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Hollow TrustHollow Trust
An abnormality of society;
the center of pain -
unable to trust anybody;
people - they're all the same.
Shadows around me take forms of power;
an unwelcoming sense of fear.
Controlling the thoughts, the shadows,
unable to handle the pressure.
Unable to survive the ensnare.
Rights, opportunities, are all but a mist;
an inseparable fog, with impossible density.
To live each day, by day, refusing to pry.
To die in the soul, refusing to cry.
Gatherings of thoughts, gathering of lies;
nothing makes sense, nothing to surprise.
Words through a whisper, like the taunting of death,
enraging my mind, and enthicken the mist.
Improper control; decision to seek,
particular sounds, though unable to see,
my mind, it's alone,
my mind tries to speak.
Glorys' a falsity, wandering light.
It gets hard to see when the truth is a lie.
A meek decision, a pathetic choice,
but what else to do,
when theres no where to run.
Its impossible to find
what my minds
Omnipotent SoldiersOmnipotent Soldiers
Life is measured against eternity,
needlessly wasted upon howls of insanity.
Blood rush and hysteria drains;
All this substitutes a losing war.
A solution, the problem; cause of weak mortality.
Neglect on substantial tolerance;
A limitless drifting of the splinter of bones,
the shower of blood.
Deify or disperse;
an option with hidden prospect.
Imprisoned by inequality,
soulless in this world of seclusion.
Their weapons, their minds;
an intensive expectancy to prey upon.
Pray for the living, Prey for the dead.
No sanctuary for those that are forsaken.
An effective evaluation for these hollowed beings.
No freedom, no hope;
they are all external factors,
No need to raise your brow.
These shadows of soldiers,
Pushed forward against their enforcing will.
No time to run, no time to hide.
A war, the war, is waged within the soul.
The soldiers fight this losing war,
a deteriating force among the torn.
The moon will shine upon the corpse,
the dead will nay to be reme
State of AnxietyState of anxiety
A quickening of the heart,
the blood rushing through veins,
like small winding canals.
Thoughts of paranoia and helplessness,
rushing around the mind.
A subconscious deed at times,
attempting to connect with this reality.
People and their faces pass you by;
the insisting question digs at your sides:
"Who are you, and why me?"
Communication becomes a problem,
for these entities speak not,
but speak not of these entities,
as they are only fuel for this state.
Pupils dilate as hands presperate.
Short of breath and long on time;
Where are my rights?
Where is my being?
These people, these faces,
though still a blur,
are much clearer now.
The beat is steady
and breaths controlled.
A state represented without will,
no access to withdraw;
Deadlocked in contract.
These problems will respond in time,
When shall my choices be defined?
When does my life become instinctively mine?
Subjective RealitySubjective Reality
Social solitude, vindictive sanctuary.
Comparisons of hopes and dreams are sold,
are lost, traded away.
A conflict without confrontation.
Reinforcing the perception of this
controversial virtuality, regarded as restricted.
What are you doing here?
What rights do you have?
To judge, without official permission,
the choices that are made,
that I make.
The questions we ask are pondered upon,
as time slows down,
and philosophers wander on.
To see what we want to see,
an illusion, a lie,
inflicted upon ourselves;
Merciless thoughts and images,
pills and albino white rabbits,
lands of imaginations and wonders;
An escape from reality,
is reality of the escape.
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More