

Something old. Something new.I feel the dire urge to seize this moment of tranquility, but the future is saturated with hazy paranoia which bleeds over into the present. It holds me down. I took a deeper look into an acquaintance titled the new world's Mephistopheles and saw that wit was only his face. That which infatuates his mind is something different and like pure tattered silk. I shall look up to him today upon entering my judgment and the knighting of my all too tangible sentence. Confinement freed me once. It can do it again. I have accepted and forgiven the rusty daggers of the new world. Now I know. Let it be. Let it be. This mother Mary resides in the stalenesSomething old. Something new.


I amI am the cover-bound freedom promised to my fate holding back by breaking down left with colors lost behind the kitsch of pitch black paint.I am
I am the killer of every breath of reason, sentenced and confined to static prison, caught in the repeated murder of love's crusifixion.
I am the wielder of creation's bloodless blade cutting sunken eyes of broken birds driven by the belief of destined flight betrayed .
I am my future's sacrifice. I am the white raised by the surrendered and glory's sin which intoxicates the victorious.
ladder
trees
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Art is Air
come on submit more of uer great work
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Art is Air
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*FredG <> =Picture-Maker
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William Blake
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Eventus stultorum magister. avvie base
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The truth is...this...will you accept the truth if it comes?
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