echo off
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Nov 18, 2006
- Messages
- 1,212
Devide and conquer what you see,
tell me what is left for me
for i care not about what i get,
just as long as i get set.
i want a life that's easy and simple,
caring only for girls and that re-occuring pimple.
Not getting fired cause dad'll kill me if i do,
blaspheming with pride cause i don't care about what's true.
I suppose what i want in my life; what i want deep down inside,
is some kind of truth from which even i cannot find a way to hide.
Something that rules over all that exists
kinda like a god but without all the risk's
is a perfect and flawless insane entity
that entertains every single fantasy
kinda like a maximum possibility.
Fulfilling all chance without rationality
in the kind of place where even a person can live
with a hell on their shoulders that does nothing but give
when even the insane can find their fulfillment...
is that what i'm living?
deranged in concealment?
is this even an idea that came with a pop?
or is it some kind of pre-ejaculatory flop?
Even if i need to i don't want to go get the mop,
for this is the type of tickle that you just cant let stop.
----------------------
just a side note, i wrote this then came here to post it and read three other new post poem which all seemed to have a rhythm i felt impressed to have thought i had myself found. words is lovely today
tell me what is left for me
for i care not about what i get,
just as long as i get set.
i want a life that's easy and simple,
caring only for girls and that re-occuring pimple.
Not getting fired cause dad'll kill me if i do,
blaspheming with pride cause i don't care about what's true.
I suppose what i want in my life; what i want deep down inside,
is some kind of truth from which even i cannot find a way to hide.
Something that rules over all that exists
kinda like a god but without all the risk's
is a perfect and flawless insane entity
that entertains every single fantasy
kinda like a maximum possibility.
Fulfilling all chance without rationality
in the kind of place where even a person can live
with a hell on their shoulders that does nothing but give
when even the insane can find their fulfillment...
is that what i'm living?
deranged in concealment?
is this even an idea that came with a pop?
or is it some kind of pre-ejaculatory flop?
Even if i need to i don't want to go get the mop,
for this is the type of tickle that you just cant let stop.
----------------------
just a side note, i wrote this then came here to post it and read three other new post poem which all seemed to have a rhythm i felt impressed to have thought i had myself found. words is lovely today
