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Torture of the Green-Eyed Goddess

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The feel of my synapses bursting … like lightning pulsating from my brain delivering its illusions through my body. Am I eager or frightened for what lies in my future? Destiny only takes you so far. Do I dare to be great? My energy is bound; I can’t feel my own fate. The hunger bellows, feeds and grows with its needs, somber as it heeds its foes.

Yesterday you were intrigued. Today, you’re displeased. Paper white sclera hides the blackest of the mind. Rare color shifting opening wide and surveying … I see you. She smirks, at least she deems unique.

From brain to eyes then back again … is this where the tortured and the troubled find their own? Is this a place I can call my own? In this space where I can breathe … so many stories untold; so many memories to hold. My eyes dilated larger than the concept that is running through my brain. Did you know yellow and blue make green? I couldn’t quite speak straight … straight speak quite couldn’t I’ish.

If love is blind, then hunger is just a matter of taste. I have not yet damned humanity. Damn my lips hurt; you’re so naïve tied up and tangled I’m fried up and mangled. Lose, use, muse, ruse, subterfuge. Your deception is no exception … you adore while I begin to abhor. Mostly yellow cautiously mellow … fills up the tips of tomorrow … but it was only today.

I couldn’t understand the colors they cried but the line was a perfect reflect of my eyes. Mirrors shaking … hands breakin’, when a plane white room is born into a plane white ruin. Loosen up your hands I’m clenching up my fists. It just obstructs my view, looking through this hue. The skin is in; the skin is on; the skin is inspiration. You always seem to bring this degradation … this humiliation. I wear it like a beauty mark, mysteriously pointed dark. Smokey-eyed blurry lark.

Between thought and expression is the malevolence of the soul. Well, the memory’s enough for you and me. Just don’t stop making me remember. ome in close so I can guard your ghosts. So pure our sweet allure fuck, we are so insecure. Can you measure conversation in all three parts: The Trinity-god, sex, and the heart. To her steps, she adds her spring. She ain’t big on dicks or detectives or what they pry; she’s guilty it’s such a crime!

Love turned out not what you thought when you signed up to be a human being: signatures, dotted lines, cross your legs, tease, right your eyes! The language that imprints long after your you’ve gone … and every touch I remember as if it was just one … may your crown of thorns blossom into a slow summer spray … in the shade of my emerald ways … then let them impale and put you where you belong. You with Your facial magnet that pulls at my eyes to bring me to my fate. You don’t want to see the star break the cloud … the sun never shines … it’s just the yellow moon so I’m punching the glass so I can see through. I’m thinking your nuts bitch your fucked up and foolish the beautiful pessimist you can’t resist.

They say that everyone one you meet leads you closer to calling. I’ve met so many people who also know you…. Putting up was never the plan. You’re the undercover lover in this fuck-me-over world; the heart in this half cocked picture. Everything is so obscene I can’t get through this unyielding screen. I’m a comatose commodity for a holy host. Christ, I never knew I could feel this close.

Cowards of the brave world unite, we will all watch them burn tonight, stone cold charm and boyish gestures golden gate collapses on you … London calling you real go-getter… synapses roaring… you’ll never be true. Robotic, psychotic, moronic… flabber jaw strikes again. Sky is falling you, real rape victim … your fingers bend to shape my body. Feel the breath’s familiar beat… palpitate. To see all hope die and then re-create. You don’t want to bet your life on me… you don’t want to bring me to my knees cause if you let me up you might see them bleed. Your just afraid… you’ll end up a fray. Changing lanes in mid-lane. But I don’t mind … sometimes I pointlessly debate. Your palm pirouette… your speech cigarette that kisses my lungs. We don’t want to hurt if we can not bear… you don’t want to change my point of view cause I might see differently from you. You don’t want to cut me down to size cause then we might see eye to eye… with the same vision we might go blind.

Emotion is the language and I’m a loss for words. Round circles in flame formation form a sensation … a pounding pulsation a bleeding pump draining the life into me… blue veins run red through my hands … connect me in networks of hollow prisons choking my cells with oxygen and anxiety … my heart will never shatter, melt, or explode then recombine for you like mercury beads. Awkward sentences without a voice… you can think I’m not an object and I’ll agree but I am also not an instrument for you to play. Color reflected in my marbled eyes you blink back again, half existing in my slideshow mind. We’re made of atoms. You’re so naïve first I’ll whisper then you’ll scream … opposites attract we’re a magnetic team.

But what more can we do but further falsify the truth? You’d better leave now before we waste any more precious youth. A bland job is the only reason most wake … and a hand job is the only friction they can take.


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