zphoenixdownz

At night when I stay up So late it bleeds early Sometimes I feel the dead People that I knew when They were alive as you are Reading this bullshit or... Me thinking about writing it Cuz the typing is habitual The letters are organized Unlike the rushing thoughts Rapids of the reddest river The smell of iron rusting Envision a fresh book A newborn dream skin Tattooed with evil P words Promise, Potential, Patterns Of bad behaviors beguiling us Into the tunnel of destiny Holing hopeful horizons Into early graves Reciting the names Like a record player Needle dropped On a tree stump Sounding out rings

Most people won't give a fuck when you die They'll walk over you on the sidewalk  They'll order food while you catch fire They'll get a cocktail with a lobbyist who Just secured a quicker way to make more Money Per Kill (MPK)™ in some desert Where the oil makes death have value Cloth and metal mean all lives matter But only if they shatter their dreams And trade the shards for a coffin Shaped like a cog with an epitaph: Product of China Assembled in Mexico Marketed Relentlessly in America With Machine Learning gleaned from Antisocial media and warrantless wire- Tapping... tapping at the window It's time to go, but no one else will know Black bags shroud every single head of The oblivious living and the forgotten dead

Notre délicieux amour... J'espère que le matin étendra sa couverture sur tes rêves les plus doux comme le caramel sur ta glace. Votre lumière me manque le plus lorsque le soleil culmine dans un lit de nuages. Je me souviens d'avoir posé ma tête sur ton sein pendant que le corps céleste descendait. Dans ton coeur, j'entends le rythme de la musique que nous avons faite ensemble. Le tempo de mon sang s'accélère à cette pensée. Je vois ton visage au coucher du soleil. J'ai envie de la nuit où nous jouons à nouveau. On rêvera de toi et moi, servi avec de la crème.

we'd sit in the back @ Cafe Stella tapping keys at neighbored tables we'd trade bullshit or philosophy trying to catch a fresh perspective we'd sip coffee and talk music then slip out for a cigarette two years gone, you still show up knocking at my door when i'm bored or mewling outside my window like a kitten that won't be ignored or cracking my skull with a hammer to get a better look at the gore it's a nightmare in the sky it's ominous noises underground it's bombs that refuse to burst it's babies that learn to curse it's an electric chair joke about choking on that body's smoke "the world has gone to hell, Jeff" "but it was already there sometimes" yeah, man. when you right, you right. but i can't help this feeling that nobody else can die tonight or tomorrow or the day after without me crawling into the crater to cuddle myself at the epicenter because if you know, you know and your ass would be down here now in the mud and the snow and the blood of all who have gone