chroniclesoftherobotanist-blog

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Shelter In the Storm

This fires Killing me inside I need Your water My lungs are feeling dry Your air Is brighter than the sun Each breath is Refreshed with A fire that becomes My refuge Shelter in the storm

Im freezing Who knew hell could be this cold? And these demons, they chase me down the road I leave them, screaming "quit selling me your soul!"

To fall asleep, I wake up Dreaming. Please Pinch me if you have to Send me home, You called me sheep, I faked believing I want you back though I need it, Don't let me go!

This fires Killing me inside I need Your water My lungs are feeling dry Your air Is brighter than the sun Each breath is Refreshed with A fire that becomes My refuge Shelter in the storm

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POST STAMP HERE

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Eden and the Steam Punk Flower

Yeah...your bodies like a stars, 

spreading light 

like a lampposts stamp collection. 

At the corner of the world 

leaking out perfection. 

I copyright my scars 

cause they bear a close resemblance to... 

a crescent moon.

And put a patent on the pain, 

so you don't make the same mistakes;

I do... Not want to fall asleep 

Although my bones may ache, You keep... me up for days 

Lights on  and no ones home  Yet I never spend the night alone.

So you don't fear what poisons you, 

as well as hear those voices too?

Don't be missed hook,  one glance I took  Look...you're quite okay,  in my book! 

The painting... in the back room's an illusion  That was close to your demolish.  Of a butterfly... with a tattoo of a human  Which the roses thorns keep polished. 

We grew  our own Eden,  shhh! Don't tell anyone.

[chroniclesoftherobotanist-blog]

The Element in the Room

“How did darkness birth a star at sunlight, was it not day that allowed its presence to be shadowed?” The signs point up for answers ourselves search and later deny. Like eventide tucking in the bright of dawn, the roots of love are nurtured by colorful contours allowing the spectacle to continue sway. There exists energies of neither natural nor wild notion, flourishing nourished impetus that just are to be. The nebulas in the corner of an eye trickle down as tears of joy fly through the potent source of life. Watered with luminosity parched lips become quenched. Reason without emotion bears no logic, yet emotion without reason is effortlessly felt as each sit periodically tabled across a food for thought that knowledge and power divide. Consciences on a scale of consciousness, both sub and un; weighing symbolic attributions of genius verse mad scientist, are brought to the masses and put on display. Shelved in a clear atmosphere and tattooed with a barcode are the habitual ideas, worlds apart and so very much near; come to understand, or try at least. The values of beauty defies gravitational pull and societal structure, for space is a portrait and only the face that is learned to be seen. Her body is beyond echoes of eternity not even a combination of all imaginations can constitute. Gods creation is infinite, bountiful in wonder and full of grace exceeding all comprehension. The abstract concrete, a blink that is the dream or the escape from it? Addressing the elements in the room, is to be out of the element completely....

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OutOfTheBlue

A vertical horizon who lays like a mantis above the skies, guarding the essence of nature at all costs, hibernated in a meditative morrow, stirred by cosmic and contradictorily cataclysmic currents that came clashing against this middle Medium, Chronicle awoke. Due to such strong celestial force, Herb and Legion, two very legendary and immortal symbiotic abstractions were warped into the whirlpool of worldly whispers, and erupted out onto a nova called Tare; a surface area known for its rapid growth in raw realities. Tare prospers in life and death; for the experienced moments of space and distance are just an illusion of being. The trickiness of time and its existence or lack thereof is ever so present, a looped labyrinth mind game to each inhabitant force.....