New
Bluelight Crew
Unfounded agitation only leads to sharper teeth. Mental pulsing drives my sanity mad. I only feel the pain in nothing, waiting for my ended softness to pierce the unpadded core of my teased, soaked, swollen mind. The ocular expression compresses my corneas and squeezes out the pessimism inside.
Torture, sweet torture! Is this my catharsis for evading ill will and promoting peace and respect? Is this karmic balance in its true form? Only after a good, honest day does my soul ejaculate all the tiny irritations that conclude my mere humanity! Coiled springs, bursting from my chakras, piercing the souls of my muscles-THIS is how the primitive beast in me wishes to unleash it's true form!
Yes, hatred of the untouchable spilling into my senses, that can be the only sense to make from this! Disregarded prejudices and unexplained betrayal of my heart's desire must be lashing out against it's carbon-calcium prison, communicating the only way it knows to attain results-distracting tics in an attempt to trigger obsession.
Obsession is the force behind ventures of the souls, the one common spark between vastly conflicting ideals, the very petroleum of this vehicle we all like to call ambition. I've ambition, but no obsession. Is this the backlash of unrealized dreamers, the anathema to a life of leisure? This unfounded agitation must be the generator of all ventures, great and small, for who could stand idly while their soul rattles it's bars? Especially a soul as determined as mine to shatter and vaporize the very vessel it houses itself in!
Torture, sweet torture! Is this my catharsis for evading ill will and promoting peace and respect? Is this karmic balance in its true form? Only after a good, honest day does my soul ejaculate all the tiny irritations that conclude my mere humanity! Coiled springs, bursting from my chakras, piercing the souls of my muscles-THIS is how the primitive beast in me wishes to unleash it's true form!
Yes, hatred of the untouchable spilling into my senses, that can be the only sense to make from this! Disregarded prejudices and unexplained betrayal of my heart's desire must be lashing out against it's carbon-calcium prison, communicating the only way it knows to attain results-distracting tics in an attempt to trigger obsession.
Obsession is the force behind ventures of the souls, the one common spark between vastly conflicting ideals, the very petroleum of this vehicle we all like to call ambition. I've ambition, but no obsession. Is this the backlash of unrealized dreamers, the anathema to a life of leisure? This unfounded agitation must be the generator of all ventures, great and small, for who could stand idly while their soul rattles it's bars? Especially a soul as determined as mine to shatter and vaporize the very vessel it houses itself in!
