Nalateshnia

I so love the concept of pain. It is a concept so complex and so universal that its simplicity transcends all mediums and even time itself. Its bittersweet taste lines the mouths of the seasoned soul and the tepid spirit alike, simultaneously enlightening and humbling each. Every cut forcing you to delve deeper and deeper into your well, into your soul for strength. Slowly, meticulously forcing your roots deeper to quench the fire only to make you stand taller, more resolute in the face of life's daily hurricanes. Yet oh does it burn and burn deep. There is no denying the razored line between the nourishing growth and the devastating death of

(Tick Tock, Tick Tock) The broken clock that continues to swing (Tick Tock, Tick Tock) Distorted, dismantled, time loses meaning (Tick Tock, Tick Tock) Life never ending, light never ceasing (Tick Tock, Tick Tock) the lust for life eternal consumes you (Tick Tock, Tik Tock) Until...(abrubt silence -or- a dirfting off sound of a clock dong) You search for an exit, desperate to break free *Free from the lies, from the hate, the deception, the lust, the power hungery. To break away into the abyss, to escape the fate of this cosmic debochery, defication, perversion of life itself. To escape the horror, the sin, the corruption, the brok

The child stood, splotches of red splattered across her pink sundress. But she didn't flinch. She didn't even blink as the grotesque scene unfolded before her eyes. A cold, contemplative resolve flitted across her face right before she spoke. "You have come far Nari. Such control. Such Dexterity. Your mother would have been proud." The child jumped down from her station above the arena, an invisible force slowing her landing at the last second, kicking up a wall of dust. The champion in the middle was immediately thrown against the far wall some 20 meters away, the legions that had fallen to her blade scattering into the bleachers above.

Tis mine soul, mine heart that quarrel so over my past. Whilst one screams for redemption as a spoiled child screams for ice cream, the other stoically stands its ground, weaving elegantly the tale and promise of providence and fate. Perhaps it is their varied age that is the vocal point of such hostilities, the exaggerated gap between their thought that drives them and boils their blood for each other. A foolish child was I, and perhaps an arrogant one I have become, to be one who believes those foolish days are behind him. It is this dichotomy of self that has lead me on a path of self-discovery that yet spans into the horizon. Where does t

The image of you burned upon my heart, i take solace in our distance because i know of the poetic plight we share. Wherever you are love, know that you are always in my heart. No matter the distance we may feel, you could never be closer to my soul. Weep child of the void, for your kin has fallen to the hand of the benevolent birthright placed upon my path. Your hand has no power here, your voice holds no substance. I am all mighty, i am all consuming, I Am Love.