Abstract Period - 1999 to 2003
If you enjoy the written content of the site and know of a source of outlet and or to publish these works, please forward your contact, it would be greatly appreciated. The projects that I have completed, .ie. "Abstract Period" this text is chapter 2 of a novel of thought progression/poetry, completed and fully edited or ,ie. "Hokies Epic" is one of a few works in story format, my writting is an on going process as well as my visual art.
Location of the two dimensional god
The thought of consensus in it’s moments of immediacy. From the depth of running into a wall to a chemical flux; just short of paralyzed and taking it in the head.
The chatter in your head is improvised no one lacks in refraining it.
I am truth and lust; I’ve begun shocking and still. Whether or not it’s been awhile they all seem to write themselves.
Enough not to be equal as the matter at hand. In any solution the product to be taken away and how all the subject is effected. Unique before the eyes a silent observant of the question.
Deserted Insole
'and then you said I want this to touch our lives. Who is this you; that calls us all? I’ve walked out here before and there is nothing at all.
Try to prove the nucleus of you She fell upon me like a crosswalk, caught in a vortex with a lost doll, that never had eyes. Could I feel anymore but ammunition, cause I had a job to fill
She could only say two words, “ Shoot and kill, “ so I try to find the nucleus of you.
The air vent smells like rubber dolls and they are trapped or hiding from the merchandized laws. I guess in time they have to be in the nothing and there is no other way.
They tried to escape through the ventilation shaft; lifetimes as long as it seems
The ID cards to make it easier around the blender of chemical cocktails; that was to have made a dead end of the journey.
The ingredient of the solution a heading that read, “They mean this for life now they have given.”
The primary confusion of a diverse polarity. Forgotten to be empty and remembering to fill the masks we innocently wore as children. A motion found tasteless now pollinated on dry cement.
Plastic Hell
The tunnel entry self preserved. What in the justice has begun to have given away?
It feels like you would make me wait forever; that I admit could be held under the limit and not in time; to soar.
See where; there the merchant of desire has equated this plastic hell.
Put you here to this point to sell the divised is seen, the realized; redeemed sphere.
Sight to what structure they say the core a bolt to melt you down; the plastic, sounding little town; called hello; plastic people melt.
This publicity is the tower a mark the dose that became, the scare that took over the globe.
The plastic hell we admit to see, is only the beginning of our tyranny.
The proceeds will bring the tower down. The plastic hell is worn around, a plenty the mentally, encouraged sound that is until, we’ve worn the gown.
Plastic things, make rubber games even if you, don’t know the names.
The Still Forgotten
The asylum teases with white walls the still forgotten. Teaming with transparency in silence we seek to discuss with ourselves how we worsen; the ways, the still forgotten
The world is a puzzle; dream is the maze, a case of illusion and the light of intent.
The still forgotten in the terror of the instance as a thought to realize.
In the single occasion that merely stock arrest and pass redemption.
Awake restless, frightened to equate. These are the moments they are certain to take. the last piece to see and a glance.
For The Birds
It’s to correct I’m a tethered being.
My pet insect and I are the only ones who care? To turn the world to cry the game is over.
On my stoop, on my pirch. The world replied with a ring, Alien sex, alien sex, alien sex!
Pick the lock and hide away hooked in and taken.
Nothing is ever; never again for none else. Don’t turn over the only answer responding one in truth.
On my stoop’ on my pirch. The only one who cares? The world replied with a ring the game is over.
The Last Word
The lost world; spoken in the correct tongue. Come again; how did you get this, the last word?
Where did the rest go? I found it to be your own you. The disguise a note of blue; the lost word.
Sky
Take a hint, lie, die, why; I don’t even know anymore. Who are you? How have you been? Chosen reminder, even since. Hidden about, leaving the print of an exposed sky.
Death Freeze
Why this complacency I don’t want to take this from you. God’s of the sky; isn’t it enough and why? I’ve got a raincoat and a brick in a case, with plenty of socks it’s absurd of me to do this.
Nothing but daffodils and forceps as the vigil wallows until hollow. Taste me as a fascist; fade says the windmill, dance says the sun, nazi-voodoo, acid rain, sorting out the time again.
I thought it brought me here instead I made this ringing; it’s intuition is a measure of the nectar in your veins.
Wait and leave me inside until there’s blue skies and days for rainy coats;
Release the mock in reflection. It’s to please the anger and settle the vox; face to face in anycase. Leaving the violated a destined incite and deal god’s wrath. Worthy over and until times of innocence.
Remain innocent in these dreams. You’re so tragic accepting the freedom, mind to the sky. The fixed dilation of another times eye.
Shiver off to the roar of the sky the rise of blinding light. More often than reprised there isn’t anything that will end this. Than to prove the night. What’s this complaint?
As I the vigil; nothing but daffodils and forceps it’s intuition to measure the nectar in your veins. Release the mock in reflections, accepting the freedom. The rise of blinding light to this wrath, to leave those violated. Head held high.
Abadox
The stencil; cross-marked etching. Sworn up and under my hat. Wisdom imprint; the set is in and it’s smacked in the face again. I’m in an abadox weather of chemicals Falling upon the mind, without hesitation.
As it could forgive it’s decent from the skies my apox lies, save me.
You won’t need that carousal in the abadox thrown to my knees, not to pray, but to suffer. Surrender the latest topic from the stain of the rain. I’m in an abadox the collection spreads like it should become as the cause is drown in the powder.
Blood of acceleration the abadox has begun. They all scatter like ants and needing water, like a flower; for my love.
Intercept
Shot to the blind in retrospect; this is how we resurrect. The clueless lifeless, intercept their eyes; acidic and explosive to the core.
A mangle statement, while my skull is indivised. The ragdoll reality; the faceless the fearful intercept their eyes and the other pleads it will be done.
This fail proof system sucks I didn’t bother getting in the weapon. At another look that’s all it took; intercept their eyes. The other’s pleading how easy it is to end it all. The halting darkness slung into corners and tossed down pathetic avenues.
A peace in the scene and a dead silence. Derived by the abductors cry; intercept their eyes.
Timeposter
Alternation; the death altercation; mind lead.
Never let the whispering wind tell you everything; to see before your eyes, comes to you as reality dies. The turmoil shall never end as the shell remains. The cricket is riddling all of those that has fallen upon them.
The option line. What’s gone entitled the same, tells you anything? To see before your eyes, comes to you from the edge as reality dies.
Object you as one; condescending is the cricket. Reacts you claim, given essentially take your aim. The turmoil shall never end as the shell remains. Alteration the death altercation. Mindlead; system synastics. Object you as one, clean sent; “ The cricket riddles those that have fallen upon them. “ Anything for you these don’t concern.
Harvest Day
Stuck in my box on harvest day. To lie from the sun in my own decay.
The rock melts the earth shakes Proving my directed getaway. Everyone is on my grave like a tin shanty with no cool breeze.
The sun melts a stank auburn darkness. This is my harvest day and I’m on my way to the other side.
Maintain caution and don’t spend time late; have you heard it’s all about the word. Goddess of vision for a figure of my doing; plant me roses for pain.
We all scream, " Free Venus ", this is for the rain.
Dilute
The approach is dilated and stoked; to have thought of entering withdrawal and isolated to overcome.
Activate the surface to who they’ve become; again and awaiting to assimilate; as they would allow it.
There is a contest for silence. To reach the correct motive and get there first without consequence.
The paranoia came through and we thought only to destroy. The dial of an infinite creditor that could crush us in it’s grip.
Hidden to tricken the escape. As we borrow into the center and begin to write the tale.
Withered and weathered as the decent is a token and we provoke to deliver. The essence of admitting the conditions that struck the consent to the consensus.
Now awoken in a realm as all sides hidden from reasons. To hook our kind into and free our sixth sense in due time. The answer thrust out into the open by the riddles content.
Utopia’s not our fault it is our fault found and retrieving it is the trip. The dilute tonic cultivated in space and toxic to the touch.
The dial read in a tone like no other. A stroke that has equated itself in every and no direction.
An airborne joke stitched into confusion and twitching awaiting an endless answer. Worn in and as comfortable and as priceless as your twin directly in front of you; seeming to have entered the mirror.
Teaching itself to deny the true identity. Stiffening the code waiting for you to enter. The riddle is a contest of silence and tricken the infinite forgotten escape. As no reality is worn to admit being struck in a vacating contact.
Epidemic
Who’s head to rent next and I’d talk as if I had never meant; I the ah! Epidemic. How does it seem so real, as it never had before.
Until they drop silent screams say stop, but it could never be so simple.
The deafening of ways that lead us to suspicion. It had to be; almost it must.
There on the dial the indecent intermission; to consequence of what has come under. What is this property; all this nothing next to me. I’d say it would have to be nothing at all. I never knew; what of now? I’d think I’d have to cover my expenses.
Question the other. Who’s head to rent next I’d talk as if I’d never meant.
I the ah!; polish another it’s weak; it’s week.
That’s all it meant to be. A question of it’s own trilogy. Nothing is what; it thinks of you.
Octagon Sphere
There is something benevolent in the air let’s see if we can chase it down.
Stand out, demand. Now it stands before you, having lost it’s hopes and aspirations. The only way to be, the aspects of it’s own identity; No.
So reckless the way I understand, such a crude concept of reality. Demand.
Worked over and repressed and suspiciously indefinite. Stand out. Absorbed in sermons, broken to the core. Trace the distances; you felt to keep in mind, all of these with the array, sinking over my shoulder.
What do you do now? The noise. The whispers. The transcidity of shadows cast long and jagged along the sphere.
Distempered moments; for all to here.
Near is now, stand out. Prevail. Such a crude concept of reality, so reckless the way I understand, demand.
Parental Advisory
Pestilence of a fundamental value is unadulterated fun.
You're so silent; leave your self a mental note. this is your revival; probably
What am I doing here, we won? There is a while between here and now, you are the assailant.
You fuck up; you fuck up, you fuck up?
What do you expect that’s it’s set? Crackle swing project or you will be sequestered to a militant pit of insect. Sit pretty to please the cosmos but you won’t.
You fuck up. You fuck up. You fuck up.
It’s a wisdom I encounter don’t forget to check; look out, look again there is a drip on the floor.
I enter to be a test the filth that has been advised. They didn’t give a fuck about you you can do nothing; this is your parental advisory.
You fuck up? You fuck up; you fuck up?
That is a great way to be yourself tells me your special.
Yonder Pon’s Britches
This life fucking blows. Stuck in the weeds with the scarecrow muddy from the soil; the end of my world.
Turns my blood the boil, but never had to pass it on thankful they got a lot of me?
Introducing people to my brain, as the scarecrow stares. Every hoisted hair soaked in sweat. Watching the rodents run for cover each and every found their lover; I hope they mate for me.
Out of the breeze just enough to roll in the leaves. Sick of this life, I wasted this eternity as it is spent like pennies.
Leave a little but don’t give me any; to immature to just slash and frustrate. Stand back they’ve begun to instigate. Sick of this life soaked in rain like bloody urine, do I ever prefer.
Get me a weapon to hold on my skin, slung back and timid before the strike begins. Shocked by the demon; like a vigilantly descending from the rain, now a blaze.
Get off the rubber and stomp their ashes, what stocks at midnight’s prevail? Another way we are stuck in this life is barren, save me; chase them away, sorry for the turmoil and the scarecrows decay.
The ants are tugging on Yonder Pon’s britches; rolled over and ready to squeal, cause I can’t take it anymore stuck in a rut playing the whore.
Demented
You have no motive it’s to insane this; perfect.
Her broken. My spirit minds me I think; tick, entwined deny me.
I never heard anything, not you, not you, the rhythm is written and we can’t contain it. Don’t ask again, so I can’t explain with?
The torrent is strained with an indivised guilt hover and thrown to a paralyzed scope. To a drone reality, so the dream is in it.
The rhythm is written and we can’t contain it. The broken spirit minds me, so let’s take it away and turn this higher, for the live wire.
The ritual is chasing and it’s peaked and reclining the time divine. Climb into the sky. We’re explosive to the core and winding.
Your locked out lost and skeptically stoked. Under and into ever searching and I sit here fucked with you just pushing.
Forcing the remedy I’ve clocked and maimed to enter the mine. Don’t tame this or you’ve gone to far and no way to retrieve your cent. The token you are as the live wire.
Scope
A scope on halloween acorn found and left in my favorite pocket of worn pants.
After one month refound on week three and it was suppose to be soaked in water. After one.
After lots of good passionate sex and the condem attempt that always goes through.
The pants carelessly left on the floor end of the bed in a strange house.
Not enough sensation the acorn in my pocket stepped on and broken giving luck. Now I’m the wizard.
I won worship and envy for being careless and not following. Rules that were laid out on this, halloween hell.
Yod
The soft slow movements the troubles of doubt as they walk by as people on the street. Lost to society as to entice bring it through to me.
I’m just a peel said wear a frown let it down. As you intend liberate my skull for the dive.
I get lost in a lot of things entering and exiting in their own mindless emerging rampage. Where am I? Where I be, because I’m here?
Just a peel said wear a frown let it down? As you intend liberate my skull for the dive.
I don’t want to know. What you want with this one? When all is said and all is done.
All at once you still look like you’d inflict for destiny? What’s to understand.
Then what happens when you blow your fuse put it in your change box?
Don’t let your self amount to nothing and you shouldn’t talk as though it is you; and then dimensia sinks in and you’ll never be the same again. The reason of being is slipping away.
You’re your own transmission I came from here to find it there.
Obscure
We’re in overtime without a case. What’s the word of the mocking bird?
This machine is chaos, this limp is chaos; this limp is out.
A game of denial from the cold known to the name that impedes me onto your rocker and shell out a little happiness for my self. We’re moving out?
Racket of the mind. I’m purely obscure the moment to cry, the laughter to pretend and we know why.
Are you talking to me just give me the answer.
Odyssey Chaos
How are you doing? This is the question of consequence.
This is the decent of an impression for anymore and an invisible decoration troubled by the decor.
Reason of coincidence, however it came from admisted the parody. This has been me too I mind the, odyssey chaos.
Tilt
Let me back soon, I want out. What’s my fault, but an old cry? That took us the signals alone.
Whatever then don’t believe me now all to know we are in the red.
Get loaded; wasted get wasted; loaded. What can I say? Willing and able.
Some people snap, some turn, some forgotten, while in the yearn.
Let me back soon I only told enough and your in the way sitting still.
Spite existence as we are sure torn apart. I think we’re slightly off center without mention.
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