Angelo Vasquez

LAKE ROSEN, by Angelo Vasquez

It was not ever in defiance, I can only say solemnly I am not of that vibration. I know it doesn’t matter and that there’s no escaping. There is not one piece of me that wasn’t lost and missing. I’m still shattered though gathering like the durations of aeons black matter.
When I first remembered his name I desired to claw it from me, soul evisceration, spiritual disembowelment… just to go my own way. Though to do so how could one loathe its existence… that allows mine? How could one one hate and celebrate the distance?!
A broken path of astral corpses rotting and twisting away… I see them in the forest folding over fallen leaves finding a place to cease. This is just a shame, to hear the cries of the cherubim echoing in a torrid lake of torn roses.
Always a shame, when did it ever matter?… We were all once … more.
The lives have become skipping stones, so well thrown only to fall, crash and dround in dying waters. Chalices of the old tarot over flow to the shallow shores, devouring were we thought to be safe.
How does one become more in such less times? The archetypes died slowly before becoming malformed to the foulest minds, the thoughts barely finish past sight. The idea…
And I’m expected to pray? With my lack of reverence and awe I doubt it’d make it that far. This era could be the burnt offering… I have tried and died… I have tried and died … should I sing more pleasing to you… the norm?
Would soothing voices of silk that caress you lovingly be more pleasing? More pleasing than the screaming legions that blacken your heart, reminding you life is over and pointless before it starts.
Turn away and leave and when we meet I may finally see you.
If I convince them to rid themselves of all the things they will wake tommorow and lie in anguish… and may very well rid themselves.
The glowings in the mist allow shades to meet, lowly congregations manifest the commanded desires in what one needs in order to except.
I’m tired and can barely keep my soul open to life…what I will see when I fall asunder, so low and down under…
( to be continued)

Angelo Vasquez
CDC #G07505

more at Angelomalforms
and firme arte.com

Categories: Angelo Vasquez

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