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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Adjacent To Complacent Refracted Murderous Actionsdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: HisNameIsNoMore
    ASL Info:    28 - Male - Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    3.08 - 75/182/217
    Words: 416
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 511
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2490



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsAdjacent To Complacent Refracted Murderous Actionsdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Comatose dreams come round and round, tilting back in R-E-M-
    The sound of breathing does nothing but stir and your hair will part.
    Shadowy little hands creep, over and through every inch of your body, tingling goosebumps stand up with moribund, soon to be a cadaver for someones spatula and scapula.
    These are the realities, church bells play a song for that day you cease to be.
    A psychotropic induced state of panic, a cold sweat that seeps through the skin, what happens if you just laugh at it falling further down this elevator shaft within.
    Promising to walk on water, faith that day went right out the roof, torn away a hurricane of absolute doubt in proof.

    News broadcasting slaughters, just to see what happens when this psychopathic murderer stops to ponder.
    The truth is we play the part in our own downfall, the alligator that Jesus walked on to prove that he could walk on water.
    Can't seem to believe in one more second of this rant goes right to the point that we're all adjacent to this violent ringing beat.
    Thump, just thump thumping to burst open on the spot.

    Cracking open eyes, a blur, a waver of that fate that creeps up and rapes.
    Hours pass when all you can hear is the ticking of a dead clock, broke and misconstrued.
    Deep breaths and hands that twitch, a yet a steady resolve always seems to drop the ball.
    Rushing over to brush over the blushing face that seems startled, yet not afraid.
    Door locks and the curtains drawn, probing in questioning manner to understand you and why you sleep.
    A knocking that seeps into the flesh again it starts to smell oh so sweet.
    The door burns and smoke begins to blur your lungs in again, this time the poison that sweeps is much more vile than a synthetic sleep.
    Voices, the voices have returned once again but this time music is comes from their human parts, cracking and slashing so wickedly.

    It just keeps calling, this lingering violent history, what you think you see is just images imagining vivid lying images that seem to almost play to your senses null and dumb down.
    The world you wish to see is nothing but a nightmare having beautiful dreams of the adjacent violent murderous intentions that comes drifting through narcotic induced addictions.
    Erase the numbing of senses and fall back off the ladder into a mattress of feathers and nails.




    Submitted on 2010-04-19 00:23:00     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      That is a helluva title you've got there. Bout half way through I got all tangled up into and decided I should half a peek at this...

    Your opening line, in particular, is great. I like this 'tilting back in R-E-M-' very neat. Kudos. And as the title might imply, this is creepy. Makes me think of night terrors, and how very real they can be.

    One suggestion might be to play around with the format. I like that it is prose but maybe it could be broken up a little bit more?

    Just a thought.

    -Emeya
    | Posted on 2010-04-19 00:00:00 | by Lady of Shalott | [ Reply to This ]


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