It's all about the drugs we choose,
The drifting we experience from paired consciences,
The consciousness of the shift from our vocal skill,
Unto all piercing abilities to divide man's estimate for confession-
Being proficient in comparison to a far too near distant trait,
Indicated by prolific pens of emptied prowesses.
The vain disposition seeks the 'how' of it,
Such a concept having caved in oblivion,
Revealing mingling dialects of some certain unveiled hidings,
Nurturing an open range grip on such edifying points of shame.
Ignore the darkness that crept in unaware,
Remain stable in quaking paths,
Visualize how light does the pressing into an outer space by its clarity.
Gambling around a figured form,
Camping the inability to fathom the stewardship of darkness and light unto a faithful end.
Written by:
Nameless Calvary
No comments:
Post a Comment