Freakazoid Skeleton…

THE LASTING:  

Graveyards and the stands.

The calmness, the brands.

All echo from tunneled lands.

The doomsday, the sands.

All holler the beckoning.

Too courageous a thing.

Towards sorrow and the pity.

The burning ancient city.

Sacrifice towers and visions.

Flowers bloom their rendition.

Glory monster- see funny pocket.

The sun bled from the socket.

Half grasp the deafening.

The horror, so muffling.

In what’s known to endeavors strewn.

Calls out the lasting moon.

The crow flies with a croon

 

UNMOTION:

Left turn exit- the barrens and desert land.

The make-shift hotel. Here is the rights of passage..

Tomorrow the morning will share the warmth that’s unguided.

The creatures in the tall forest- skittish, weary, divine.

Our days fall oblong like repetitive unknown.

After we met and talked, I walked away wondering if our encounter really happened.

My reality lately feels unfortunately unreal.

Like the fog has encumbered most of my visual agreements.

Wake up- fall right in the path that has been askew for a long time.

There was a moment that every motion felt like a new discovery.

Now it’s their turn to bring on their own new unguided adventures.

Fly free- your wings are silk and clear. Talking to circles that end in rituals.

Mid-day boredom- the music encores the bluesy side show.

Push play, pause, stop, next, eject.

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