A Delicate Homicidal Device

A delicate homicidal device. The kind which tortures you from the inside out. The kind which creates realities you never knew could exist within your past, and will never exist within your future. It is a side effect of living life; being delusional while trying to understand the secret meanings within the strange occurrences contained within life. The types of meanings, hidden within secret and sacred symbolism, which the Universe surprises you with at very specific moments within your life. I have experienced these types of moments all throughout my lifetime, as they have been harbingers of occurrences to come. Sometimes, I will see the eagles flying high in the sky over me. There have been times, when I have seen anywhere from, one to five eagles flying together at the same time. When I see the eagles flying high in the sky over me, this is when I experience a deep, lonely sadness within my heart. Seeing the eagles, denotes there will be peace and uplifting horizons before me. All I need to do is maintain my course; getting through what I am currently experiencing, and all will become right again within my life. This has always been the case after I see the eagles flying high in the sky over me. With robins, I associate them with love. The Universe speaks to me through the robins. When I start thinking about, and wanting love in my life, this is when I begin to see the robins. I never see robins on a consistent basis, I only see them when love is about to arrive into my life. It may not necessarily be of the true type of love, a soul type of love, or even a lasting type of love. The love I receive is usually of the passing kind. I know the robins will eventually send the real kind, the permanent kind of love into my life. Or quite possibly, the robins might be fucking with me. I do not think they are, but you never know. It is important to never reject love when it comes into your life, no matter what type or form it may appear in. Love will wear many different disguises, just as she always has. Our egos, this is what will reject love. The judgement within your glance, is the same judgement glancing back at you. This is the reflected image within the mirror, staring back at you. This image is love. Love will always make an appearance in your life, but not necessarily in the form we personally requested for it to be in. As though the human ego knows more about love than the Universe does.

The Sweet Sad Notes of Your Voice

It is as delicate and solitary, as the night is dark and indulgent. My mind. You have prodded at it enough. Callused membrane. Futility exists, when trying to comprehend its contents. There is no use to indulge yourself within the realms of honesty and purity. There are no thoughts for you to reflect upon, or to bathe within. The sweet sad notes of your voice; lingering and tingling within the shards of broken glass you swallowed. There is no future here for you to dwell within. There only exists the past of consecrated misfortunes and prior devastations, which will only know your broken words and thoughts, for your consideration. The tingling of shattered nerves, seem to scratch and itch within themselves. Ready to ignite the soulmates and the soul’s fates. You were speaking empty words, with a native tongue, within the singularity of tempting the masses. Your people. Sweating and wetting upon your unguarded fleshy mind. A doormat for strangers to walk over. Welcome. Come on in. Make yourself at home. The song within your beaten heart, will never be sung nor heard. The stinging within your words, will forever linger upon your dripping tongue. Another shattered and lathered bedtime story. Waiting for me to tuck you in; tucking you back into your coma. Time flies when you are unconscious, as this is the best way to travel. Dead weight as carry-on luggage. Dead weight for others to carry-on. An inconsideration you will always consider. I can hear your necrotic whispers in my ears. You thought they would sound sexy in my ears. My ears have heard it all.

Necrotic Whispers

It is as delicate and solitary, as the night is dark and indulgent. My mind. You have prodded at it enough. Callused membrane. Futility exists, when trying to comprehend its contents. There is no use to indulge yourself within the realms of honesty and purity. There are no thoughts for you to reflect upon, or to bathe within. The sweet sad notes of your voice; lingering and tingling within the shards of broken glass you swallowed. There is no future here for you to dwell within. There only exists the past of consecrated misfortunes and prior devastations, which will only know your broken words and thoughts, for your consideration. The tingling of shattered nerves, seem to scratch and itch within themselves. Ready to ignite the soulmates and the soul’s fates. You were speaking empty words, with a native tongue, within the singularity of tempting the masses. Your people. Sweating and wetting upon your unguarded fleshy mind. A doormat for strangers to walk over. Welcome. Come on in. Make yourself at home. The song within your beaten heart, will never be sung nor heard. The stinging within your words, will forever linger upon your dripping tongue. Another shattered and lathered bedtime story. Waiting for me to tuck you in; tucking you back into your coma. Time flies when you are unconscious, as this is the best way to travel. Dead weight as carry-on luggage. Dead weight for others to carry-on. An inconsideration you will always consider. I can hear your necrotic whispers in my ears. You thought they would sound sexy in my ears. My ears have heard it all.