…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.