Chapter one;The unborn within.
Having seen a lot makes one quite not scared nor scary.
Over the course of my life though not long enough,I've preferred not to mendel with emotions all feelings in that matter just to secure this obstinate yet heart of mine.
Having defined sanity and its vices,I've learned that we humans are sired from the one uncontrollable cycle of insanity that tricks us to fuel it while we become weak and rot as we build it.
Today, as I suckle to the whatever remaining shads of this broken yet circling wheel,realization has succumbed and surfaced in my mind.
It's not what but who feeds us that creates satisfaction to our ever empty Wells that are dry and full of cronies.
Having listened to a number of songs,my heart has been raised and broken more than I can count.
Mine soul has not learned to cooperate but has adapted to the now and then but mostly fantasing mind.
In there,I've had all the world evolving and though vivid to mine reality how expectant, nothing has been conceived.
And tonight the same poetry will echo again;
Went to bed with fears
Then woke up with tears
How mine heart was pierced
By those desires that swam
Untapped in mine inners
Not a breathe was felt nor lost
And for the unborn,mine soul
Weaped and teared.
Sometimes I look at the sky not adorably but with jealous that of the wind that smuggly pushes away even the beautiful clouds bored by it.
But a thing about malice is that sometimes even the wind itself ends up being used up by the same sky to set away those clouds to more needed horizons.
If production was easy,who wouldn't be holding dear.I succumb to wounds those that I afflict myself break mine heart depress my mind and this soul keeps on bleeding.
I feel pangs of burning desires .Everyday they fill and end self destructing myself only to find my self going to bed and the next day there's is a repeat.
For long I've suppressed emotions not knowing that I've been killing the only thing that matters in life.Connection.
Tomorrow ain't one unless today is handled well and well,now having shut the only thing that makes me human, am neither less nor more.
My paranoia and self declared freedom that seems quite not since I chose not to bore what matters continues to drain me and though a voice in me says it's not too late still I hang to my old self reminiscing of a past that is quite gone.
There Is choice in words.Although ours toungues spit different, it's our mind that is quite the factory of all we say.
There is always that second voice one full of pure intentions but,since we are the clones of our past tortured apparitions, our lips move with the will of toungues of men and when we are not spitting venom,poison drools off our mouth like mucus from a slithering snail.
Today ,a universe has been built in me one which I can't see through.
I've dug to the deepest and to be true this hole I can't fill.
This void inside of me craving to be filled by what already exist can be my only exit but, there's that.But.
The fear of opening up to this new world runs deep and far than the Congo River.
I feel stranded and asphyxiated by my own dreams that never turn into a vision. Am lost,unborn within.
It's rear to see a crippled bird.One with flaps of an eagle but aura of a crow.Sometimes I can't help but wonder the fantasy in a fetuses mind and the secrecy let alone the silence.