Tornadoes devoured by man-made Ophanim Floods halted by stalwart defenders, corporeal and spiritual Earthquakes erased by diamond-laced beasts, tiny and giant Deaths wrapped in love, gratitude, and motivation We've captured static and placed it in miniature canyons to Purify the noise, relinquishing whatever nightmare had been Blossoming in our emerald fissures Shadows attempt to suffocate the light above our sanctum, yet They fail and fall-- fall back down to the surface of the rotten firmament; We are far too full of injustice to let such turpitude destroy these Love-linked homes and fantasy-shrouded meadows Any voids that come this way will be met with staggering sunshine, Vanquishing all misery that smirks on the horizon It's natural to feel like hope is hiding
Venturesome heart in a world of cages Crimson flagons repainted by Eucharists Blazonry inverting flaming darkness Light scurries across grassy graveyards to vex the power-hungry Spirit-eaters, abolishing widespread aphonia-- a jabot falls from The hornets' nest like a chunk of a meretricious house crashing into The lake that the owner has been polluting for profit and time Your ethereality beckons fairies from limbo, creating a battalion of Misjudged warriors; countless tyrants have suffered crippling blows to Their egos', adorning our homes in their beautiful shame A plethora of prisms floating at differing speeds while Tranquility blooms: your greatest art piece, your most perfect melody Thank you for never letting go of that fragment of your childhood
Another fragment of a bygone man sent to a stranger Memories ignored like repetitive advertisements Perfectly suitable machine sold out of immaturity I've always been last on the list, expected to create a city out of scraps; I'm given debris, then silently told to juxtapose it with the dirt of Abused children and forgotten adults Questions with answers that make my angels vomit-- I turn hatred into frames for pictures that were never taken, Rarely thought about, and always too far from the future I often fantasize about being with those who should have been my family
There's a strange kind of air that's been frollicking since The weeds infested the ancient technology When truth teetered on the eye of a titanium needle, Signs of sickness meandered under the cracked glass The umbrage failed to keep eyes dry Then a sudden obnubilation coveted validation It was too much like... Tampering with dark matter Filling volcanoes with dead dragons Gnawing on clouds before they become tornados Silencing lions wrapped in barbed wire Feeding homunculi to sleepy nymphs Vomiting elegies during a secret wedding Collecting righteous lies Tarnishing vivacious corruption Belittling pious apostates Mixing religions with secular fingers Strangling the last Basilisk Nullifying a Selkie's spell Purifying Longinus' lance Interrupting Metatron's prayer But each hiatus sounds like wyverns convulsing That's not what was written on the ceiling This is not how any spirit should die By using the soft sediment, the end will be Launched far into the future Unspoken
A hulking tower of insecurities is as real as a Razor-thin doll of ill-informed innocence The double-blue dodecahedron that's rarely kissed Tempestuous illusions cackling in the tears of muscle tendons Prodigality devouring the health of those who taste stability Sullen souls questioning the filigree in their blessed lives' Conjectures pleasured with stares from brides and grooms The fear of unshakable loneliness Hatred doesn't discriminate; an irony that we place at the Entrances' of temples, wrapped in neon foliage as if to keep The meek from learning how to mature When a vixen struggles to accept the flesh, compassion floods Her cluttered sky-- just how it should be When a casanova curses his catalyst, the audience is evenly split; Those who feel the crippling weight of traditionalism and those who Endorse his destruction through various breeds of verbal sewage-- Ignoring physical limits, laughing at disabilities, and shouting at the Void like a semi-pacifistic wyvern