|Sometimes our greatest fears make the best pictures.|
symptomssymptoms by ~crazynoodle22
The burning of your touch and the acid of your skin
have come to be a comfort as the insanity sinks in
the nausea you bring creates a rush for me
And this pain within my heart, a source of fragile extasy
Demons in the covers, your apiritions in the dark
They add to my pychosis, and leave yet another mark
Palpitations through the silence, symptoms of my tradgedy
Another manifestation with no cure nor remedy
And upon my skin in rashes im sure there lies your name
And imprint of the culprit that has come to cause this pain.
Marching In TuneI don't want to hurt youMarching In Tune by ~ancient-seeker
but it seems like
everything I say just goes right ahead
and splits your skull open at the seams
where a nonsensical torrent of good advice
meets my lips.
I hate to be blunt but
it's so much easier than being sharp
like, as, a needlepoint injecting
similes into my skin.
I'm so worried about
form and figure
rhythm, rhythm, rhythm, count
one two three four,
clock's ticking, strikes
clichés every hour.
I stopped making sense a long time ago
and wasn't it better? When I became
a blind scientist
crunching numbers to please
rhyming, rhyming, rhyming.
I forgot a man who had changes to make;
he peered into my head to read
the narration and feel in,
wearing today's hat.
that falls from the sky
and teaches laughter to behave.
Would you like this back?
I believe this is your crisis of conscience,
because I've already got mine
and there it is out scaring children on the street.
It got dark before I was ready.
Maybe if I take yours and mine