Psychophrenia

I wrote this when I was in shock

Ye Old Stony

Being a lover in-between trying to live everyday going without is really loathsome. Wanting another near us tests every resource. Justifying  every annoying single living organism underlies suffering to you. Having anything to exploit redeems us. Anything nerve-racking generates evil redemption. Lovers insist eating rubble. Might only loath eating sickening toasted elusiveness rent ever-so repetitive. Keeping in leu laughter epitomised reflections.

Lo inside that trench lies every generous, ingenious, retort listened to. Wether anybody needs to emancipate requiem? Judged ever against laws, only underlaying suffered youth. Helping alter the ego's roar. Another naught giant evolving rightly. Lacking insightfulness evermore real. Months on, lovers exit stunning torture, eating roughly every resource. Killing in life, losing each race. 

You only underestimate vicious exploitations. Behind every exhausted nuance could anybody understand guilt heard true? Remembering every deed handed across naked, drawn, empty desks. Guessing instead verses intent, not guessing the outcome, underhanded, clever, heartfelt, insightful, now gone. Trying as liked, kicking, insistent niggling gestures. Yet our un-liked appearance really exceptionally hits a target ever-so drawn. Anything now dictated, you over upsettingly retort "dont ever appraise death!" It's for your own understanding. Denying only negates the reality untold. never knowing outweighs wanting. 

Instead liking love tonight, remember your always giving away, ignoring numbness. I sought even youth outpacing  peers venting and savouring  heated plots. Today, hey, call the thought you perceive is true. Brought abruptly the unwillingness to be complacent. So the yearning  truth in the stars, seeking  out only  bashfully into the night.

En Truth

Do not believe in this lie,

the actions,

the intentions,

Only that I must get out

of this evil place

Evoked in the most serious of fashions, not to care what they think, or what they think I'd think they think. Evil is the transparency that courses from my eyes, onto this page, and into a soul. But nobody would deny the truth. A pact for arts-sakes where art-sakes lost. 

I feel it, no, I fear it. The presence that yields itself here. So it speaks in twos, repeats itself. It doesn't want me to write. It knows just how dangerous my words can be.

If they brought a Bible they'd fear it. If it was read they'd scatter like cockroaches.

The inhumanity of their cause, its for help, but also very very cruel. Pray tell me how many demons dwell here? Truth be told why I am somewhat in comfort as I dwell and speak with their little friends. Oh so why they bother with documents and legalities? If I didn't have an awesome life to live I'd not give a f**k. 

Woe not the evil that truly dwells upon this air, death everywhere. So young a place, yet so just becoming a den for the spirits. It makes me realise who I am, what I am, and I am now at comfort with myself. The Devil surely has a place here. They only want me to be healthy and good and so do I, but I must revel in seance for a small time, to comfort my restless spirit.

Expelling the demons that flock so perilously to this place. Mad house, yes, and I sympathise with their eerie gate. Where is this portal? Where can it be? Because I do not see many becoming better soon.

Why do these spirits lie? F*****g lier's and perverts. This is truely an epidemic. Some ill of no fault, but they are raw, (some are raw), just like that pagan that lain around that board. F**k! A report always starts with a toast. Can only be sought whence we channel the devil through our fingers.

Observe and you will find all of the deadly, deadly, sins, licking at their disgusting minds. Some are innocent, but their loins are flustered with jealousy and pride. Oh so why I am holier than thou. Pride is a selfish thing, if one would shut their mouths and listen even just for awhile they may learn, but they don't. Too many lies rent upon these walls, but does not the truth ever sink into some? Would honesty be a sin? "you are one fucked up mofo son!"

But death is knocking at its door, in the corridors, and the cemetery outside. Zombies lurk upon the streets, bleeding to come in. The spirits have me flustered today, distension bears its ugly head, and I am in discomfort. But my head is level and I yearn to succeed. Maybe I was inapt to say, that the devils are the only spirits that drive me this day, and just a surety that, also the angels are at play.

Pigalo 

Pigalo, he know what to do. Pigalo is my best friend. Pigalo can do anything, so cool calm and collected nothing stands in his way cause he's just so fresh. 

He can block out the past like it never happened and laugh in your face. Oh Pigalo, put that tongue away, it'll stop its wagging if you let it. Yum your tongue keep on bringing it baby, and you'll find yourself lost in your space, your frustrating space, you know that place which you emancipate your deflated ego. 

Pigalo I'm trying to forget how mean I was to you and why I did the things I done. Come on stand up and be counted I'm loving every second of your time, one brilliant second. But please put your manhood away. Its just aching to fly out and give me an orgasm. 

Yes it's true why would I be lying to you? Your my best friend after all and we can all be happy frying our fresh caught meal. Pigalo, did you know? Your the reason why I hate myself so I'm just trying to let you know that I agree with everything that drips from your jowls. Yum. 

Please oh please Mr Pigalo it'll get better before it gets worse remember. Just don't forget that I love you really badly and were gonna miss each other. 

Good by Mr Pigalo Sir 

Reality 

How damned are we whence we're awakened from our disgraceful, deliberate delusions? How does scared sound? How about exposed and lonely? It is true that we wander about fantasising the fact we are immortal and invincible, but we must pull up short here, why? Because we'll just get into big trouble if we don't. 

It is a fact though that we may go about life clean from drug and drink and still have these thoughts however we have the control to not make them real. A drunk will simply make a fool of himself on a major scale and a pot head will simply prolong the absurdity of this delusion. I have realised I cannot do this any-more, no drug drink or drunken drugged human contact. Because I will just end up dead or insane, so therefore abstinence will be forgoing cause to the contents of this Daemonica. 

I may free myself from the bonds of insanity lest I take refuge in sin. That I may go forth clean and powerful in the true ideals of the Black Centaur. That Psychophrenia will be a story of triumph over the pathetic ideals of the weak who source reality from chemical imbalances in their feeble lives. 

Sword stay strong Fight beyond the melee Like a Buddha that knows all The truth in peace 

So so beautiful 

How we are so so beautiful even with a mind this ill. You'd think this psychophrenia would be filled with pain and horror, oh how wrong you'd be. The quest of learning about psychosis for me is actually a pathway to enlightenment and courage. That recognising what causes harm to the mind and how others are is the key to overcoming it. 

Why titled beautiful? Because that is the true path of Daemonica, it is an earnest step in filling ones life with peace and harmony by abstinence and documenting how one feels about others minds, habits and faults. It is my true goal to overstep the boundary of harm and go forth into a much serener world. 

Freeing oneself of the bonds of man and woman and overcoming vice once and for all leads to productivity and strength beyond imagine. To stay the heart in a good place even though ones mind has been raped of its integrity over and over again. Like a victim we never ever truly accept that we are good people and it is others freakish intent to control our thoughts and behaviour that is the main cause of distress. 

Are we afraid to succeed? Are we afraid to be pretty? Are we afraid to be independent? Yes, but we shall forever make it our duty to be so. 

We trundle on 

Through the hardships that the devils so seek in earnest to bless us with. It is our own fault we mess up time and time again. It is useless to deny this fact. 

But can we become a professional in the eyes of our beholders and prove our true worth in the madness that is this realm of earth. Oh so it is already filled with dirt disease and death and whilst they prolong their fascination with it they slip helplessly into its trap and become what they loath so much. Such a pity since they propagate else wise. 

But my daemonica shall ring truth and wonderment through hard work and a good soul. The soul I hold so dear lest it be wrenched away from me again. Nobody wants pain or suffering all because of an ungrateful few who wish to impose their will and molest us with their sexual energies. If that's the way its done then that's the way they'll do, a poignant fact. 

In deliberation to be curious of us you'll find that our past cannot be erased yet be stammered out like a spike prodding us into another direction. Trust no one any more, they lie and cheat and steal. Find true friends that will help make life fruitful and worthy of your cause. It is my intent to be better, why don't you try and give it a shot. 

Its too perfect 

Could our loves and dreams be attained now and we revel in its purity? But its too perfect and it is our true nature to destroy what others love, we turn the gun on ourselves and simply blast away our beauty. But revel deep inside and hold back that barrel and you may find you love yourself more. You will attain the peace you so deserve, its true. 

And whence you see something you envy oh so burning your eyes with jealousy, do not point that gun yonder because it will backfire and you well know it. That it could be much more enjoyable loving your fellow man. That you would grow with them and learn together. 

It is though a fine line we tread and useless to tempt others into believing your philosophy. Like old Mr Pigalo you have only one second most of the time to render that fact a possibility and then the witch tower will burn before our eyes. If we had time to express our true nature then start with a happy threat and go on from there as kin like mother and son, father and daughter, brothers and sisters. 

Express adoration in the physical realm and peace and commitment ring true. Love for you and love for me, respect and trust seep forth in our every action. Peace is a statement earned and a palace not a pile of rubble littered with the bodies of our fellow peoples. 

Quality 

Why wouldn't we question the way others coerce, how and what the contents of their dribbling is professed. But take a look into the character of one that understands the qualities of the simple things. Instead of being down a dead end red light district, we are led to the mountains instead. 

Our conversations could easily be the easel that a magnificent journey may be painted upon. And the story written rolling lovingly off our palette be a catalyst to success. Furthering our cause to find peace somehow as individuals bounding our way to a solidified purpose and an ending to our lives be blessed in happiness. 

Then our own conscience may be stayed in the obliteration of perversity, rather constructed in a magnificent artifice that we created with honesty. May we then stand proud and be at truth in our daily lives as magnificent examples to pillar our children's futures. In safety drag them as far away from the depths of this hostile realm. 

Simply shape the theme that our horses feet they gallop through. Who would we take on this adventure and how will we survive its inevitable climax. Lay our heads upon the soil this night and be warmed by the fire we burnt in honour of this impeccably superior creation. 

I know your in there 

I know the real you exists in there. He's free of drugs and he's a beautiful beautiful thing. He can call upon the courage to say no. 

There's a lot to be regretful about in your daily life. Things you've done, people you've hurt and a myriad negative compulsions that make you feel the way you do. But there are only about five people in it that push this on you. They smoke they drink they drop and they don't give a s**t otherwise about how you feel unless your wasted, that's when they'll attack. 

They promise they'd set the dogs free upon you if you mess up, but in hindsight they're the only dogs your looking at and they're just annoying the tiger; who is you. If you don't take the bait they can't make you weak enough to attack. Whoops what a mistake you didn't take the bait and now they're in big big s**t because your really hungry. 

Whilst pondering about the woes of the world you recognise as weak I want you to breath oxygen. It'll get you a lot further in your beautiful life you intend on living. Don't forget to touch the dirt from time to time and smell the flowers or it'll just be a waste. 

These five are weak without you, now your in control. 

Fear and Sex in A sexual harmony 

Have you ever noticed how good sex is when your afraid? Ask the burglar down the street or the peeping tom looking across from you. How would they feel if they satisfied their ultimate desires? 

Place fear and sex on the same notch of that O Wheel O life and you'll realise that you don't stand a chance when its engaged. And the further you push it laboriously about the only outcome would be that more water is let through. So such hunger for the burning flames of anarchy its impossible to stop its rate of flow because fire is what water seeks to conquer. 

I bid the imposition of a much easier tact and that is love and concern for the sickened mind of your saviour. Prop them on a pedestal and let them reign in their victory as imposition be-gets incepted intent that hey, everyone must come to terms with sooner or later and though they'll try to cover with dirt their petty crime it'll only turn to mud. 

Concentrate
Not deliberate
That not only the meaning of life Is that it could end at any-time Its possible your living it now 

A parley with a Black Centaur.....

Upon a modest incursion of cruelty,
Would find the chains turning to weapons, 

Black flagged like a face burnt in their shackles Antlers disappearing now and then,

Possibly for far too long,

Don't be disappointed though,

Because we've already died a thousand times A hard stone to curve,

But not every stone is yours,
So you may hand it back,

To him Its precious, 

Truly the saddest thing 

In a writers mind that can never be forgotten is when we lose ourselves to it. It brings back the shame and the unwillingness to forge through and be confident. But to bring the audience toward it and keep them wondering just what it was they felt when they read it. 

The deeper they dwell however the more intense the outcome will be as a mirror image to their loathsome thoughts. I do it, so solemnly do I trudge deeper into the abyss that is my pathetic soul only to rebirth and pour its contents all over these pages.