If life is an infinite collection of moments, Then the vase of memory has shattered in to pieces. Every one of my breathes, became a vortex across my oceans. Started a tide, a wave, perhaps a tsunami. How could one, be similar to another, If we do not even know if we see the same colors? We use words, we use labels, For our destinations and our fables, But do you even know, What created you? In this world, seconds stretch for eternity, Minutes inspire revolutions, Images scar our armor. We are a canvas of fire, struck by the match of moments. How could we ever be one word, if we are a book of life? How could we ever be an image, a star, if we are a galaxy, at heart? The sun sets in a planet of mind, my eyes are blue with ambition. The moon falls in the damage of my sky, my eyes are red with aggression. I do not know who I am, but my soul is alive with the essence. Comfort in chaos, a grasp that we are gruesome, Endless ascension. Think without words, you are as limitless as the skies you wonder about, Demented Dimensions.
0 Comments
I am a vortex of pain,
The God of trauma, The entity, of nightmares. My mind attempts murder, And it is dimensional assassination. Troubling demons of hatred, Curb stop my own soul. I chase love, inspiration, passion, But it is rivaled, By the army constructed through the power of reality. I plead, for safety escape, But I am rattling the bars of my cage, Roaring at the universe. The truth, lies in the lava of agony, In which is the only meadow for my soul to rest in, As it melts my serenity. Without freedom, I will die. Fuck this world, I chase the sky, But it is, Control, Denied If the world was in my grasp,
It would be a fist full of power, Because my veins are pumping ash, Of the knowledge I’ve devoured. Strength in elevation, I find a dimension in expansion, One where there is no hatred, Just a direction in madness. If the world was in my grasp, My brothers and sisters would be struck by lightning, Of the love for themselves, they crash, In to the magic of enlightenment. Disperses between my knuckles, In to all that is beyond, And to all that are buckled, To darkness’s bomb. If the world was in my grasp, It would detonate in revolution. If the world was in my grasp, it would be nothing but knowledge, Revenge, sex, & music. |
AuthorDaniel Buccafusca Archives
May 2021
|