passive-contagious

The field grows wildly with ripe garden pests i dreamed of dying here in view of these yellow eyes. plucked from fabricated lawns to maintain the perfect look of fresh green fertility now retreat from garden tools granting wishes in their own destruction and clever reproduction ingenious really to make us think so i know better(i wish anyways)

who are you to calculate and judge you can build yourself up on the very lowest of standards but dont think anything of tearing me down. we all live in your distorted microcosm dragged kicking and screaming because its for our own ultimate good you are a self made enlightened despot. you suck energy from the most thirsty of apendages suck till its dried up another essence for you to display. there is a canker in that soul of yours you devoured empathy and selfless understanding where you always so self righteous or only since i came around?

my deapest fears where realised when i looked into your furthest caverns and saw a tomorow i just am not prepared to face but can taist as if just around the bend what a trap i peer into to love forever and settle into a path when my feet are to tired to walk and such would prove a trip. you intoxicate me with your intense emotion and i struggle to hold my idealogies in your wake i find myself clinging to strings praying to be washed away, and holding tighter at the thought the undergrowth of indicision takes root in my skin i grow ripe with its poisons, and i spread them to you this hunger has no mercy, not even for me i c

Sitting on a forgotten book shelf i look out upon the dusty planes. Baren figures stand resolutely. I can see their desperate twitches, like that of dreaming children. But they remain held in place by pride. I too find myself unable to move, held down by the many pages i've accumulated over years of anxious preparation. I thought the words written on their faces would protect me. I've written on my own face too, as to try and --------- myself. Wanderers and tourists alike have come across my make shift guise and read what i have scribbled in haste. They flip through me but every page is from differnt story. I make for poor entertainmen

i went away, for a little while never thought i could come back i dragged myself through the mire of my mind tried to escape its grasp i fought the poisons off and struggled across deep winter lines i made it past my darkest self and left the bitter void i sat there in the sun celebrating an epic victory i planned to create a new kind of world so many things to do! i noticed then the amputation of my hands i left them behind in my haste never thought how crippled it would leave me i stay here as half a person unable to progress i go to retrieve my other half should i bother coming back

Madness is cannible as is humanity world an open sore excuse for profanity morals instilled by force a society to eradicate you feed us your refuse you violate with touch how long before we choke we can only swallow so much.  

once i could have fallen into you and never have resurfaced. because once i believed in you and once in myself. i saw whimsy and beautiful heterodox faitalism had forgotten me and you where my existentialist diety with no use for the usual mascarade once i thought misery was just a dream and you'd always be there to chase it away because you always promised me and once i trusted you we where so excusite in our youth no room malice or ugliness in our minds beauty was highest order, you'd say but you grew stagnent