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Old 04-22-2015, 11:29 PM   #2
UnbornBuddha
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“The silhouette’s darkest shadow”

The hour is 1:10, but at this point time is irrelevant
Only thing that matters is to decide my penitence
A taste of the ultimate delight that heaven gives
But, like any other man I’m scared. The fright a sedative
That bestows onto the spectator’s mind’s eye my narrative.
I’ll summarize for those with blind eyes as measurements
All my life I saw children as the highlight of benevolence
So, I pursued my desire one night and never regretted it.
But that’s not entirely true, at this moment I’m a delicate stem
Not blossoming, but descending into the deepest meditative Zen
Moon and water reflection, as every neuron puts on their contemplative lens
But, not in an esoteric sense, just immersed in emptiness, rest.
In it, my constrained diaphragm lengthens in flesh,
As my personal trainer once recommended
Parasympathetic breath calms like exorcists do to devilish temperaments.
Yet, my enlightenment’s death occurs focusing on my negative wretch
A socially derived impressionist sketch based on my deprived sexual conscience

How many times do I have to say it?
My prepubescent conquests were not mere pleasure florets
I sought to actualize heaven’s garden, I never “molested” out of selfish fondness
I sought to fulfill the role of a hellish prophet
A project that required merging with innocence in the experimental process
That statement itself will be taken out of better context.
My defense has always been that as an energy worker I fondled auras,
I do not recall coming to the proximity of your daughter’s flora.

Conflict at large is said to be inherent, an inherence of lesser profit
I was never convicted, yet the loathing and peer pressure constant
Neighbors only perceive me as Pedo- toxic, a snake who sells you tonics
I tried to suppress my urges and be a normal hetero erotic through pseudo-logic.
My androgynous anima has its own vendetta often; its animal wounds are chronic
I’m told pandemonium doesn’t judge, so I look to its promise
So now I’m in this platform leaning one hip on this umbrella object
A tool I only carry for show, as you can see from the weather’s calmness.

Don’t fault me, I’m here aren’t I?
Subconsciously confessing topics, a malefactor with offensive content
Then again, everything is relative at the desolate end,
Where you’ll be dragged as resident guest depends on what resonates best.
For not one eminent friend comes to help when stuck in the material web;
Burdens have turned me voiceless, my spirit infected with ethereal strep
Contagious thoughts that hurt others is like walking in a bacteria’s steps.
I’m halfway between rational and the brink of delirium’s edge
Hmmm, my regularly punctual train is late, what a mysterious event.

Ah! I hear the train; I head to my melancholy destiny
At least, I’ll smell like Bach flower essence remedies
Walking forward, I bid myself my farewell,
Jumping into the tracks, my plan bears well
The moving train never stills. But my impacted nerve cells will.
As my plasma spills, I feel a scattering of all my stagnant germ cell ills
But, I’m still sick & I foretell I’ll see you, in the netherworld’s stairwell.
And so the darkest part of the silhouette’s shadow killed.

Last edited by UnbornBuddha; 04-23-2015 at 12:15 AM.
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