"me not so new in the game
many have already come & dang gone with same shame
the guilt of being struck in the pleasure of masturbation,
once you come in, twice you loose fame
nothing left in life that you could dang change
just like an ink of pen; its riffle with multiple colors,
desperation got many hues in it that craved to get soothed in the rain... "
"Rain? what this fucking shit come from? huh? what yah talking 'bout, man? sometimes, i dunno ev'n understand what the hell you goddamn sayin', but oh... really... ? Rain? you've gotta be kidding me?
((pause))
wai.. wait, you mean, TEARS being plain?"
"yo, you got this shit, man!" Abraham smirked
"you got me, man. That's all what i'm talkin' 'bout. you hear me & that;s why i go get hard on ya. Nobody understands me. I've had a great time with Marie who said, am sarcastic (but in a professionally great way)... am i? urgh, whatever. some calling me Mr. insane A-K-A, xx49, schizopheric but you, my man, never ever say anything 'bout whatever i goddamn wring you 'pon with. Damn!"
"Whats?" His spirit in the mirror bashed up!
Mirrors.... all windows... doors... the roof... everything go smashed out. clouds roared up in the trespass of sky. The thunder of forthcoming storm giving warning to my ranch but before...
i'd make a way to get outta my own woodland, a great typhoon rustle throu' the bough of my tree-house & its implications - the lightning - the spark come loomed satirically... to mother nature...
& guess what?
"the wrath in dark walk dead
in the light, neon - the fog of tres night,
being lost in the paradox of dementia praecox,
'nutter night falls &...
my own demon leads me to the gate of hell, i cry."
"yo man, what 'tis fucking hell's 'bout?"
It's the hell of caramel heart in which you don't rule your body but the hunger of your flesh has you at its command & controls you, overwhelmingly... & everything that you once had in the same palm of your hands seem to get faded away into cold ashes of blown-winds, people walk off their own life, world becomes anew, unknown, mysterious to anew spirits with time. Crime, sin, mayhem & every dream goes flushed out under the bridge & nothing you left to live for, anymore but... misery of gone-days, innocence flies... so yeah..
".. me not so new in the game
many have come & gone but the world still plain
the pain of being lost in plea..
indulging me deep inside even the deepest of me, badly
you can't save me til i don't even wanna save us both, (hushhhh)
masturbation became my anew world in which i'm the bait & your desperation, i lushhh!"
With the flames of desperation, Abraham & his spirit go tranquil & sailed another night in anxiety of being not so getting controlled by... urgh whatever!
Ps. The second part of "flop-artist", here's a link to visit its first version:
http://frameuponthehearts.blogspot.in/2016/03/flop-artist.html
many have already come & dang gone with same shame
the guilt of being struck in the pleasure of masturbation,
once you come in, twice you loose fame
nothing left in life that you could dang change
just like an ink of pen; its riffle with multiple colors,
desperation got many hues in it that craved to get soothed in the rain... "
"Rain? what this fucking shit come from? huh? what yah talking 'bout, man? sometimes, i dunno ev'n understand what the hell you goddamn sayin', but oh... really... ? Rain? you've gotta be kidding me?
((pause))
wai.. wait, you mean, TEARS being plain?"
"yo, you got this shit, man!" Abraham smirked
"you got me, man. That's all what i'm talkin' 'bout. you hear me & that;s why i go get hard on ya. Nobody understands me. I've had a great time with Marie who said, am sarcastic (but in a professionally great way)... am i? urgh, whatever. some calling me Mr. insane A-K-A, xx49, schizopheric but you, my man, never ever say anything 'bout whatever i goddamn wring you 'pon with. Damn!"
"Whats?" His spirit in the mirror bashed up!
Mirrors.... all windows... doors... the roof... everything go smashed out. clouds roared up in the trespass of sky. The thunder of forthcoming storm giving warning to my ranch but before...
i'd make a way to get outta my own woodland, a great typhoon rustle throu' the bough of my tree-house & its implications - the lightning - the spark come loomed satirically... to mother nature...
& guess what?
"the wrath in dark walk dead
in the light, neon - the fog of tres night,
being lost in the paradox of dementia praecox,
'nutter night falls &...
my own demon leads me to the gate of hell, i cry."
"yo man, what 'tis fucking hell's 'bout?"
It's the hell of caramel heart in which you don't rule your body but the hunger of your flesh has you at its command & controls you, overwhelmingly... & everything that you once had in the same palm of your hands seem to get faded away into cold ashes of blown-winds, people walk off their own life, world becomes anew, unknown, mysterious to anew spirits with time. Crime, sin, mayhem & every dream goes flushed out under the bridge & nothing you left to live for, anymore but... misery of gone-days, innocence flies... so yeah..
".. me not so new in the game
many have come & gone but the world still plain
the pain of being lost in plea..
indulging me deep inside even the deepest of me, badly
you can't save me til i don't even wanna save us both, (hushhhh)
masturbation became my anew world in which i'm the bait & your desperation, i lushhh!"
With the flames of desperation, Abraham & his spirit go tranquil & sailed another night in anxiety of being not so getting controlled by... urgh whatever!
Ps. The second part of "flop-artist", here's a link to visit its first version:
http://frameuponthehearts.blogspot.in/2016/03/flop-artist.html
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