top of page

It Almost Was A Seance

wilky said it best the characters enter and everytime they enter it goes like this


deet doot deet deet doot deet sipping on a snail's shell slipping on the tar brush


forgot what it was i was even going to say it is almost as if it is all in a picture frame


the endlessness of time to waste and how to make the most of it lost thoughts fall


away like a diamond at the center place of the sand caving in, perspective of the


hourglass from above the surface of the face the mirror hand swept before becomes


enveloping madness things lost in the abyss everytime a distance every distance a


timeless sentence complexities clocked in both ways the same, it spins where the


sand falls through the floor in bigger circles now the room drawn out the chalk laid


down the salt spilled the crucifixes, up or down, will it be silver or gold will it be eyes


spread gutted promise me this focused depth within each conversation forgiveness


I am far from it and further away than hands could grasp a sonnet for the destruction


here once more only for complete disillusionment better oft left to drawers hidden


light escaping to forge on through & through wherefore unto each and one, who are


you, what shall it be then the conversation to be made complete, tonguing cheek


these riddling things, where are we to go to just be, where is it someplace to believe


silence as the grand epiphany and lust for to live by, the mind, wants out, are you down


take me to where it is you want to go right it is nowhere gives and find all to be circumfrance


radiant abundance where is it we shall find it then one more place to meet againe one


more dusk to break the dawn one more note to finish the song for the songstress please


nightengale please all of this useless meandering tearing at the seams tearing apart the


mind it bleeds through the eyes beautiful they are in disguise beautiful they are in the light


beneath the night sky beneath the sight the consciousness it flies toward goodbye to war


good night good fellow good futures endeavor could not find a more bitter hand to play


could not find I in the field of man what it is to want to be somewhere again with someone


find the past and dig a trench bury the morning in a song you hate it sounds good for a


moment and then the moment wasted the sound in haste drifts away from the mind it made


what it is to be creation creating itself creating creations to laugh at time in the glass spun


spinning like the diamond, is it without or within, dropped through the hatch unto Death


standing between the doorways oft found again, hand against the wind, just for to feel


the vast expanse of nothingness at the precipice of life to begin once more, furthermore



Recent Posts

See All

The Hourglass

Point A Needle To The Sky, Centered Minds Point A Gun To My Head, Circumstantial Ends Point A : The Diamond Sutra, Centrifical Forces Yet There Are One Thousand Arms Tied Up In The Book Of The Dead An

T E L L M E

never was there such a hand beneath the sin play to the part of the devil's grinning twas there such a death as to it

Commentaires


bottom of page