Lost and Confused Thoughts (Poetry)
-Endless magnates of fascist regimes falling on the light of hope ,
When the swan dies in a pool of its own blood,
the cold grey skies circumnavigate the fresh terry cloth of life.
Yesterday I pondered the utter animosity of the world.
Shall a mass defenstration await the uncleansed masses,
as with huge boils wating to be lanced on it's yellow underbelly?
Mine own agoniful writhing doth make mine spine splinter,
when prosecution of one's own self denial rings true in the still air.
Gluttonous ravens pick at the flesh of inhumanity,
exacting penance for generations of crimes agaisnt the collective unconscious.
A lone gladiator, a shiny combatant seeks to stifle the undulations,
as the ground swells with festitudorous groans and sulphur.
Bow down before the king of the jellies.