As seen before in a dream
I awaken to the sound of the door
The eyes of a woman
Capture all movement
And infect me with a nervous quiver
No words spoken through her lips
A sarcastic grin told the thoughts
For one second as she crept
I saw my reflection from a glin

Handed black flowers
Lined with dead moss
They release the pungent stench of disease
Scorched by the sun
Decayed to ashes
Animated sleeves of despair

But with each chapter
We learn much more
But it brings us closer to the end

Edge burned photos
They sh

In the dawn of dark skies, a painting of mist spread amongst the air, colored
leaves die and then abandon their origin. Flowerless aroma and roots with no
chance, earth wisked away by winds of ignorance. A portrait of blindness we
all possess, and then the all important clock begins

Nights I lay awake hopelessly thinking of this place.
The more I think, the
less I want to know.
It seemed like before this never used to happen.
I guess
it's proclaimed to be over the representation of time on paper.
Pen strokes
mark away and with every letter, a new

The finest minds never think alike
Always a conflict of interest
Behold they come together as one
It's a revolution that has started
We nurture buried in the underground
A place where your rules don't apply
Thieves crooks the criminal minded
A breed they would never w

Standing with a slight slant, the head seemed to be twisted on just right.
Collared shirt and tie. presentable to who, I don't know. A smile stretched
across the face with puppet strings holding each side up. My head fills with
images of old horror films. A smile stretched across the

Subject to liability you say, well at least it was worth it to see your head
sliced in half like a tomato. Roots sewn by your blood and then nurtured
through your kisses. Crawling themselves effortlessly through my skin
manifesting on my insides, they grow and then pull me apart from

One out of a million,
they don't see me.
I am to this world as a raindrop
is to your forehead.
Suppressed only by myself.
I need to let me out,
out of the sky falling.
Time and mind seperated only by night and day.
They all seem the same to me,
no matter what

We have gambled with the cards
The cards that have been dealt to us
But who knows how long the chips will last
When I look back to see through
Can see right to the inside
What an ugly picture it is
The flames of remorse still blacken families
It's been told in so many

Split between choiced, you bleach your thoughts with stories of false
prophecy. Unorthodox methods of self religion, decayed and edge-burned
portraits of mythological entities, a made up story to present the rules we
should live by. If religion is the cure for to blindsight, come now

Methods of self preservation
Survival doesn't adhere to the weak
Revenge sounds good as a motive
Each of us live our own timeline
There's no way to escape
Decorate your own paper savior
Forgives you for all of your sins
Dead bodies left for a trail

Children's ho

Tomorrow is here
Damned by the speed of time
Imagine when becomes where did it go
Mindless people
They shake hands and smile
I should introduce myself with a slap

A nation of a million fools
Programmed by the media's mainline

Logic and reason
How does it e

Today is the day to throw
Away what's left inside
Gather all the things that
The things that still preside
We have to choose our sides though
Though we never split
It's an equal division of mind and spirit
Welcome this world pulls us together

Our mortality is no

Troubleshooting death, it lets you find what makes you want more. Stay alive
for ten minutes, then die in five. A minute never seemed so long when sitting
at the bottom of a fresh hourglass. Hold enough breath to get to the bottom
and not enough to get back. Freedom of choice can't b

The lack of desire pushed down
Pushed down on your face
Dark scenarios constructed on fates dime
Changing all that's around you
Hope seems so far from here
When will this agony cease
How can I fill this void

Suicide infects my mind
Poisoning all that's left insi

A letter written home on stationary, the address marked with the author's
blood. I know his leaving was never premeditated, but eighteen years on
auto-pilot...will drive someone's impulse. decapitated dolls. Arson on action
figures. So told, not acceptable acts. They figured if hope