by Bryce Alden
This one's almost like a story. If you think of it as a comic book it makes sense.
|You tried to just come into my life when I had already died,
I saw that you had snuck into my line and was trying to hide,
in a world full of scared people,
I am merely paranoid,
caustic and auspicious dissolvents the only solvents are which? Our own souls.
And to which we wonder,
a night for every sunder,
and the red ship gleams,
And while undertaken along,
off on the undertakers song,
it's where the devil lies, my tone.
And which to is wondered,
unto which shoulders are sundered,
and life will rain pale from the pail.
And if you eat its sides,
the center it just might,
collapse in onto itself.
So you go eat the fruit,
from the soul if me and while wondering to which ever,
wonder why sunglasses could ever be needed.
Which, the sun is too bright,
for the ship which is my body,
to have this ever lasting life,
for me and really for most of society.
My rivers do run red,
with the blood metaphorically.
I open my eyes to let light shine in.
My brain goes reverse and yet nobody knows.
While everything goes white and nobody asks why.
Assistant to a kill, and kill your will,
to which, wonder what a world is.
And on that gregorian branch,
you are placed precariously high,
don't you think of what a world is.
For it would save you, then,
is summoned in the air,
perhaps it is too hard but,
it is something to land on.
And when it crosses your mind,
it will invert that finds,
then maybe peace may come unto you.
But if you cloak your garb,
with others clothes,
I will never know your true color.
Mystical presence of beauty is always felt,
while the beasts saliva and hot breath on her neck.
And yes it went to bite,
as if turned into a vampire by night,
and then I swiftly tore it to the ground...