white fluff.

The disastrous flower carried across the street.

My eyes, my eyes, blood thick painted across them.

White noise screams at my body.

The light withers away.

eyes closed, blood no longer running.

body white, the sun glows.

curtains wide, my heart disposed.

Forever my last sunset, shadows cast.

The only life i ever lived, done at last.

Second floor.

For people, what people, who people, see.

As if something has changed inside of me.

I'm mad and mad at the same time.

to only be mad means to outwardly express.

which, i don't.

I can't.

but lately, i can.

The embers that are my heart have only burned to ashes.

wind roars through my body.

Cynicism.

Cynical.

A cynic is what i feel myself becoming.

Worthless, life to me now, the meaning is truly changing.

My meaning is truly changing.

How could i change so much.

Hope to hopeless.

As if there's two sides of me now.

There's me and everything i stand for.

Then there's me who questions everything i stand for.

I question reality, i question, faith, i question gravity, i question life, i question steel, i question sight, i question priests, i question oil, i question fact, i question opinion, i question childhood, i question your mind, your past.

I question how karma doesn't exist, why life purposefully has no meaning, why it is our responsibility to live.

The only thing i truly enjoy beyond belief, is sleep.

Silence. There's nothing to achieve, there's nothing to believe.

There's nothing.

I enjoy living nothing, does this mean i enjoy not living?

52 button panel. first floor.

Meet the world, meet me.

Greet the people, greet me.

Sing with me, dance with me.

Let me serenade you.

Notes, soft like air, kiss at your ear.

Your soul glowing, your face an apple red.

Your smile as cute as can be.

Eyes as deep as ever, so beautiful.

Meet me, meet the world.

Greet me, greet people.

Dance with me, sing with me.

Let me serenade you.

bound with thorns.

The mist, the hue, the rain.

The judge of a sentence.

Forced repentance.

The out line of your character.

Drawn to life scale.

To peal your self from reality.

The rain, sleet, it's hail.

Formed, shapes of mass. Calculated, measured cast.

Your vessel, theatric. The story vast.

Though pages drag on through curious journeys.

Wrinkled and soaked. the book torn.

Lifes travels, narrative lost, thrown away.

The book pleading and begging, screaming.

Tossed from the highest cliff.

Into the deepest river.

It sits now bound and written.

On a rock it waits.

A cellphone, messages from another generation.

Walkie-talkies spoken to, messages received.

The book found years later a man cannot believe.

Though, the pages are empty, ink wiped away.

At the back of the book a picture of whom.

Transition, transition.

A man dies to save his loved ones.

A son gone mad, a mother committed suicide.

A daughter home, raising a boy of three alone.

A fathers wishes turned to hell.

his death for nothing. A boy now 24.

His sister, cancer took.

This boy lives on.

His father an author.

The last book missing, gone.

Alone he finds the satisfaction.

Alone he finds his drive.

Alone he does it all.

Yellow, sands of time wave through the air.

The stars of night blind me as I stare.

Too late to read, closing the book to say.

"I think this is all I can handle for the day".

Walking home I listen to the grass whistle and the wind sing.

I pay close attention to nothing and enjoy my being.

Cold air sweeps the sweat from my pores.

A delightful chill cruses through my veins.

A smile glistens as I close my eyes.

Footsteps my own, rocks beneath my souls.

A slight trip, my eyes open and towards home.

The house, two stories. White as snow.

One light on, the kitchen glows.

My hand reaches for the door, the smell caressing my neck.

The Fire lunging at me, the smoke fills my lungs.

I awake on the floor dieing, crawling.

My eyes blood shot, body in shock.

Smoke creeping under the door.

My fate sealed, I cannot move.

I close my eyes and look at the stars.

I breathe deep to end my suffering.

Tar, build up in my lungs.

The heat wrapping itself around me.

Suffocating, I pass out as if thrown into space.

The building burns to the floor.

The place 'non'-existent.

Hugging my only pillow I weep. It rains, I've no home. Cold, my face wet. City, as forgiving as god yet as terrifying as death.

No home, no eyes, no body. Rest.

one eye calling.

Justification, the cause to meaning means to give definition.

Pixel shaded dust screams passed before me.

The colors ringing loud, " Black and white."

White noise hisses beneath my skull.

The water blue, only my eyes above.

castles raised, clouds falling.

Lead, white, faces drowning.

Heavy rain presses on the soul.

Walking, sluggish mode hints at deprivation.

Windows shallow, hidden stories fold.

Explosions of grey.

Beautiful fields of grass, you run and fall.

A grass hopper at your nose.

A smile, generosity, it hops away.

The clay you've mashed and stoved.

It is the world you bare and hold.

Much like the speaker at your drum.

It molds you to move, physically, mentally.

Distracts you, distracts the insanity.

The feeling of calm and collective.

Self medication and protected.

Pain. Frustrations only cure.

The cuts, the scrapes, the bruises.

To keep sane, we all do this.

For pain to resolve your emotional issue.

Enjoyment means madness but to know what helps is self medication.

Layers of belief rule the morals you behold.

Justification. You are taught how to justify.

After this we recognize on our own.

Some seek, some die, some speak, others lie.

The mind, like a grid, plains never ending.

Plots everywhere, memory access, always pending.

As if someone wants to take the seat out from under me. Never sitting still, can't trust the world. Always ready to stand, too ready to fight.

No path, no host.

Falling prey to the traps of my mind.

To suborn my life through decline.

Words are easily spoken, actions condemning.

Morals upside down, i think i might go back to what im suppose to be use to.

To use, to use, does not mean abuse.

Life lived, life breathed, pain.

How, now, brown, cow?

To who, you, a few, which knew?

As simple as the chicken pocks rewinding comes backward clocks.

Ridiculous, sulfurace, instantaneous recollection.

Melting floors, robbers run, winners die.

Planes crash, swimmers swim, and people get high.

Wavy, lazy, flammable, Inflammable, Ha!

To fire set my hand, blue flames like dust.

Wishes, wells, water, rust.

The constitutional right to lust.

The choice, not free, to perceive, not me.

No clouds in thine eyes for this smoke makes me see.

How, now, brown, cow, what does this mean to me.

Pathologically redeemed, the stress, it seemed.

Ceiling gone, feeling gone, eyes wide as the doors of heaven.

Golden gates black and wavy eyes stoned.

Body dead, life passed, smile here, frown there.

Cold air breathes between the house, body missing.

Plad days run through hazel rays of blight.

The ruins of what was could only be who is.

Through these eyes, missing the stress free environment.

A laugh now, a smile slapped across the face, " how ignorant ".

Tears fly like F1 Bombers.

People pass under in fear. Nothing happens.

Crows land, crows land.

I'm awake, " Hello, my name is Casey "

My mind.

Medows of thick darkness.

Clouds plague the sea.

Rainstorms fight wind currents unbeknown to me.

Green leafs and summer storms.

Blue sky's yet dust is prominent.

Mirrors reflect, subconscious dominant.

Fear storming the houses of the free.

Killing the used and weak for ransom.

All for a fee a hell bent handsome.

Rain drops off ruble, mud curious.

Faces soaked in blood, doors see through.

A man to his left, " concealment not cover, they can see you"!

Another dead body hits the floor.

What is it that we have to learn to win this war?

sundays

Childhood in my back seat, the trunk full of lego's

Tool box to my right see, people waving hello's

Sad and sorry it's all i've ever been

eyes blinded, mind reminded full of past memories

Me jumping off bridges hanging with my dad

Driving away eyes full of tears

Brain screaming through thoughts of past years

Choked up not blinking trying to see the road can't stop thinking

How years fly by with hello's and goodbyes

Childhoods gone living life ahead. and to believe i once thought i'd be better off dead.

Stuck in between parallels of walls that go on forever waiting to realize that nothing will come by and pick me up, never.
The years of intolerance are over. I know now what i couldn't believe then.

Wake up, un fuse with the somatization realize reality and all it's realizations.

I'm the only one holding my hand and right now im about to drop you

the cliff too high, the cliff too high.