Freakazoid Skeleton (Trippy) cont…

Went outside to see all the screaming.

Heard someone laughing at all the ravens.

Once I saw them I started dreaming.

And fell into the belief and began behaving.

As if the world known to men wasn’t here.

Suddenly the earth began to shake and crumble.

The murder was called due to the rain and thunder.

These times are becoming drunk and we stumble.

Until the ravens show full alert, our mood is still humble.

We’ll speak to the remaining men when they are here.

Forests are in darkness and the rivers are colder than the year before.

Waters flow rage into the stormy sea, and our minds melt like the winters white.

As death reeks across the silent meadow that echos in the blinding snow.

On the reasons and frozen lakes the ravens perch, huddled like shaggy ink.

The distance hollars to the men who once preached to a future that will never get here.

Another moon has decended the days, with a mystical haze. In which we gaze with such awe and gives the ravens their caw. As we dance in it’s cast like they did in the past, we’re so bounded to the ground where our madness astounds. For a flash in a moment we were on the right trail, yet for some blood we tasted, death was only to prevail. A friend phoned and I saw the edge of the world slip into the memory and into forgetfulness.

I could have been slaughtered by the rain and fall into a field surrounded by avalanche.

I should have witnessed the surrender of a tall beauty and search far for the winter that spills existence. The creatures walked frozen in their uncertainty as they foraged for life in the barrens wasted. Her temperment shorted while the beast turn favor in the midnight starvation. A warrior or mockerist belched the tranquility, and we ate the lizard’s hissing regurge.

Somewhere the shutter shakes and all is blurred. The reset only allows a moment to be resurfaced. Because the time is timed the discovery needs to be quick. As the flight is hastened, the perch becomes totemic. All in favor begin the ritual. Take back the Earth and create the wilderness precession. A whirlpool and formless, the sound of wind blown grasses lick against our quiet movements. The grouse run chaos through it’s sharp breeding edge. Where are the men that will shelter the storm when it hunts here.

All grudges gone. With the exception of sight and fright.

I never had an original thought.

Only the ones I forgot…

 

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