xgroundzero90x

Conspicuous Cowardice begets blind infatuation. Hungry for a chance to shine he is eclipsed.    Her false fragility shrouds innocent betrayal, whilst desperately leeching rapture from his prudent nobility.  I laced him with infectious compassion, kindness hollowed out in his phantom expressions. Twas a deceitful spinal tap she drove through his silent stature. He remains your angel of music, but the real ghost lies within the sincerity of your pleas. As he sings his last of love, he returns to the shadows, and your paper face parades on.

Centripetal sustenance seizes my sanity. Kinetic calling courses through my character. Magnetic tears generate pristine pride. My orbit abounds to surround the pain. Many appreciate while deception tries chastity. Your bliss is my rapture, but exploitation inhibits enlightenment, yet my counsel will continue to nourish all.

Your serenity softens my auditory shrapnel. Frustration flurries doubtful destruction but your vocal frequency soothes my deepest wounds. Perceptive petrification deceives elative embrace while shattered premonition corrupts interpretation. Osculation floods my auscultative arousal as your innocent adoration pumps love into my crumpled pith. You are my rapture. You are my love. You are mine.

Adolescent adoration garnishes snickering smiles. Kaleidoscopic candy converts innocence to innuendo as eroded emotion consoles jilted juxtaposition. Gleeful crowing echoes with luminescent shyness. Friendship vines together as conversation bears fruitful rapture. Erratic elation teases erotic banter. A heart saturated with alleviation produces fractured fears, yet affection abolishes action. Fear not the paradox of masculine sentience; else your malady shall shred your livelihood.

Delicate wings flood the atmosphere with kaleidoscopic majesty. Emerald forests shield reclusive wonders and bashful widows. Rapture deviates secluded survival. Knotted overgrowth supports community while creation penetrates the surface. Intimidation often overlooks grace in the eyes of corrupted fear. Fizzled whispers sing to blooming beauties as voracious eyes pray for sustenance. Such rhapsodic portraits deserve respect and understanding.

Conceptual critique corners independence. Careless hatred harbors success at the bane of innocence. Those hindering the bounty of another's dream conceal rapture from the deserving. To judge that which you could not wish to live up to sanctifies true sin. Ignorance consumes the cult of idiocy so full of themselves one could wish to explode. Your mark fades on uninformed opinion as the masses devour you.

Accelerating anguish concentrates my compulsion. An obsessive morality condones chaos. Malevolent redundancy nullifies righteous intention. Corrupted rapture siphons waning brilliance to sustain discordant equilibrium. My ruptured heart presents purity albeit lesioned logic. Although love has conquered, insanity regurgitates belittling doubt. The real facade pertains to perceived perfection. Trust not a mind tainted with regression, but a heart that beats for you.

A Bittersweet Barricade Shelters Monochrome memories. Convulsive tremors verbalize inevitable truths. Consciousness fades to surrogate reality. Corrosive insanity soothes my irate inhibitions. Retrospective decay riddles my comprehension as immoral virtues consume me. Rapture has infected my rationality. Happiness is merely a symptom.

Sobriety soothes sadness while intoxication relinquishes waterfalls. Maternal monarchy pursues perfection but respect demands berated submission. Intrepid insanity fuels ferocity while ignorant enlightenment tailors escape. Dawn darkens her hazel harlequins as consumptive guilt fractures face. Bashful banter bears sympathetic shields for such is the strength of siblings. Such is rapture.

Timid Tears encapsulate bright blue oceans. Familiar friction courses through the generations. Poetic photographs paint the premise of frozen fantasies. Metronomic repetition cluster's her sanctuary. Stuck in a corridor of malicious premonition, fairytale foreshadowing provides escape. Hushed beauty sparkles against shattered reflections. The maelstrom melts her heart while concentrated longing choreographs creation. Duration dries her eyes while support sustains vitality. Consonant courage compliments blushing tenderness. Felt only through happiness, friendship will continue weaving her ever after.

Around the fire of our youth you made a promise to me To be there when I am strong To be there when I am weak To have my back even when you know I'm wrong And for you, I will do the same. When the bells ring over my head you will be standing next to me Yellow tie, purple shoes? Because we like it like that You will be the one making sure I make it to the other end You will be the one with the strong back hand If only to remind. When my first child is born, I can already see you squirm Can I hold her? Yes you should be the fourth The maid of honor already has dibs on the third Now made the Godfather. And when I am old and crank

       Double stitch, Back stitch, Hand stitch             Its all simply making me itch       This sudden sickness is going to dig my ditch             Flip the switch, lick your lips The war between "eyes" is visible from the red on her skin      Bobbeins, needles, cotton, thimbles, patterns                 Tools of the trade             Symptoms of the sickness             that stitches its self in                    The very fabric                        Of your                            Being...  

The wind happens to push the plush looking flower petals into the air Dancing they go over the place once a dance floor Long ago Left alone they dance around her Night fall not far behind The chill in the air welcomes its self to the out-door party always present Large white tents, Tables wrapped in lavender, Flickering lights from the inside of brightly painted oil lamps, Vases That once held fresh white roses, now withered Her soul remains. A sparkle half covered in red lays among the petals Laughter to horror The sound of music sometimes still lingers The groom still visits the place of his sad fate Her face fully painted

I want to toss a fist full of pocket change into the ocean... Just so I can watch it sink to the bottom and wonder where it will end up.... Will it sit in the same spot..? Forever lost under the waves..? Or will it be dug up one day, having washed back up into the sand by treasure hunting metal detectors..? Or will it end up across the great wide ocean near a different country, having been carried by the current..? I want to toss a fist full of pocket change just so I can watch it sink to the bottom and wonder about the future of my actions..... When I stop to smell the roses of life do I ever really think about what the action means?