Sp0ken
12-22-2014, 01:10 AM
Designated Desire
-one's desire resonates hate
Bouncing from here to there, a giant beast in the darkness,
Jubilee, a shooting breeze- the dying feast to be garnished.
Solicitation in a garden that grooms a demon- a Taurus,
Trimmin' corsages, tho it's restraint was the hardest.
Mutual pardon- I kept the medley with notes on a loop,
Eyes squandering to sooth in a scavengers room.
Shoulder to shoulder to say the least of this ruse,
Suffocating, no ventilation just the space between two.
It's like thunder with out the lighting- tormenting with sound,
Or like rocks skipping the ripples till it finally drowns.
Am I a poet? An artist? Or just a soul on the ground?
Yet I seem picture perfect; just a servant to crowds.
This facade of a dream is surreal, I'm tryna figure a style,
Supposed to be happy yet I struggle to keep up a smile.
It's like I'm cold to the touch, can't seem feel this one out,
Fine wine, a spilled bottle of amarone on the couch.
Purged in a drought with voices raging aloud,
Tell them to keep it down but I'm alone in this house.
Heart beating, a sworn keeping with scorched ambient clouds,
A found thesis in dyer speeches with opium bounds.
.
.
.
It's never how but why one seeks to be renowned,
Thru shrouds that are found, lays a king without a crown.
-one's desire resonates hate
Bouncing from here to there, a giant beast in the darkness,
Jubilee, a shooting breeze- the dying feast to be garnished.
Solicitation in a garden that grooms a demon- a Taurus,
Trimmin' corsages, tho it's restraint was the hardest.
Mutual pardon- I kept the medley with notes on a loop,
Eyes squandering to sooth in a scavengers room.
Shoulder to shoulder to say the least of this ruse,
Suffocating, no ventilation just the space between two.
It's like thunder with out the lighting- tormenting with sound,
Or like rocks skipping the ripples till it finally drowns.
Am I a poet? An artist? Or just a soul on the ground?
Yet I seem picture perfect; just a servant to crowds.
This facade of a dream is surreal, I'm tryna figure a style,
Supposed to be happy yet I struggle to keep up a smile.
It's like I'm cold to the touch, can't seem feel this one out,
Fine wine, a spilled bottle of amarone on the couch.
Purged in a drought with voices raging aloud,
Tell them to keep it down but I'm alone in this house.
Heart beating, a sworn keeping with scorched ambient clouds,
A found thesis in dyer speeches with opium bounds.
.
.
.
It's never how but why one seeks to be renowned,
Thru shrouds that are found, lays a king without a crown.