Photography

"One thousand thoughts failing through, but none like mine. Rewind, rewind every second more unlike you as death's diluted with god's sunshine. Your scribble-pad soul, waiting for me to write, waiting for me to write your wrongs. Sitting so empty, posed in a symmetry hole. With my see-through palms I can never be whole. Keep waiting for me, keep waiting for me. I'll get it right. I'll get it, write." The rise I am coming upon is no accident. In fact, I have known of it for quite some time now. If gravity will even have them, let the churches......

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"I write in pen so I can't erase the ugly lines. The letters so powerless and thin, but within the words they are the vertebrates to the spine. I'm not sure what's important to the world, in fact I never really cared. What I do know is when you run your eyes down the spine of my work you'll never be spared." I have always chose to write in pen. It makes it more important. It makes each line in every letter a valuable movement towards a word and towards a line. Towards capturing an idea that you only have......

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"I was told to wait until the world spoke of me like I no longer exist. My view from purgatory of the world's eager wrist." Look up, look up, but down to see me. A reflection of the time that was, a time I didn't want to be. Existence was a burden, one that I burned down. I once wrote of a moon, one that didn't exist until now. The day is coming, but I won't show my face until the night. That certain moon will mark a final shape, one that the world cannot fight. I'm tired of watching......

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"I'll make you tremble as you try to whisper to me close. Give me all of your truths so I can run my tongue along your woes." Tremble, tremble then I'll disassemble. I know you take pride in never coming apart, but tonight I'll rip your pieces to the floor and I'll read them aloud. I'll wait for you to beg to stay close like a wave to the shore. The mirrors surrounding us to watch The Devil leave your body and then enter again. Always knocking three times just to make you open the door for him. You know......

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"Like a constant ache that never goes away. Mannequin hands folded up showing you how to pray. Your hands clutched tightly around god's infinite mistakes. He didn't give you life. You created your restraints. Fuck the life into you so it's mine to take." Dead hands with dead eyes, empty prayers polluting the skies. The artist may be the most dangerous of all to god. A true creator of worlds and the ultimate enemy to oppression. We're all born with chains, but how you break them should become an obsession. It's like a constant ache that never goes away. Fingernails......

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"I love leaning up against time, but is this your blood or mine? I want you to lean upon your crimson, soak it up and start again. When will this ever be enough? Learn to devour without throwing up. This world is tainted and hard to ingest. You throw up from your mouth, I throw up from my chest." My chest opens wide through my ribcaged-teeth, this is where I reside. The world feeds me shit I try to forget, throw up just to stay alive. I'm not sure why I fight, to stay alive I mean. I have moments......

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