Aesthetic Perishing of Conceptions Into Obsolete

The kingdom will rise again..

That was the main belief.. That was what we slept and woke up with..
It was about to have a great comeback, and we were so sure...
Our faithful desire showed us no way but a tendency toward renovations..
We were believing in brighter days..

Only clouds came, covered up the sky, rained for years..
First, the sun was gone; the crops grew no more..
The children never grew up properly
The hungry men didn't feel like working at all
Efficiency was crashing down at a phenomenal rate..

Then the moon and the stars too..
The man had no reason to look up to the sky
They lost their beliefs, they felt tricked,
A hand would possibly reach in and grab them one by one
Into the realm of death..

Then the trees and plants died and animals ran away..
Now the world was hell itself
With no activity then the ongoing moan from the fallen kingdom
The wind didn't even feel like blowing
The people faced the last point of starvation and plagues..

Then the rain ceased to an ultimate end..
The land dried up and cracked
The corpses began to fill the air with a distinct odor
The blood spurts remained all over the palace
People that were left alive now felt their muse fly off
Embraced their own solitudes, counting down the days..

Then there was nothing..
Nothing but the ruins, nothing but death
Covering the kingdom of filth
A blind belief occupied the hallways
Since the fall of the empire..
It never went away, it kept the population captive
It was the terrorizer that has slain the masses..

Now the king, slowly rotting in the throne room
Shed the last drop of liquid of the whole kingdom..

Untuning the Remnant of Genuine Hamartia

Listen to the silence..

As the moments passed through the unknown coordinates of pleasure
I felt I was inflicted with pain.. A pain greater than any known..
A pain that couldn't be shared, nor could be healed..

Death was haunting me from the dark corridors of abyss
I flinched with a stupendous horror into my nutshell..

******

Like a sorrow swan soaring through the mystic derailing of life
A shackle torn my freedom out of a blister
Set aside for future references of redeeming a fatal claim
The end had a private gain from my restlessness:
A vengeful vulture watching over my possession, my soul
My guts that kept me alive for these past years..
I return to memories and try to remember what I've done wrong
And can't find the answer inside, so I open my eyes..

Then I see the world..

******

Paradoxes strangle the bare minimum of the life source in an embodied catastrophe
Unlike any other truth that flounders in the make-believe process
The timid hallways of always emote a shattering gaol of mind..

Many believers never thought of thinking..
They only existed to exist..
A populative population of marauders
A cavalcade of masqueraders in a transit sanitarium..

Memories replenished into speckles of dust on the mind..
With nothing to hold on, the living let go of the body
and the lump of inactivity created a funeral for itself..

******

The little red riding hood asked:
"Grandma, why do you live? What's your purpose?"
...
The wolf ate little red riding hood
and pointed the barrel to his head..
Blood spilled, heavier than life itself..

A Prologue to an Unfortunate Farewell

In this instance where nothing began to make any sense,
A crack of corruption tickled my heels, warning of the forecoming doom.
I chose to listen, but I had no plaster to heal the wounds
Yet remained in silence within, the aggregate impedance shed within my soul..
I watched as the hole grew bigger into a masterpiece of destruction
I grimaced to the emptiness of the words that I chose to embrace..

Now it was too late for everything..
The phone didn't work, my voice was suppressed by the crackles
My body paralyzed with fear, my eyes swollen with terror..
There was no way to call for help anymore
Besides, it would be useless..
It was meant to fall apart in the end!
I saw the way it was established, I witnessed the way it was harnessed
The main plot line of a story corrupted..
Yet I didn't voice it out, never felt the need to..
Now, the extremity of a wry past strangled me to my death
My own creation becoming my very own destruction..

..and I had nothing else to do but remain silent..

Now the hole was the unity of every single membrane of a ruined system;
It vacuumed the life and became the perfect symbolism of death
The savage master blocking the ways to the salvation..
It was there, the end of the road was the naked truth amongst all the deceits..

I felt like I was being pulled to my crematory..
I felt like the heat was burning me all inside with rage,
First, responsibly driving me out of the sense's inn
Setting me afoot on this dreary day
And then luring me in with the murky tricks of ages..
Then I would become the isolated lunatic, ready to be set aflame...

In a world of failures, I was bound to become a sparkle of dust..
I was bound to obey the entropy, but it wasn't supposed to be an implosion..
It wasn't meant to end this soon when the span threaded the shroud for 5 times longer...

Now, at the verge of the ferocious flames, I wished for a chance to count my keens..

Reflections from a Sunset Ordinance

...the petals of the black locust dropped dead on the ground, leaving the body exposed to weakness..

there was no joy in the air for the snake to feed on..
there was no dances to sing the tunes for..

a dull movement of revelation passed among the branches like a summer breeze..
it was venomous for the living, a deafening experience for the ears..
it killed thousands and millions among the population..
none knew what was coming..

it was an announced delivery of obnoxious blemish..
the blood was ready to be spilled..
but the method was different..
a cold breeze hit the swaying trees and poisoned them..
ideas inhaled the bane and fell dropping from the sky..
the trees embraced it, believing it was the earthly chill..
the sun bowed with modesty and gave way to the night..

the moon and the stars never came..
an shattered sky of darkness covered the world..
the fog revealed the truth..
the death came upon those living..

now, in this crepuscular and dreary desolation
a sparkle tried to light a fire
only to be consumed by the dusk..

A Tremble is a Shatter for the Weak

Another hour in the lift..

It seemed from the first moment that it was going to be painfully slow.. Quenching melodies for the ears that kept us on the track for a long time..
They call it the elevator tunes these days..
Even in the power outage, this tune kept playing on and on in my mind, accompanying me all along..

But soon, hunger was to take place in the scenario.. The hunger for the revelation of the subliminal plot of this ride.. The lack of vitamins encompassing my body.. an anomaly of the bones..

Another hour in the lift..

Without the numbers, the lift seemed to be on a hopeless trip.. Body started coveting the freemen, delusions started to fill the air.. Tendencies were clearly outlined..

Stated that it was never the much anticipated beginning of ascension, the incline to the misinterpretation of a journey was much more than forgiving.. Thus the body conceived non-existent memories of a sudden past.. That was, a repetitious climax which started to lack effectiveness..

Another hour passed by..

Now the hand was reaching out for something sharp.. To carve the numbers into the elevator.. To actually make believe that we were somewhere other than a point in nothingness.. A destiny, a destination was a necessity..

A sudden rage collapsed onto the body.. Then melancholia became the burden.. Emotion after emotion ravaged the soul and it only left behind stone pillars of mischief..

Another hour slapped the already awake traveler..

In a corner, the traveler sat, recovering from the furious attacks of senses.. It got up, tried to get some fresh air through the lifelong delusions..

Then, unexpectedly, the lift came to a stop.. The music descended into repose... The lights dimmed.. All the emotions were left inept.. Excited was the traveler, excited he was, for he believed that the journey came to an end.. He waited for the grand opening of the doors..

It seemed like hours sealed shut the doors..

Nothing happened... The same setting, the same theme, but a fresh characteristic for the voyager.. Now he was terrified, anxious, panicky.. He didn't know what to do.. He was losing it all in this claustrophobic hell he was trapped into.. He didn't know what was to come, and he didn't know what he had to do..

Hours stirred thoughts in the passenger's mind..

He decided to carve out a window.. "I'll get out of there" he said.. He knew there was no exit.. He knew he was stuck in the middle of something beautiful.. He had to get out and embrace the presence of freedom..

The gust of emotions was the only thing that controlled his body.. No reasoning, no logic.. Now he only depended and fed on the thoughts he conceived for so long.. He dug and scratched and worked for hours until a glimpse of light passed through a small gap on the wall..

He started dancing, jumping up and down... It was only one step ahead.. He knew what to do.. He only had to slam onto the piece he was carving and he would be outside in less than a second..

That's what he did.. He rammed the piece down, and created his window to the soul.. He smelled freedom first.. Then heard the wind.. It was rather faster than he expected.. He felt the breeze; it was making his skin itch.. He felt the cold; he began to shudder and had to curl up.. The best sensation, he left to the very end..

He opened his eyes..
Opened them to an endless depth he was flying over..
He looked around to see the elevator climbing up..
He suddenly felt the wind change..
He suddenly realized his projectile change..
Down was the new up..
He gained speed..
He closed his eyes,
Never to open them again..

The time seemed to rewind it all backwards now..
Yet how it passed mattered no more,
Once the end was crystal clear..

Sue is Hide - The Complete Abstraction Guide to Solitude

Now it comes to the question of "Where did I do wrong?"
A sudden realization is trailed by a transformation of the major question.
The mind start to ask: Where did I do right?
Then the concepts are broken into pieces for detailed analysis:
What is right? Right, according to who? What makes it right in life?
All of them philosophical yet unanswered calls into the night,
and a soft silence speaks with the rain dripping on the windowsill..

The glitch in the master plan was the entity's own perseity
Just a waste of productive energy...

The glitch in the master plan was world itself
And the way humans were set..

The glitch was to try to stick two humongous forces together
Only to cause an internal combustion that led to the explosion
of the smaller mass that was easier to destroy..
The society was corrupted too, but then the society could remain corrupted
As long as the impact separated the deceiver from the core..
One by one, the fleas on the dog vanished in their confinement
Never to come back..
People saw them all the time, not knowing they weren't there
Not knowing that the system replaced them with placeholders for the smooth operation of corruption.
They were lost, in wonderland they tried to create..
Only when they finally failed, they ceased away permanently;
Even the placeholder was gone, never to be seen..
Tears were shed, "Why, oh why?" tens, or maybe hundreds asked..

They asked the wrong question..
If only the "Where did s/he do right?" popped in their minds
They would've analyzed past occurrences to realize that putting an exclamation mark
Just where you gasped for more air
Was grammatically correct..
Then they would nod and appreciate
That an exclamation is eventually a reflection of the corrupt societies impact on free and delusional minds
And the only escape to solitude of purest form...

Supernova

Upon the winter solstice, I was left beyond the shroud of solitude
It was a sentimental embodiment, the rights were fixed to be the faulty perceptions.
I looked up to the sun and felt the breeze
of being alone in a dark universe with silence condensing the melancholy
The beauty of the stars unreached, an underachieved trip to galaxies beyond hallucinations of euphoria..
It sums up to being suicidal
When you are the center of your universe
And those stars light you up with their charm
You are an arm short, that's just what you feel like
In reality, you are nowhere close, and you know it..
And you feel useless without togetherness..

It comes to that unbearable point where depression and dismay wraps the body
and the life lived until now..
An implosion into an endless pathway,
a dissatisfying gluttony due to permanent breakdown
An end is a beginning of non-ending misery..
A subversive black hole, a product of an immersed succumb..

Until nothing is left of this life
The passageways of misery omit the pure laws of existence
Absorb the pure energy of entity..

...Till life is no more...

A Winter Solace and Unshed Tears

Throughout the momentary lie, we observed the pioneers of tremors in an autonomous plight. Current manifolds of dystopia were accusations on the wailing truths of desperate corners.. Once the imaginary folds of entity were observed, the current independence would have been a courtesy of a greater purpose. Yet, the silence was the only solution to the shattered backbone...

----------

The little red riding hood looked up in horror..
"Why are you so depressed?" she said as she closely observed the wolf.
"It's the dark side of the medallion.." said the wolf, with a voice coming deep from his thoughts.

The girl looked a lot more inquiring:

"What.. why do you write these pieces?"

---------

I sometimes wonder if this life is on suspended animation.. Is it the subliminal message that these writings serve?
Then I hit myself with the simple remembrance of what I am. I am what? What am I?

It becomes an oblivious path that trails of to the realms of ember.. I feel the heat..
I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks..
Why do I write these pieces?
People ask me, are you ok, is there something wrong..
Is there, I ask myself, is there something right?
A post-percussion stage of silence into the beats of anticipation
A knowledge disparity subject to confined allegiance
I yonder within a cell with limits
I try to inhale but the extrovert blots are impeccable of the diminished mistakes of a single entity
While the most delusional stages pass through what seems to be an orphan solstice
The rest flow gently among the wings of a firefly..

Not at all am I able to comprehend my utters of emotional traumas
They are leakages I am unable to avert
They are causal, they aren't randomized due to the pollution in the thoughts
They are constituted of the simple elements of microcosms
and the wrath of the light perception and volume tolerance that are dynamic throughout the day
What I create is the complicated blend, a chemistry
Or maybe even an alchemy
of what seems so simple and superfluous..

Yet essential

If there wasn't a hole in my soul
And the worst of me wasn't stripped away
I would be coveting for what would never be mine..

A smirk that rests ponderously on my face
A heavenly attribution that I care not to exalt enough