WK8: Soulstice (2-3) vs. timeless (3-4) [Soulstice wins, 6-1.]

timeless · 11-24-2014, 01:20 AM

Topic #1
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Seeing The Dead Through Capitalism

Physical presence? Check. Mental left in Davy Jones' Locker.
A daughter's homesick, singing 'Please, take me home father!'
Lady knows why her parents are sailing three sheets to the wind.
Lately though, dollars spent prevailing receipts from within.
She weeps and begins to sell her soul for agony and hate.
Depleted, herein lies the bodies of Abby-Lee and Jake.
Sad, we leave irate. I can't handle a funeral's pressure.
Madly, I escape the feeling and make humorous gestures.
Mirrored images have me locked, docked with my knotted anchor.
Due West, I spot a stranger who looks to be my doppleganger.
Hot, but I cropped my anger, put on a border, edged it in photoshop.
Cloaked my frame in body armor just to pretend to be Robocop,
expecting to be approached with a low blow oh so cold-cocked.
Paranoia employer that my mind's spite coat holds. Solo thoughts.
Once he spotted me, he said he knew of me through the grapevine.
Food for a gas gauge light, feeling empty from stage fright,
maybe I should stop talking to the mirror and just face Life.
Advancement one week, next we stage handshakes for food stamps.
Week after that she's pregnant and trying on some new pants,
all the new shoe brands. I loathe greed, I only need two hands.
Healthy and ambitious, lower-class wealthy and damn delicious.
Attitude vicious, explicit. Attic room, meet the livingroom and sink in.
All your walls are closing in, mine are being torn down.
No need to spend time focusing on why I was born proud.
The idea of 'Life' spawns from a redundant imagination.
Lifestyles, mad hype. Pawns of a chessboard's modernization.

11-24-2014, 01:20 AM	#3
timeless past tense Join Date: Nov 2013 Location: NJ Posts: 1,623 Battle Record: 22-39 Rep Power: 4341329	Topic #1 - - - - Seeing The Dead Through Capitalism Physical presence? Check. Mental left in Davy Jones' Locker. A daughter's homesick, singing 'Please, take me home father!' Lady knows why her parents are sailing three sheets to the wind. Lately though, dollars spent prevailing receipts from within. She weeps and begins to sell her soul for agony and hate. Depleted, herein lies the bodies of Abby-Lee and Jake. Sad, we leave irate. I can't handle a funeral's pressure. Madly, I escape the feeling and make humorous gestures. Mirrored images have me locked, docked with my knotted anchor. Due West, I spot a stranger who looks to be my doppleganger. Hot, but I cropped my anger, put on a border, edged it in photoshop. Cloaked my frame in body armor just to pretend to be Robocop, expecting to be approached with a low blow oh so cold-cocked. Paranoia employer that my mind's spite coat holds. Solo thoughts. Once he spotted me, he said he knew of me through the grapevine. Food for a gas gauge light, feeling empty from stage fright, maybe I should stop talking to the mirror and just face Life. Advancement one week, next we stage handshakes for food stamps. Week after that she's pregnant and trying on some new pants, all the new shoe brands. I loathe greed, I only need two hands. Healthy and ambitious, lower-class wealthy and damn delicious. Attitude vicious, explicit. Attic room, meet the livingroom and sink in. All your walls are closing in, mine are being torn down. No need to spend time focusing on why I was born proud. The idea of 'Life' spawns from a redundant imagination. Lifestyles, mad hype. Pawns of a chessboard's modernization.