deepundergroundpoetry.com
Cannibal Caterpillars
These neon lights shine a vicious spectrum of vicarious violence that’s slowly suffocating me
Softly with an ice cold smile as warm as a lonesome summer day.
These aspirations and affirmations affirm the fact that my existence just might be a tremendous fallacy.
Spending every fictitious minute trying to find meaning in a moment that has long since past.
So, I gravitate towards instant gratification glorifying the simplicity that kills me
Not in the since of forever
It’s the idea of now that has lost its luster
This fate I shall lament until tomorrow because I don’t care for it today.
There are few traces of these events and memories hiding in the rooms and hallways that grace my mind
They have grown feet and threaten to track mud on my aspirations
I find myself clinging to the last shadows of something I don’t understand
A perch on the tree of ill repute
Luckily for me it’s in the forest of abundant tendencies
Is it strange that I feel so at home?
The irony is not lost
To the contrary
It is unflinching and ever present in my mind.
Elicit flashes of radiant illumination
Shining on a path of stones that seam to be as fluid as my motives.
My goals have become dreams
My dreams have turned against me
Dismantling and incinerating the broken deformity that so beautifully completes the architecture
So sarcastically I hold every shot of what could have been in its rightful place.
Softly with an ice cold smile as warm as a lonesome summer day.
These aspirations and affirmations affirm the fact that my existence just might be a tremendous fallacy.
Spending every fictitious minute trying to find meaning in a moment that has long since past.
So, I gravitate towards instant gratification glorifying the simplicity that kills me
Not in the since of forever
It’s the idea of now that has lost its luster
This fate I shall lament until tomorrow because I don’t care for it today.
There are few traces of these events and memories hiding in the rooms and hallways that grace my mind
They have grown feet and threaten to track mud on my aspirations
I find myself clinging to the last shadows of something I don’t understand
A perch on the tree of ill repute
Luckily for me it’s in the forest of abundant tendencies
Is it strange that I feel so at home?
The irony is not lost
To the contrary
It is unflinching and ever present in my mind.
Elicit flashes of radiant illumination
Shining on a path of stones that seam to be as fluid as my motives.
My goals have become dreams
My dreams have turned against me
Dismantling and incinerating the broken deformity that so beautifully completes the architecture
So sarcastically I hold every shot of what could have been in its rightful place.
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