I see it all the time
When people carelessly toss their trash
Or struggle for a metaphor to
Describe their broken hearts
Distorted lives
Torn apart
As they drag their desperate flesh
Over miles of broken shards
What used to be windows, or bottles
What once contained pints of beer
Lives filled with fear
Eventually breaks and remains
On the pavement
Displacement
Doomed useless
Unless intention is to cause harm
To invoke the metaphorical broken shards
Shattered glass directly to the heart
Lays in pieces all over the concrete
I see it all the time
When people carelessly toss their trash
shifty vision in the midst of an inch of wisdom
nuclear fission in the brain so loud i cant listen
it figures what sticks is always to save face
meanwhile...
i watch with a taste of indifference the decay of the entire human race
the entire fucking world hurries so fast to just wait
and the weight of the feral minds are soon going to collapse
collapse and disintegrate those that we inadvertently complicate
but this fate has always been in the back of our minds
gripped by endless time
never even aiming for such a destiny to unwind-
i can only observe what only i have heard
stirred up blurs that swerve and return
murmurs and faint sounds and subtletys
did someone speak or am i hearing things
again and again i wanna know wtf was said
i wanna show whats in my head but no...
the highs and the lows only i can know
i throw myself for a loop a few times daily
im afraid my observation skills are failing
if i've portrayed anything less, im not saying
im propped up against a 2-way mirror
looking in on myself looking in on myself-
self-transforming machine elves by DavidAtwell, literature
Literature
self-transforming machine elves
don't get distracted
by the patterns of activity
as you climb-
keep soaring forward
until you blast through
to the other side-
a whole new world
where time is swirled
and the entities are so happy you've arrived-
speaking in objects,
you must remember their message,
because it will deeply affect your life-
versatile forms of lyrical functions by DavidAtwell, literature
Literature
versatile forms of lyrical functions
mixes in with the least of things
like the feverish heat it brings
standing there watching time slow
inside that stare its so well known
its all around its swirling out here
so it turns out i'm an imagineer
i disappear from faulty retrospect
never take for granted introspect
i suspect things always work out
or serendipity will dissipate doubt
how nice is perpetual high spirits
i'm fearless like, "i won't hear this."
only thing that i hold sacred
is the unimaginable way to take it
meaningful waves will flood you
words are real and ring the truth
never let fallacies slip and contort
face reality don't sell yourself short
remember to always laug
confused thoughts
is my bad habit
its like
getting lost at sea
criss-crossing the Atlantic
rogue waves
crash
and roll
through my brain
clobbering vessels
with torrential downpours
of rain
insubstantial pronouncements
of strain
is my thinking
i wave goodbye
to comprehension
as i'm sinking-
these random faces of insignificant specks
all drastically chasing their own shadowy deaths-
progression is stealing my breath, because a destiny of nothing left
has got me collapsing under the debt that i owe to myself
but theres nothing left-
theres nothing left, look through to me,
i got a few screws loose, but thats nothing new to me-
i'm agitated, over-imaginative, and lacking a sensible way to explain this
what the fuck is going on i cant take this
swervin' out my brain, burnin' out the day-
this is a nice way to see the night go away-
im thinkin ultra-clear but all signs say braindead-
im feelin' so vivid although my swayz stay faded-
lets see how many "wtf's happening"'s i got left: none-
this is why at times i dont mind clouds blocking the sun-
the entire sky can peep me leavin my gaze up there-
my tired mind needs peace due to drastic collapses of care-
nevertheless, my inner fire still smolders-
unaffected by the worlds gradually gettin colder-
i just shake the dust off my mothafuckin shoulders-
continue to rack my brain about a Golden Moment Smoker-
fleeting moments
you set me free
skippin' off the tops of trees
past the point of where eyes can see
it nags at me to feel the rush
of falling so fast i recoil and
fall back
reset my internal hourglass so
we can both feel that thunder-
crash... so naturally comes that
proper way to act, so expect me
to properly react if, and when, i
feel wind screaming, blasting
at my face......
the heart of comprehension by DavidAtwell, literature
Literature
the heart of comprehension
some of them are crumbling
empty words with no substance
they stand the test of nothing
pay no attention
to these
as they roll in the wind
*existence
is pure manipulation*
their aim is str8 decimation
of logic
and clarity
the reality of which
is fucking scaring me
social engineering tactics
based on learned behaviors
and patterns
striking the heart
of comprehension-