Dimmed Demise

Photo: Deviant Art

The depths of death creep in my mind. My mind is enslaved and I’m enclaved to the thought of my mental demise. Today is not to be disguised — must recognize. The issue is you, it’s me. I believe it cost to breathe, I used to believe it was lost and free, but there’s a fee for it all. Lost at sea and no one to call. The system is designed for me to fall-fail, but I prevail against hell and overcome; there’s no excuse. There’s an end to all worldly comings, so what’s the use? Call a truce between myself and Lucifer. I’m lucidly expressing my words quite candidly — being all that the world demands of me even when people aboandoned me.

Introspective thoughts keep me from being introduced to people — less seduced by a sequel and a return to a social situation which is never equal.

A dart sharp enough to cut through the divide of my mental darkness is cathartic. Tactics to grab this blur to blurb out production.

I’m hopeless, I smoke less but I’m focused. Drawn out of motion and drawn in emotion — I drown in an ocean where my frown is more open. Close the casket of the bastard who never lasted in the world.

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