A deal to be done for destruction will doth beckon an edge on the day
An hour less to enjoy the sun in all the fading light may offer in salvations way
The clock that eats my time hath ticked and tocked into every second I see it die away
The panic yet to come calls a storm on the horizon saturated with grey and hailing clouds
Hope launches one more desperate plan in facing odds a gambler would give no eyes
Six foot of rope emerges from a darkening day’s ditch of six foot deep
In that rope a noose has began to tie tight the binds by which optimism chokes
How horridly the time flies into the lessoning hours of where the deal turns downward bleak
How the silence of the mind falls screamingly into the fatal closing act of an impending end
All consciousness falls numb to the final moments
As all in the eternities game plays on an act of impossible
Beyond the act of finality a fated thing is to survive
To feel fatality and know that the end eludes this mortal hurt
Humour is subjective
Depression is just plain depressing!
Mirror shy away, beg not to reflect this feeble excuse for human fail
I hath lacked the inclination to take the image shown darkly hued for an age into time
Show not the venom overflowing beneath that false gaze
Show not the frown locked into every stress line
Show not the form I fade to when ghosts haunt
I am all an image fractured to hide the inherit fright that has become of all that once shined
Mirror shy away and sample not the flesh corrupting around these bones
What deathly bleak features I see in reflected flash are too much a reminder of the hope I lost
So serene the calm waters project to eyes the subtle ripples of an underlying event, to eyes unaccustomed it would be innocently conceived such shallow ripples were of an occurrence so slight as a weak breath. But sight aligned with lesser things and darkly hazardously truths do see the motion as a thing to be beware, no joking tongue of what destructive forces lurk so deep as to reach that far and cause still the surface infraction of noted disruption.
I lay a thousand hidden thoughts of what nature a dark god would tremble at the idea of in a thousand graves beneath all the calming waters tranquil glow, each and every slimy tendril sliming its way over honest intent. To all above the surface graces politely drawn airs to wisp and whirl in pretty collated movement, the storms funding such iceberg tipped reactions when deeper emotions hath torn a world apart in cruelly laughing jest.
So see as much of a delicate flowers petals as one would readily wish to engage in merrily hued sight, be oblivious to the soul sucking tormenting processes that feed its colour of shiny black and poisonous shades of yellow. I will know of worlds fractured so delicately perfect in ever corrupted chasm running to whence the tearful screams of suffering do create choirs of angelic voices, a root to the thing that when seen in light does faintly resemble the pitched angelic tones of falsely echoed joyfulness.
Stability an illusion ever under cast behind the veil by inherit instability of what my darker nature feeds upon and flourishes freely into corners, so tortured the light feels more pain than my own lacking positivity. The gift it is to not feel, the curse it contains so cruelly mocking as to only feel anger but therein lies a crucial flaw within which another post I will explore.
“A person’s posture can sell an entire library of insight into their character, chapters so subtly implied in the slightest of actions”
I lean, not slouch, slump or support myself against but lean on surfaces. When I’m leaning it’s a sign that I’m safe in an environment and at work it’s a sign of control, the ability to control a room from one key location with a singular tone of authority. The action also implies a safety about my mood, an inherit security for those surrounding me as the trigger finger is resting idle at the side of my readily unfriendly temper.
The very activity of letting every muscle falter into relaxation is a thing to spread the warming calmness through my body; an equally important activity is how I resume upright motion. Too quick and assertive and I could be on the verge of a volatile reaction, slower motion an indication of mellowed resistance and a composed disposition.
The best photo of me that I can recall is me leaning against a pillar, unaware there are even cameras slyly pointing lenses in my vicinity!
So what about you:
Do you hunch in a repressed posture of stress or frustration?
Do you spring from one arena of action to another in energetic pose?
Do you shape yourself into those dark corners of the room in shaded insecurity?
However your body naturally accustoms itself, I say make it yours and do it right
Diagnostic program running…
Status request on systems pending…
Sanity; Error detected. Definitions too corrupted to properly initiate diagnostic
Functionality; Percentage beyond standard range… 5%. -56%. 123% .conflict in percentage range Repair attempted…
system overriding corrective measures
Normality; Core files corrupted. Source files not found in system
Error… alternative values asserting base parameters
Sociability; -113%… negative percentage detectedkl.io..pojm… [Alternative values overriding] comparatively positive percentage detected
Social Filters; Multiple code sections missing… filter malfunctions 2. 6. 8. 16. 19. detection algorithms overloaded
Emergency shutdown of compartment analysis
Stress; 999% evident in base systems… normality core files saturated… sociality deconstructing.jkkl.oimh… [Contaminated values overriding] deconstructing… no error detected Diagnostic program concluding…
Report; Core files corrupted. Normality definitions misaligned. Sociability voided. Social Filters borderline functional. Stress at fatal levels
Status; Impossibility Recommendation; Delete prograkkl.kj89..kjkkk [Alternative values overriding] FUCK LIFE. With bells on it. Exclamation mark
Polite expression of negativity in an air of well written wordidge
Poetic verse of complexly constructed forms to express a hint of liking razor blades
Speak easy in lyrical flow of casual colloquialisms for sake of free wheeling insanity
Darkest humour bleakly mis-iluminating the less likable aspects of deepest damnation
Depressive glory to descend to ditches every ill word written in overshadowed moods
Fully developed suicidal musings to cast shade into corners once only inhabited by death
If you reach this stage we would like to know what hell looks like!