Anger consumes My brain/body/limbs/whim.
But only turns Into pain/hurt/sorrow.
A tear dries up my soul; leaving my inside, un w-hole...
Gaping.
Self inflicted sensory deprivation, I Fear of never escaping.
The immediate an' Present danger being: Devastation...
to
My brain/body/limbs/whim.
So I retreat into the salt encrusted hole ; that which was once my heart.
Am I now safely hidden from defeat?
PLEASE < HEAR MY SHOUTS! All I ask, for one to try; and tell me...
How do I outwit this fear of peril?
{" I wonder, does she realize, the one who needs try, is she, this whole while? "}
My temptation to feel conflicts with apprehensions I have to heal...
{" be vulnerable ..."}
To willingly LET myself be subjected to societies embedded fallacies.
My built in wrath against the "non-conformist conformism", puts me in jeopardy.
Should I retreat into my salt encrusted hole?
Or face and endure this worlds indistinguishable illusions... compositions of symphonies of disillusion... Called by the majority: Reality.
Anger consumes My brain/body/limbs/whim.
So i charm the Boa
that Constricts,
and we become a part of one,
as I wear her around my neck.
We coexist.
~The unrequited thoughts of others
I wonder... Has humanity really been extinguished from her being, entirely? Can one be affected to such an extent, that we, as a society, could mold this individual, hour by hour; it's been embedded as deeply as would it seems emanates the pain from whence she speaks? Relational would contradict any intangible undefined fear could produce any sane minded to create a conditioned mental striation. Causing such to retort into ossified disdain, nearly viscous in its livid dibbling... Now that is sickening, look at the quivering weak... does she even realize? The one who needs try, only be but she?... Oh please, I can no longer expose my eyes to its verbose displays or cries filled with fictitious pithy insight. I rue in which we may finally rid mankind of these despised, while we abide inferiors linger...
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