White Asylum

I love red!
Wanna know why?
Come on, I think you know!
I’ll help you out!

The
runny then crusty,
gushing then sealed,
but always
thick,
oozing,
smooth
kind of red is my favorite.

Can you figure it out yet?

That red that only flows with punctures,
but then cannot stop.
At least for a while.
Sometimes it cascades
like
     a
       waterfall.
Sometimes a soft trickle
like
a
calm
stream.

But, sadly,
overtime,
just like an artist with his paint,
it gets dry and flaky.

Now you know what I’m talking about!
I’m positive!

Haha yes, I know I’ve gone mad.
I love it.
Embrace it with my entire being!

I think thats why I'm here.

I never get to see red anymore.
They keep me locked away in these
padded
bleached
blinding          
white
walls.

Surrounded by plain.

I really do miss the color red.
i used to see so much of it.
It was a masterpiece.
And I was the mysterious maestro.

Until someone ratted me out!
Not so anonymous anymore!
Gotta tell everybody!
Hmmm, shoulda turned them red too.
Didn't have the time……

Why are you still there?
Have I not made you insane yet?
Good luck sleeping tonight.
Don’t close both eyes.
Thats when I visit.
I make sure you are not looking.
Before you leave and never see your life again.
Sadly, I’m in here.
And you are out there.
Not so many white walls where you are.
Do me a favor, will you?
See some red tonight.
I have lost count of how many days since my last masterpiece.
I really do miss it….


Anyway!
This has been the most pleasant of visits!
Please come again!
Just one thing to remember:
Don’t close both eyes.
That’s when I come.


And I won’t let you go like last time.

Devil’s spawn, Devil’s spawn
Sweet and sly as a fawn
As a child mercy mild
As a man **** all he can

Feed the broken monster
with the strangled mind
Replace the rusted screws
and tighten from behind

**** the broken monster
deep inside of me
Twisted rotten moment
no longer can I see

No justice nor equality
How to live without envy?

No money nor security
How to live without greed?

No motives nor prize
How to live without sloth?

No accessibility nor satisfaction
How to live without lust?

No pleasure nor satisfaction
How to live without gluttony?

No logic nor sense
How to live without wrath?

No compassion nor humbleness
How to live without pride?

Words of Harfouchism

My name is wrath
I'm full of hate
full of anger
And I can not wait

I'll make you trip
I'll make you fall
I'll steal your world
Then burn it all

There is no mother
From which I spawn
There is no father
To do me wrong

Satan's the boss
He is my lord
My every action is his word

My name is wrath
So write it down
Because I'll carve a path
then make you down

There is no pity
There is only fear
There is no God while I am here

Shattered Bowed
Clustered broken glass
Dark shadow engulfs
Laid on the grass

Stone piece signifies
People bid goodbyes
Death Lord besieged
Now a graveyard breed

Tested through times
Committing crimes
Resting, Evil Wrath will rise
Avenging my cries

People, friends betrayed
My Wrath, My Hatred
Declared self-destructing
At times exploding

My Wrath, My Friend
My Wrath, My Hatred
My Wrath, My Enemy
My Wrath, ME!!

The Serenity in her eyes
Always make the Demons hide
The pouring honey from her orchid lips
Never   Signifies   the  Fiery  wrath  to  come

In his brain, the metallic sweetness of the blood *****.
Because at night he strides on a tightrope.
Balancing between insanity and reality.
He takes pills cause they say it'll help his anatomy.
The clean flick of a knife against a throat.
He staggers and falls into the murky moat.

Don't blame him.

He's drowning in his own sorrow.
They swallowed his hope for a better tomorrow.
They locked him up in a casket.
Tied a bow around it like a basket.
But he's not six feet under.
He's stuck here, starting to plunder.

Don't blame him.

He knows that his past is drenched in black.
They told him he stabbed his mother in the back.
He feels their blood dripping down his fingers.
But still he can never remember what lingers.
The men in the long white coats talk about trees, and cars, and trains, and boats.
But all he can remember is the room that he's in.
His vest held together by a chain and a pin.

Don't blame him.

He's hugging the padded walls.
Dreaming of the day where his sanity calls.
He's tired, he knows that his mind is already expired.
Yet still every night, he strides on a tightrope as his essence is groped.
Everyday he's on the verge of insanity and reality.
He makes sure they don't change his anatomy.
His white vest restrains him.
It tends to drain him.
Everyday he dreams in blood.
But then again how could you blame him.
They'll eat him alive before his life claims him.

Don't Blame Him.

My kind murderer,
your eyes burn like caramel
and melt my insides.
You light a cigarette
and it awfully reminds
me of what once upon a time
was my heart.
And you say, everything turns
to dust with time.
But my kind murderer,
you are not time, you are fire
bringing me to ashes.


F.Z.N