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Literature Text
Let the endless moon eclipse the sun.
The coyotes play in the cold, vicious high.
The dry arid, land hides cold, bitter nights.
Waging war with the Aztec gods.
We dance shrouded in mystery, bathed in liquid death,
and bond forever in bloody fires consuming the Earth.
Violent, Prophetic visions fill the air; convulsing eyes flooded by red and white, and ascends the visions up to the sky spirits.
Trying to Find warm blooded desire in the desert night is just another one of the lover's plights.
-Ari Black
The coyotes play in the cold, vicious high.
The dry arid, land hides cold, bitter nights.
Waging war with the Aztec gods.
We dance shrouded in mystery, bathed in liquid death,
and bond forever in bloody fires consuming the Earth.
Violent, Prophetic visions fill the air; convulsing eyes flooded by red and white, and ascends the visions up to the sky spirits.
Trying to Find warm blooded desire in the desert night is just another one of the lover's plights.
-Ari Black
Literature
A SELF INDUCED COMA
Walked away from a head on, just the other day Pedal to the metal, running red lights Didn't see it coming, I guess I was busy Arguing with myself again, that fucking voice that just won't shut up inside my head Having it out with my alter ego The corpse I keep in the trunk Just a reminder why I'm still alive Some call it homicide I prefer suicidal maniac I'm always at a loss when I can't remember why I decided to lose it at the last moment Just like a rush to the head or a flash back, just to know what it is to live Like bashing your head in again and again into a brick wall It makes no sense at all Feeds the demons that reside within us all Calms the monsters that want to come out to play Like everyone's gotta have the last say The final word, every little piece of me
Literature
PULLED THE TRIGGER
The superficial An artificial high Synthetic lover A loaded syringe Orgasmic pills Fatal attraction Toxic blood Drug psychosis Ready to blow Wasted reality Arrested development A suicidal culture
Literature
STATIC SPACE
Outside looking in, invisible to the light Standing tall, curled up in the fetal position A shadow of my former self Void of feelings or emotions, cutting up, numb to touch Neither in between, here nor there Outside or inside the square I've reached the outer limits of nowhere Traveling without moving Tripping up, falling over myself Deep inside the recesses of my inner mind No introspection or self to speak of, no soul to keep I am the living dead an empty shell, a hollow ghost Zombified and cannibalised I tear out my heart and eat myself alive
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I am a hardcore fan of The Doors, Jim Morrison, and his poetry. I've idolized Morrison since I was thirteen and I thought of his poetry as underrated and worth a space on any poetry lover's book shelf. Everyone should check out American Wilderness, his poetry book he was writing throughout the years. While I may have not been alive during his lifetime, his influence on my mind is quite apparent to me and sculpted my tastes in music and writing. So here's to the Lizard King! I wrote this piece while inspired by his writing.
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