Thursday, March 7, 2013

Welcome To My Abyss (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) Today


What you need , what you feel… for real?  Instill the will, the thrill of another life beyond the bowie knife to a living hell.  Compel the stale bread to rise again, to defend the purpose of every spore to never ignore the snores coming from the slept, sleeping and well kept in this society.  Bite another fruit to not have to loot the truth that never has been nor ever was the fact based nauseam of a mighty chasm that has been even more broken apart; imparted by a long holy dart which pierced the heart to unearth the evilness of man; can a human stand for anything but self as the wealth of worth becomes a fleeting mess?  Confess the madness and sadness as we take a flight in the ominous long night to entice the blighted ones blindly walking with hands extended, those appendages crinkling, skin wrinkling as the body tires and finally expires in the pit of nothingness. 

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