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Essence Pieces

Heedful needle press the repress
The thread spindled from the abstruse truth now uncouth
To piece for peace the quilt entitled me
I was conscience of this discordance of passion to fashion each fragment and element went to and meant for this quilt, but then, but then…..
Individual pieces, side by side there creases, unveil with no avail, the detections of there imperfections
One division seems like ribbon
Another written with and ridden with deftly lies
The others just broken ties, bitten with flickered flames of human games
And now the quilt is asunder and an obscene scene of demean
Agleam with grim
And I begin to rip each seam clean
Fear running through my bloodstream
Because these bits are me and I can’t look too closely

They are by far
Nothing admirable
Simply pitiable
Blaring the incoherent cause I’m ignorant, serving the deserving with no endearment, seeing others flaring at my constant judgment, drowned by my insecurities, filled with incivility, just for others, at that in fact, cause I don’t really like keeping friendships in tact
I’m inequitable, deprivable of recognition
Me, always deceiving and leaving only breathing
Undependable, detestable, seizing what you’re un-giving and living
Tease you, never please you
I’m unmoving and un-soothing and I’m brooding
These realities perceive to be fatalities that I resist because they’ll make me exist as a masochist
I won’t take the anguish of each imperfect bit as they sit
Or relinquish and extinguish their hidden ifs, whats, hows, whys, or whens, so I can quench the clench of this tightened chest
I can’t accept what I detest
Or even peer at them for fear of them, and what they reveal as they peal away at the seal of me
So now I’ll be standing in silent space searching for a taste with haste of my being
In that outside real world


But guess what?
My eyes were shut
When searching in the outside real world

I’ve contrived the deprived void I deplore before my sight as an abysmal night
Allow it to encompass me in sunless, the sphere of fear of truth it entails
Every reality a fatality to my pride, so I abide to the rule of a fool, that it was unseen, un-splintering the serene
In its un-exist I won’t persist
I don’t want to know the glow of the real and its feel
And I fill this void with acrid acid bending me placid
Every time I’m less than mortal, with no moral, with yearn of concern for only myself
Every time my teeth are a dam walling the frothing, the natural
Every time I don’t bend the lip and tongues tip to form the form unworn that retains attention and mention “listen” to the complication “realize” what lies before my eyes
The truth should have force broke my teeth, spoke through my gum
Become a force out my mouth, rouse the discordant truth, when most important
Yet I kept my mouth shut like a bandaged cut
Should have spoken as a token of this friendship
And I owe my apologies with guilty fees to those persons first

I didn’t get to focus on the honesties of the world, they weren’t bound to me, saw by me, so it can contour me
I didn’t absorb the horde and melancholy chord of others singing
I didn’t immerse in the perverse and already figured accord of the world

And guess what my closed eyes caused?
I’m now unidentifiable

Why not tell me who you want me to be?
Because see, I’m hollow inside, and I abide by the existing manners of others
Un-resisting, consisting of yielding
I live through someone else’s realizations, let them mold my moralizations
Encase me, phase me, erase me
I hold it in bold, all that I’m told and let it mold me as I fold in peace and harmony that I don’t have to find the real part of me
Finally letting others something be the heart of me, letting go the final blow of independence with this
A profusion of confusion is the human soul of me
Other words are spoken from my pallid palette
I’m a disarray, a mixture of other’s uniqueness
I don’t want to be this, a recyclable
It’s detestable, un-pick able from the masses
People state what I debate
I’m me, a person so out of the crowd and loud
But I’m just like that, because I’m a fix mix of others traits
Each one mixing with another and the other like oil and water
Separate at all times, incapable of uni-forming
I’m a mess, is what I’m informing

What do you suppose happens behind closed lids?
You compose and still and doze, blending into the dark
You do the probable and inescapable, the human thing called dreaming
And are you pondering and longing for what’s happening then?
Truth begins to seep in like acid swift through the thinnest material, boxes the limitless and imposes on and closes up the abundant and distances
These truths seep into the dreams and turn them to memories
These dreams turned memories are all my secret spots with no stops in my being
These dreams turned memories are the glimpses of instances I saw or sneak of a peak of what lay around me and in me
These dreams turned memories have broken the unspoken and the void I diploid on myself
These dreams turned memories go about building that quilt for me
And that’s acceptable, that’s fine, it’s alright
I shouldn’t have deflected but just accepted at first the burst of truth
Because I can’t refuse the truth that does not diffuse
Because ultimately, It will always find me, face me, and become a part of me




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