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Que Mar 16
Seem to only be myself
When I’m mad
When I wanna fight
When the world is caving in
And I can’t get past the need to scream.
Speaking up, speaking out
Just to be shut down
Never noticed the smile fade
Never batted an eye as the world within wasted away.
Que Mar 16
seem to only be yours
When I’m quiet
When I’m following your non-existent lead
Down into the depths of oblivion.
No doubt you’ll lead me to my death
No doubt the flowers will spring where I wept.
Our causality;
A casualty ripped to the marrow.
Ruining this reality;
So I dissociate,
Since I can’t amputate.
Que Mar 16
Seem to only be alive
When I’m breathing
But the air is full of sadness
And I’m choking on your ego.
I wanna learn to forget
But my love language is words.
All I hear is how much you hate me
Or wish I were someone else
As if that’s supposed to endear me to you
Make me not want to crawl into myself
Make me wish turning the wheel wasn’t so easy
The letters I wrote, may they never be read
But I know there’s only rest for the dead.
Que Mar 16
Veiled wounds in the mind
A tired soul cant use honey to catch the flies
Too many attempts, blood flows when she tries
A mirage of water in a desert;
The illusion of calm serenity
Parched and starving on your ideology
I sit wading in the dark, impatiently.
What darkness spills forth now
As the disillusionment wanes
What power in the emptiness
The numb causality of being callously tamed:

A caged animal will bite the hand that bleeds it.
Que Mar 18
you disrupt me
I'm feeling too much at once
I'm feral but only where you cant see
the line between what makes you
and what hates me
is too close
unsteady in the corners that shielded me
hoping they protect me
from what has always eaten away at me
I give too much
I feel in infinities
"Some infinities are bigger than..."
I wished and I prayed
but hope seems to lag
passive aggressively sailing on by
demanding I switch to live
urging that the way to combat
the will to give
is to take.
Norbert Tasev Mar 17
My dream-to-cover makes it void of the dawn; My coma ears are hit by a dull, no noise, the eternal noise of the big cities as an anthill. The lazy worldwide wind still shakes the spring -tamed mood, in which no one can feel the summer forgotten of the summer.

Relaxing, harmonious desires seemed to be intent, just like most shipwrecks; My soul and in my heart are secretly two double shadows, which may be increasingly difficult to decipher, especially for those who practice empathy tolerance not only with well-ringing words but also.

As a cataract, many manipulates the deceived blindness, as well as the harsh -smelling blindfold: anyone who has made a bargain -knowing about himself -is a human law over himself, that is, eternal, unbearable slave tax. - Often, my puffs carrying the wreath of distorted grimaces are more than compelled, because of strange bile, vomiting grimaces on it as thick-hearted layers.

The melody of a damp, dull indifference, like a whip, knocks into my heart: a condemned accusation is the redeeming love of the universe as a gift, as one of the possible antidote to the happy immortality in moments. Calculated chess game -feared -never escapes because he could leave eternal doubt, as well as self -denial of conscience.

As a wound, only the boredom of boredom, later in the sober, conscious doubt: how should it be different, forbidden, forbidden, or even lame-and-whining, to get out of the grinding treadmill of everyday life?
Norbert Tasev Mar 16
Kerouac tattooed skin shows secret signs, vision signs; The more striking, the better they are. Peace loan bread rarely returns, just like the money ends at nine at the cashians will deliberately take a worthless little money. Still, in the suits that began to be disgusted, the big Cula-Weais were still able to stay, and they dared to stay, because everyone was a crook, even the son of the housekeeper and the washer. The world would not only pull the curtains of a kitschy, ordered fog that repulsive, but even packs a few tons of shovels to make the simple minority even harder.

Lightweight, small -style women seem to have a little stronger makeup and needle heels, who, although they promised their parents, would hopefully get home safely in half before midnight, and the end result is only nine months later. Flower petals tear the accelerating time. "Is Ágnes like the Melós Kisitós Géza, who is torn off from the branch?

Nowadays, even more and more people would want to be ironed once, and for all, they have become a shipwreck, and their mortal everyday life and pigeon fibers are combed from the bald-dandruff head of decades. With the rags of our memories, it would be good to look for and find the grip points that are secured again; Dogs crouching in alley smells are homeless, while semi -full demonstrations flow, like the blood of twilight red wine with tablet smells.

Perhaps only the Savior Death Consciousness can bring about the final amnesty that can be a redeeming death of death!
Norbert Tasev Mar 15
They put the man out of the big whole, that you. Try to cultivate the time of mortality. Inside, in the manipulated one-depth of the soul, the happy-sad dust of the past decades fluttering as sand. Because eternal moments would be good to adhere to the storage of cell-molecules, like Velcro fasteners or magnets. After forty, big harvesting begins; Thus, who tries to collect the fruit that was deserved in the way of serving crickets, or even enthusiastic ants, even what they thought could be sacrificed.

Coincidents were hanging on robbery chains, as they could have been able to stand the day -to -day pressure differences, which would have been good to compensate. The signs of life are already reflected in vain by the witnessed footprints, and the earthworms are furthermen, who are aware of the more true significance of the floods.

A thin clearing gap between our crowded feelings is increasingly rarely attacking; Secret, guessing Vates movements only rarely sing. Wherever you go, you are surrounded by obstacles, bad, unobtrusive fences everywhere in your life, which you may not be able to get rid of.

The unprotected victims dance at the edges of the gaps; Thick anniversary rings hiding in the year -rounds still hide the values ​​of our mortality. Time now, with increasingly uncertain charge, click-and-tongue in the century! - Anti -falsifying dazzles play with the diodes of the inner vocals that can be used, which we may even forget to show ourselves.

The hope of returning is still under the surface, but there is no one who finds it, holds it, comfort it with sincere, fearful will, and wants to take care!
Norbert Tasev Mar 14
I try to question myself from a crook, well depths of self-marking, as with the only real crime of crime; that it exists and still wants to prosper. I want to cry for help, just like yelling at my chronic little age, squeezing: _ , dear! Adopt! Be my cherished mother, when all and everyone has been abandoned! "_ - I will soon be disappointed and realize that it is a literal nonsense for anyone to get on the iron gates that are not opened anywhere.

Like the law of the law, like something always moistened, the stigma-stigma-stigma's past, the stifling, strangling fragments of my past; ****** capillaries blink in my drumming heart, as if it were a malfunctioning, hard-to-repair pump that only pumps the life-giving oxygen elixir if they are in despair for a few minutes.

There is nothing cozy among the greasy hungry flowers in Paris derivatives and as much as friendly as possible; Freaky knives to see a cheap, small -style flea circus in the news, the miserable theatrical formula of everyday abandones, and the era of leeches that are dried on the bones.

Why do you have to see that the lovers were also replaced by pink ******* and expensive console angels when it was once a liberation from tons of Sififus weights that one person could look into the other's truthful eyes?!

Can we trust our friends, family members -if they were at all at all?! Don't you want to harvest with this deliberate primacy, the enforced, manipulation situations, petty situations?! "It doesn't matter if the simple average anthil is living or dying!"
rick Mar 13
4am
…at four in the morning,
the room was sharp and silent
through the stillness of the dark
and yet, I sang those old songs
swaying in the cold wind
with bottle upon my breath
as I dreamt of green birds
and the lonely white lotus
that kept fluttering
into my scratched head
while coming apart at the seams
with tears of sadness
I sat and pondered
where they all went:
those little caramel ladies of brown doom
with novocaine souls and enamel bodies;
you gave me the liveliest moments
even when you brought me
to the brink of death,
you have liberated me during
my most shackled state of mind,
you spilled the truth when you
told me, “I could never be reached.”
and therefore I must come to terms
with the absence of your warmth
as the green birds have flown
into concrete skies
and the white lotus has shriveled
into a curling black mass
I sway with the wind,
rising the bottle
and belting out
those old songs
in a room so
sharp and silent
at four in the morning.
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