Push a button and wait,
Tick tock the clock is painful.
Inside, from the gut,
A sensation stretches without reckon to time,
the tendons of arm react, fingers tock,
tongue clicks and ticks,
and the soul straightens.
Ya just want to hit keys and and hit keys without thinking,
no rhythm or rhyme or thought,
strongly,
just something from the heart.
Write with the heart and edit with the mind,
but when there is no mind to mind,
to give or to take,
and then give…
what do you do?
A soul and a soul unhitched,
A deep and hearty ache, uncloaked desolation,
Stretched out too thin too tightly.
How much pain can an already pained man endure?
Head still,
Neck slanted,
gently resting,
but there is nothing gentle,
and the rest is disturbing.
These sounds inside, louder than the outside,
with chaos swarming despite external calm.
There is no calm like the delicate decay of corpses,
wilting roses as a carcass,
a cold row of dead bodies,
or of love.
Life is decay,
a sorrowed song echoed between heartbeats,
feet stiff without tapping,
trying but fucking tried.
There was a time for trying,
when trying was being and to be was everything.
Have you ever lost your best friend?
You hope they found themselves,
Because they were never lost,
they just left your side.
What amount of breaths could stop this chocking?
Motivation nullified by extinguished vigor.
There is no motivation.
Benefits of toxic relief exhausted,
There are no benefits.
When the dead remain,
every spark yearns towards nothing.
When I am laid,
I am laid in Earth.
Unkempt.
Your teeth are trashed,
your lungs are in pain,
nose broken, lips red,
sitting back slyly,
waiting for the rain,
Up down left right,
For some,
life is just a game,
in out in out and leave,
There’s No Rest for the Wicked,
For Sale. 18×24 acrylic and mixed medium. 50.000.
Exclamation in a hidden reverie,
Somethings on the outside are really inside of me,
Like this flow outwards it will always be,
The same and same at least to some degree.
To be honest I feel like a schmuck,
It’s not a matter of wit but of luck,
These words come and go and when they come it’s yuck,
haha I really just don’t give a fuck.
If I could do it steady I’d be the best at rap,
It would give me a chance to let my mind unwrap,
Too many words and emotions stuck and in a big trap,
But hey hey hey, again, I don’t give a crap.
I’m an awful speller, thank god for spell check,
I have an awful memory, thank god for history,
I don’t know a goddamn thing, thank google for a godlike victory.
Buddha, who dat?
Oh oh, this text is all supplementary!
Challenge completed.
Samuale 