05-21-2013, 06:38 AM
This is about a person in an alternate plane of living, comparing his world to earth, and is also a little insane. It was originally the intro to a book I was going to write but soon I got bored after this and made it a poem.
Dear Whoever,
Tick..Tick...Tick... The span of void must keep ticking, but it must branch. Must branching be a treason? Beauty is so still if gazed on this tainted glass of progress. These walls confine us to weep within the dampened stronghold we so praise. Walls crafted by the spirit of fear and dark. To birth anew, and haiku d'etat of these crimson dividers. Monsters are we as dark radiates from each creature to the percepter that glistens of shine. The warming flare of this shine deceives us all, to the weary point of blank. Fear thus takes the role of engulfing angst and what disperses itself as an anonymity knocking on our textbook cloud to craft a dismaying form of resentment. Every rode from this crooked line will retrace back to caving under these walls, as the path currently branches nowhere. Don't you think so too Aster? Ah the ink seemed to draft such a ruin of the grandest dismaying soul inhabited spherical revolver in my open cloud. Our orbiter trickles a much purer brew, and if a droplet were to be tainted, than it is purged. I assume that this would suffice to please her feeble minded cravings, now let us put this through the shaping of the noir sap. Have you left me already? I see Aster, I will attempt to lay silent for the tainted. The absence of light birthed anew to engulf my sanctuary as I lay in solitude once again. The dark shed by Aster prompted me to rise off of my cotton carrier onto the identity marked shiver bearing nature theft.
Dear Whoever,
Tick..Tick...Tick... The span of void must keep ticking, but it must branch. Must branching be a treason? Beauty is so still if gazed on this tainted glass of progress. These walls confine us to weep within the dampened stronghold we so praise. Walls crafted by the spirit of fear and dark. To birth anew, and haiku d'etat of these crimson dividers. Monsters are we as dark radiates from each creature to the percepter that glistens of shine. The warming flare of this shine deceives us all, to the weary point of blank. Fear thus takes the role of engulfing angst and what disperses itself as an anonymity knocking on our textbook cloud to craft a dismaying form of resentment. Every rode from this crooked line will retrace back to caving under these walls, as the path currently branches nowhere. Don't you think so too Aster? Ah the ink seemed to draft such a ruin of the grandest dismaying soul inhabited spherical revolver in my open cloud. Our orbiter trickles a much purer brew, and if a droplet were to be tainted, than it is purged. I assume that this would suffice to please her feeble minded cravings, now let us put this through the shaping of the noir sap. Have you left me already? I see Aster, I will attempt to lay silent for the tainted. The absence of light birthed anew to engulf my sanctuary as I lay in solitude once again. The dark shed by Aster prompted me to rise off of my cotton carrier onto the identity marked shiver bearing nature theft.
