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Remit
My eyes have seen more than they´re worth My ears have heard too much I begin to let go of those I held dear I begin to let go of my own being
Who am I to say that nothing is real? I search the skies for an answer I search the tombs for a name Yet my rotting hands come up empty and I've remained in the same place I've always been
So I've begun to loosen the once-steel grip on my own silent reality and in the process, I've let loose the horrors of my soul
Forgive me.Â
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Antipode
The disappointment crawls down my face as I attempt to hide it behind a cigarette but I can't change what you've done and I can't change who you are
Once free, with an open heart but a closed mind I suppose we all have our moments stick the needle in your veins to bring back the memories of what once was
Do you feel satisfied now? is your life what you want it to be? As you become the person you lost yourself in to please the alluring crowd standing behind your window at night looking in to make sure you're filling the role
Because their thoughts and opinions didn't matter it's the irony that kills me that now it's such the oppositeÂ
Adventive
Poor little cockroach, lost its own way. Not very native to this strange old country he has traveled to.
Funny, how you can relate to that, eh?Â
Frondescence
I sat in front of the open campfire and waited for the darkness to engulf me. To let the stars empower me with their gaseous dust. To let her words surround me of old fairy tales that never seemed to age.
She had once told me that the frondescence surrounding us was the spirits of the dead that waited for the day to come up from the ground and whisper their hauntings that never seemed to die. Â
Frondescence
When we were young we would jump into piles of orange leaves that dad spent hours to rake together. We would let the world spin in a red and yellow blur as the pigments swirled into our eye sockets.Â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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aren't you a dainty morsal skewered and lanced like bare branches, cutting through a clear sky teetering on the prongs of my cutlery fingers you will meet my lips dripping and fervent to feast
Collop
Don't be satisfied when you take the last piece of that meat and smile at us with true contentment.
Don't tell me you want it medium and sauteed.
Don't stare and express your hunger through your eyes that linger on my body.
I am everything, but a piece of meat for you to devour.Â
I refuse to write a poem about a piece of meat.
:)
