Finding Alone.

People, faces;
Absorb this time and place,
And the words they speak-
Set the pace,
Wreck on discourse.
They wreck what holds them up.
It is what they seek.
Take what comes forth,
Week at the knees as this might be.
Watch us pass.
Watch them pass.
There they pass, watch-
One after another.
Relax.
This time will not last.
Inevitable fact will pervade the at hand task.

Engaging conversations lack these days. I seek more than what is before me, but i fear i am not looking in a manner that is suitable. I just expect shit to fall down in front of me. Sometimes. There is more i lack and seek, and also unsuitable ways to obtain them are prevalent. I do expect others to come to me. Always. Always. The time has come to change this.

Sickly nerves lust for silky skin; desires, sweet, gentle passion. Fresh, but not new to this fountain of youth.

The body's unrivaled aesthetic toils onward-
Uncharted territories await my arrival-
Of mind and body bound by time,
Materialistic stipulations of one's God and law,
Scenes of saw-
Cutting to raw.
The child's desire is wrecked,
Raped rivers designated to carry tortured souls to their untimely fate.
Maternal instincts left behind,
The body is separated from will,
And the sound of this mill churns air to chill wind.

And yet i seek to regain
What was separated from here,
So long ago.
Indentured servant no longer-
Live by day to day standards
As they stand on the surface,
Pervading all who come to close to -
See a dying son's demise.
Redirection is not desired-
Necessary is Rebirth through reprisal.

Desire does not sleep as sight begins to fade.
And a certain lust awaits when this particular body wakes.

Echoing through these halls looms a voice.
Creation surrogates the will of fate,
Simply by forgetting the steps after birth.
Fading,
Fading.
Screeching a response.
It is not returned.

Garbage suffocates growth,
But this beat manages to surpass the discrete path of discourse beyond the corridor.
Ahead.
As with all enlightened things,
bonds long time lost and forgotten will never be conveyed to meaning.

Ghosts move from place to pace,
the transitions of tracks traveled by those who wish to hear.
See?
The pacifier on ears?

Displace this taste and pleasure as one another converse,
Debate,
And relate experience.
Featured and displeased will the speculators be.
The time for us to leave has come.