Clothed in Emperors PrideClothed in Emperors PrideClothed in Emperors Pride
We’re under siege by mannequin artists, Who paint with blood from their bleeding hearts, Their brush of oak with a cliché varnish, Whiny thistles and powered laughs…
I’m laughing at the manuscript talent, Torn from abstract dynamicity, And gloved pillars kissing marble arches, Hide the pedestals below their feet…
We’re under siege by blank expressionists, Dull tones and suppressed relief, They sing with underlying notes of lustre, They kick the underlings buried beneath…
I’m laughing at the contracted passion, &n
A King Among Bastards: FelonyA King Among Bastards: FelonyA King Among Bastards: Felony
Hello apprentice, take your scythe from the stand, And take your pallet from the holy bread you’re served, Paint me a caricature, of idiocy, Paint me a portrait, of life…
The brush needles are slightly thin, don’t you think? To colour the delicate shade of your eyelid, So blemish, disfigure, and make it your own, Paint me a masterpiece, or fail…
Goodbye master, take your sword from my room, And take my mistakes from the liquor you served, I painted a sonnet, of reality, So carve me a statue, of her…
The knife
Idiot. Annoyance. Character...Idiot. Annoyance. Character. Pawn.Idiot. Annoyance. Character...
It’s about time, 12am, and I’m still roaming the streets, But the pavement is lime lit, It’s a sanctuary for joy, It’s a symptom with wings, It’s mine…
Fuck your inspiration, I’m their muse, I’m so interesting, But so daunting, I’m fearsome, I’m afraid…
Terrified to cry a little, But happy to offend, What else is their to do, When you’re so critical…
I just think, and you ponder, I just worry, and you wonder, I just cry, and you weep, I just write, while you compete…
Clearance, Your CompetenceClearance, Your CompetenceClearance, Your Competence
Early morning wake up call, The sound of the dust lying on the curtain rail, Why does it bother you? It’s just an indecision. Suck up the pride, where the lint is sifted, Wipe the sleep from your arid eyes, Where the twilight has been lifted…
Once again, I’ve found myself without it, But I can laugh it off, as you can lap it up, Once again, I’ve found myself alone, But I can sleep, I can rescue, I can save…
What are we but precognitions, And what kind of binding is a syllable? When it comes to changing meanings,
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..::-| I See Infinite Constraints, Bound By Their Conception |-::..
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How many times do i have to tell you not to leave your chromosomes lying around??!!?!?!?!
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