Beast

Awesome is the struck which it says. Loneliness is his ordeal. Order when there's no order. Superman to save his day of mayhem. He has a grasp of wonder, a might and thunder in hands. He's Ill with some kind of a psychological disease, but that which he never reveals. Honesty when turbulence is at hand is so far to reach, however he reaches. Mighty after such a talk he might be. Though he suffers silently deep below. Outside, he's a rolling thunder and a thunderstorm. Wisdom in his speech. Talent in his tongue. Words worded so neat. And what else could he be. He's a story rest assured great to be told to the whole world. How he survives everyday life with an untouchable smile. And a heart of a beast. Joy may be far out of reach. Joyous though he's. How come he fights hunger in blood, defies the odd and blender blend a somewhat extreme athlete....

Wrong Born

Chorus Faults in arms wrongs Defaults in stars strong  Dilemma in the morn I fall I cross roads I'd like to be wrong When I'm right Guess I'm wrong born Tonight I might tremble on a soft rock below and below  But what goes and goes is the footlings put together strong and strong I remain here strong, though I fell off a bit, therefore I trembled, but maybe a bit, so and so Risen tall amid green grass, roots and woods, and petals, and what falls and falls  Off amid pain and hunger for more and more of things out of worlds and world Services of mine hands, thine hands services none, how come betrayals you me in soft corny theatre while the audience watches it then they're faulty hands applauds it, and applaud and applauds Loud in my soft ringing ear, corn roses soft drowns in miserable waters softer, soft and...

Depression

As it seems, useless to put up a fight for a joy of a heart. That to hathes it a joy of joy. Why, and what is joy. Further beyond, I see lightless goners of matches lit with fire torn. That to lit matches untorn, a present it seems bright to my eyes that see. A bright day out of doom and gloom, and a day. What today is, nonetheless, a day is interim of time betwixt. That leads to days interims betwixt. Hence, it's a day. Then to reminisce, why would I want to spend a day miserable or glad. That's a question hard to define and answer. Brightness the day, the gloominess arrays. And the reverse a joy or sad, and a day. Huh, I'm glad I've written thus tis. And tis to norms outlays out of heads there are, means much in the head to turn, churn a name a day and a name. A game, a zane and what it is. Only if I knew what it is. It feels absurd and longer...

Visionate

Hi, in this post I'd like to explain some issue while i was browsing your comments some of you said " how do i clear and straighten my thoughts before starting to write a write-up. I think i have something to say about such an issue. First of all, having a clear mind that is organized before starting a write-up really means much more than you can think. Such that, if you pay close attention to the well organized and separable mind and his person, probably, you won't understand much how they're thus neat in mind, writ, and person. You'll probably believe they're way better thank you, maybe more smarter. Even though what I'm trying to breakdown and say here might sound strange to some, but I'd really like to help those of you who want to get better, not just in writing or specific activities but in every aspect of their lives, as that all is...

Light

Why people suffer, I gotta ask. There's something deep inside a heart of mine that shines things intertwine. When things dull be, I reminisce on memories cold. So as to bring me short. So as to limit me soft. Nimble like a small rock, I test the dark then because the small hurts my heart to release the different which is me strong. I have a rebellious heart, a stubborn head and a knife next to me. I'd like softness like tree roots but they hold a tree strong. How come I'm loose as a string but a soldier I am. Though that's what I don't know. What about the possibility that I'm of death in it's cause. To die roast open in halves like a devil and an angel. Yet, then I ask again why people have to suffer ? Makes no sense to play the game of losing. I guess I have an instinctive nature to continue an affirm head straight to go. Many has witnessed my...

His Name

The way it is. Possibility and a miss. Misunderstood growing up of someone who sounds everyday gibberish. Why, oh why, have you lit the match unmatched to be lit. Then you went on with another stick of a miss. Miserable things are tension strings upon a heart which wry. My mind and what it is. Thence, a beautiful scheme of tomorrow's day slits it's way through and through. After an end, I end my miserable things. Under aim and an armor armoring things; does he shoot well upon strings to aim loose not to lose to score and bruise. The heart of his contenders only if he knows them well. Tends to be something of a joke. Home, sweet home is there and a culprit who got caught might never come again back home. For why ? He murdered himself in miserable tendings before mentioning his, name. 

Our Business

Considerate ways of surviving amongst pools of vulgar fish; a delve beneath the seas, further than what they can hardly see. As beneath, a layer of gradualism might revolve established. As to seed in and dine feed your mouth through your teeth, you need to eat. Eat other smaller fish than you. As in a widened sea, there's nothing guaranteed nor anything that can be guaranteed. Survival in most cases is like the above-sent message. I'd rather want to believe in the above-mentioned case or scenario. As in business world, as in sea fish world; and that what you see and tend to seek; thus is the survival mode in most parts of the world. Especially in a world taken over fully by business, from businesses in sports and hobbies to businesses in selling goods; so forth. Everything ever since human birth on sound Earth is industrialized and commercialized....

How’d Ya Rather Survive A Depression

How'd ya survive the storm of pain when the thing in starts to unravel; and a wry and an extort of a pen to be put by and aside. Then you'd rather count time by limits of numerosity; that if that's only possible. Ya'd think unlimitedly it's possible. But what's possible near the line neat of swiftly pen ink shots. A throb of a heart thence and a limit starts to condense. Be it a limit of shots. Though you'd never know a shot of what. Then that's possibly a question finally has risen from things where's no limits. A rain today, hey, else a remark I'd rather lay in here for the sake of living in a day out of days of set limits berskerness and my depression. Else, I'd rather never shoot a star laid on Earth neither come near to such a thinking. Proves much what I've said though, I live in miser. And afterall, what else could be the array of light to...

Maybe A Lovely Meeting

Please count off my evil deeds been spent with you. For that's real, a thing bittersweet left amid chaos and chaotic things. So chaotic I was, chaos was the reality, yet it did only feel amazing, the gesture I spawned at you, out of evil and miserable things, and yeah I took it all on you. For what's in you, in you is the message to thrift feel you ablaze kick dust off your view field. Out of an eye that's precious that's real to determine, and ey, I saw you yesterday closing your car's door just to walk a sea wide alongside and a beach. Of a view that it was, and out of no clue I was in there, yet, who could've thought that we'll meet again, once maybe and tomorrow is a day. And that it ain't today's the rendezvous, so forever I say may it be once for all time as we spend our time.

Dear Diary

That's what's conjuring. Upon needy space, there laid, lies one's space of parts in Earth. There laid, a countless count, 1, 2, 3, and perhaps the sheep and a wolf never out space be outspaced. There lies he dead, onerous obtains of things out of musty Earth, dirt and leaves the spring, sprung and span a life there for living on Earth, and is it's stake for life on Earth. Deeds put to Earth by the human who sees, knows and speaks. Yet loud was it he, when he's dead in a claim, for him an aim of life, a house and a flooring rounding, and for him by The Mighty, a space. One would wonder upon a piece of lighting, the enlightening and it's enlightenment, a piece of screwing a living down on Earth, then there lies the enlightenment. Come spare even a slight of time's share like dearth spending, here you would've known that something of a thing never...