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"The Shrine of My Mind."

What are they all for: these scraps of
paper all over my side of the bed, on
the floor
Scattered on my nightstand; an endless,
profuse deluge of thoughts, spilling out
of my head onto paper, through my
comrade, the pen

They say, "It's Mightier than a Sword,"
and, by it, I've unsheathed it and written
many a word that's spilled, "My Own
Lives Blood,"

They say, "Some Men, were Born so that
by the Sword, they could End Lives,"
But, I think that I was Born so that by
this Weapon I can, "Write out Life,"

I feel its Desire within me, Compulsively
yearning to be Unleashed and I Swear,
I always give in; therein, is my Sweetest...

Release

At the top of my head, are a few pill bottles;
choice and select one's that seem to aid
the most: through usage of them, I can
look into my Ghosts Eyes; and, on the small
table that sits at my pillows left a Mirror,
into which I occasionally, "Skrye," via...

"Chalklines," arranged it perfect symmetrical
rows

Just for when I want to ascend rapidly, only
to come back down and walk a little bit
deeper in, "The Below,"

Bottles Surround me like Sentry's that Guard
my Sanctuary; my Shrine

My Minds, "Holy Place," where I can Transcend
time and place

The empty ones hold a candle in the top well
and have become more stories to tell;

The wax flowing down their long lithe sides
make me think of a life who has been burned
out and all that's to be seen, now only covers
an empty silhouette

The Carcasses of the spirits/bottles, I've killed
also make excellent book-ends; I usually
prop them against the ones that I read whilst
complimenting their story with the proper
drink;

At least that's how my mentality sees perceives
it:

Respectively
Written by hungrypan74 (Dantalyon)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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