…Falling Dead, the Perfect Death…

…Falling Dead, the Perfect Death…
By jariah

Wishing lines dined down from the stars and rights are given scripted and distant, licking the day with welpish sanity, I love the thoughts of their deaths, licking the walls of their tortured spirits, and I am open all day every hour because I had the audacity to try and be free even though I licked the lands with ignorant breaths of deaths dismantled core, hydroponically fixated upon the autopsy, to see just how his mind would work, his mind is bathed in silence so I adopt a pose to hover more near the doors of his tomorrow and like Jacob and the angle, I wrestle with death to win a post pardoned inebriation, dined upon dying hours, dying with the thoughts, of his walking waking curse, I hover over these thoughts with pale implications, blinding the minds of many and the minds of man, and somebody guides these thoughts towards the pale denials and if anybody can it would be you, the death of tomorrow the borrowed hours, the seconds that hover holy, the minds that stare adjacent, the day in its boxes, the weary ways of somebody glaring unholy, at the laws of fabricated fantasy, I lick the denials of justice with weary eyes and watch as another chance is dined upon and theoretically imposed to form justice, I love the thoughts of you laying down bleeding, hovering over hardly holy theories and I would give my life to see these things transpire, a soul I have to hover more, half given dark the other lays partial white like the lights that dine upon the breathes that maybe she can save me, but I look around and see nothing to save, nothing but the distant thoughts of borrowed temptations, resurrections and pale incarnations, licking carnations, marking the day down as a success, borrowed blades take him away and dine upon his dying hour, wishing with this sacred smile, sacred that I traveled far and bound the hearts of time, all things where taken and I felt fear, fear that I could not overcome, fear of falling fear of dying, somebody has to pull these hearts from the fabricated identities, hover with my insecurities, daily denials, and I bended knee before the world and this I ask, with given calves.

…Held Unholy…

…Held Unholy…
By jariah

Hardly holy minds are living the lives again, dancing around with smiles for the masses, I added the theories of daily independence vs. the lives that are spent, hovering near the doors of distant worlds, wishing that these lives were given something other than the pale thoughts of some gifted door of freedom, wishing for racism to end, while I line these deaths upon the walls of freedom and I wish for death most days, most days my mind is recluse an scary and the drugs I take rake the eyes of these torn and fabricated realities, hoping that some form of justice is given, a stop and go, hover more, lick the lines of these pale coins that dine upon the governed minds of many, governed through their own theoretical minds and I missed the torn and bound dream state of these bleeding lines that lick the holy wars of the past, and I’m given like a calf to the fires of day, and down upon the worldly bathed in silences, are the hardly bathed in breaths and I’m allowed the same freedoms of the torn through dreaming minds and there is nothing I could, nothing I could have done, nothing that would have freed me without bathing these dying days, dying with the welpish sanities, given cruelties and I feel the rape of Persephone every day with every breath, and I look towards the heavens nightly with death on my mind, death of these dined upon denials of logic, death for the fabricated realities that hover near the doors of my theoretical palace, mirrored by the thoughts of man, screaming I lay down with lava flowing from my mouth, like a dream to hold the holy hearts again, I line the days with sanity after all you have taken from me, thieved realities and blurry states of mind, I hold nothing that I am as holy.

A Halo

…A Halo…
By jaria

Father angle, bound with needles, lost in the system, I know you as well bleed through hoping to see her free, although this is my disease, I breath for more than one mouth, and brought so many hearts to your cloud, lightning strikes down, and forms into many more, I was a gentle storm, a lounging victim and was not here sooner because of my being bound in the beginning, by the hands of another man, now I walk through these days breathing blades, breathing gray, hearts are dying in madness, in this world full of damage, and the gifts you’ve given are more than Christian, feeding minds that glide through life in the gutters, cuffs for those who feel their lives are governed, living the lives like a cousin, sins include throwing rocks at the government recluse, and apparent, I blind the minds with sunsets and drive through naked, feeling like my life was sold and taken by the highest bidder, now I live like scissors for misery, bleary jungle bound swans, dive down into the ground, hounds attached to my lines, finding nothing more than bound to boards denials, I live like a candle, romance surrounds me like Romans battling Egyptians and the theoretical battle wages on, and there is no peace, yet I fail to fall far from an apple trees feet, I’m torn through and dying, with my eyes set on the horizon, hoping that tomorrow I will have enough to buy my freedom, from this misery that is around my Eden, if not, ill continue to try, letting arrows fly, hanging on the roots of these tribes, finding peace is the same as the east, and with a halo laying at my feet.