Losing all will, a struggle in coherency.
Posing challenges to test focus,
Searching for instincts that outweigh sanity,
Forging wastelands from snake-skin,
Canvassing the earth for plots unsown,
The wretched are magnetized by the memory of what I’ll mean to them,
Their sockets surge as the stagnancy increases,
Amassing friction through the syncopation of strung out perceptions,
While awaiting the resurrection, they’ll carry flowers to an empty tomb,
And all those blissful fragments will converge,
While I watch strangers in black, mourning their deepest loss,
Floating away on damaged wings,
I waltz away with a girl I’ve yet to meet,
A woman so full of spirit, easily able to play her role
And in such a way, she teaches me you can live the hereafter here and now,
Castrating aside all semblance of sensibility, she breathes the dancing in so deep,
Then from those lips, dead now an hour, a second chance should be cherished,
This condition, this path I’m on:
Can wear you thin,
Corrodes away any trace of solace,
Inserting pessimism were once lived hope,
Consumes the will and incubates ghosts,
Even still she shades it all in such a tolerable hue.
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