what do i say about this??
Its a pure thought on the flank of mind. it arises it dissipates but its never supressed.
The smell of dirt, the grave relentlessly cries,
To witness the hollow souls laid alive.
They mimic, they re fragile but immortal.
No blood no pale emotions to revive.
The syllables that never echoed the skies.
Such was thy existence tortured in filth of lie.
From gadgets to lumbar and back game.
Encompassed and stuffed they plead never again.
Some stay abreast, some parallel, some spook.
Filthy deeds, bastardy emotions wern't amongst fluke.
Purposeful, exact, it was sin infact.
Chasing them erasing them, i knew things we lacked.
How can he swallow the spark the spark that rages his conscience.
Only to presume that the ashes magnetise.
Once they were dense, stubborn, now fumes arise.
Jeopardised he sobs in hallucination of his ugly divine.
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