cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts tagged “lyricist

nameless

Posted on June 28, 2019

it’s almost time for a confessional. let’s bathe our feet while we dance sediment wash. baptism in the chemical sand trekking through the barriers that barely stand in touch with invariance. writing love letters. barely legible; sun setters cantaloupe sky. dusk settles. what’s warm love in november? it’s cranberry cheeks. your tongue tingling. teeth surrendering ourselves to eruption. lungs blistering. freeze i’ve talked to god on occasion. mention mary and seph’ carried a mountain on my shoulders through a valley of death i’ve longed for delay. had a walk through nirvana hoisted a banner reading ‘i want to be craved’ we just want to be loved. we just want to partake. on a trotting that doesn’t involve being numb noticed your aura carrying breath…

again and again, again.

Posted on January 16, 2019

again i hear footsteps awaken the creaks in the floor again. who the fucks at the door? night stand machete laid neatly in drawer revolver neath queen mattress. in case of a quarrel but there’s nothing. just repentance, contempt, intentions dissolved gun powder, protein drinks, and penniless thoughts could’ve sworn there was something. apparently not hear a swarm of bees next to me every day before dark borderline manic. try undoing the damage safe spaces fossilize our balloons & our cages as therapeutic as raindrops on metal roof interchanges interpersonal relationships via internal damnation stray further from kinship. purge the pervasion starboard the king ship. observe the insane social connection more grandeur than normal distinction hormonal response. formality close to instinction forming a bond.…

my mother used to say

Posted on October 26, 2017

hi. I’m okay. my name is .. (private exchange) oceanic delight. mariana trench – lets lie on the waves get lied to with promises as you wave your goodbyes the we’ll soon see each others. the i cant wait to arrives gesticulating giant, wide-eyed naivety shine Juan Valdez roast – a vagabonds variant vibe cash valet parking  -pristine ’85 BMW e28. cabernet offswitch. tannins drip from my IV cause i don’t bleed dna deviate from the norm. heliocentric. her face is a star she makes the sun turn violet, and gives rainbows their scars technicolor stitches, wounds wash radiant art do re mi, one way street of living, who’s to say that we are in edens garden, dancing naked to purple rain my dorsal…

i know what i need 

Posted on October 12, 2017

I dont know what I want whether its surface dwelling alone at the swamp or an oak in a marsh, soul searching proverbial want we’re more or less spawns of monsters nobody needs you were my star spangled banner and I was taking a knee subterranean breeze, vitamin pond, still smell your perfume every once in a blue, Dahlia Divin creeps in the room black lagoon creature. months of despondent malaise never under the same moon, but always got in your way every constant is change, every constant in chains the sheriff to my merits, conversation warranted pain follow the tunnel light or continue to walk amongst shade politics, topic delay, boxer on the ropes you taught me to love; but to love to…

fötter day

Posted on June 20, 2017

you can hear the… suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank. dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me he, who knows the way to zihuatenejo. furlough father. demand you to die when i say so 26 pesos what’s left in your wallet lint and mothball, merryland. experiment omelette. laundromat arcade quarter exchange 2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here you shouldered me…

unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

Posted on December 17, 2014

puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in post and pre nuptial showmanship. Function control amusing instrumental. effusive, ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy a weeded rustled drone, that tumblerode a the quietest depiction of the color blue on a petal succulent. moss grows on my archers boot and a straw of my grass clenched by my jawbones a flux of rusty trombones that exude music through it’s metal I’ve heard poetry spoken in crux, bolded by a bellowing, bolstering Underlined by a snake in the grass, it’s so mellow. Just hold me Boisterous. soaked in droves of this sorceress satin She spoke in a language obscurely molded in spanish her lips curved,…

guillotine lust

Posted on December 12, 2014

particle physics; radiation cusps at every speck and a grain that didn’t mean infecting the inflections as your hypothetical claim bite the bullet. swallowing the pistol. it shoots harboring a hollow feeling. sipping miller to boot coil gripped Corona, drowning out social persona were evolving into moths, wallowing towards the murky gray skies. yeah, the coffee! what’s next? marvelous pillow talk over a body of sex heel gone from the left side of my moccasin treads in particular, inarticulate guy with philosophers breath cotton linen robe; tonight i uncover the secrets you stashed underneath the cardinal chasm embedded deep in the cracks try to unfurl the english, through your lips on contours christmas carolers scarf, closed captioned lyrics encore wept for concourse, a few…

Freshly dressed tourniquet

Posted on December 5, 2014

Empyrean cosmos. This feeling I swallow; it’s real. It’s hollow, but there. I know it. It’s growing, a hole full of sorrow, it’s weird. Some sort of eery control. It’s sculpted out a grave in my heart, it’s six feet into my soul. Clay soldier statue that’s woven and wound up by fear. Wounded by perceptions and ousted by fear. I’m used to it, ruthless, I’m near it, I smell, it; I hear. And movements that veer into me, is getting boosted. It’s like every little thing is in motion for me. Emotionally, my blood pumps. it’s mundane humdrum. I’m so used to panic attacks when it happens, I’ve practiced drowning myself to get better at ‘em. Crusted bark falling off the sharp edges…

IT’S 2 A.M AGAIN, wooohooo.

Posted on November 17, 2014

  its 2am i feel interconnected through any vine or snippet of life perennial inflorescence of any 6 seconds are chimed the success is a hive. hummingbird wings in slow motion hearing the crickets sing, so monotone yet obscurely composed feels like they’re talking to me, as i walk on the leaves that i cross demure. you’re so provocative. and i’m surely a ghost crunching of autumn, is like a skeleton field for tiny trees in the fall to possess you is a  perfect choice, and you’re as alluring, a host sunbathed petals, drowning in jack’o’lanterns of coffee & pumpkin squash the soggy leaves, after a beer. underneath the frothy assumptions it’s cost me a fortune. ink-jets flew the loss to the profits that’s…

IT’S 2 A.M

Posted on November 17, 2014

hello crickets. im sad. (the wonderful thing about crickets is they’ll keep chirping if you’re talking to them)The world is at a crossroads. It’s silent and heavy. The cultures the clashes. The cancer, the caving. The careers and consultations my mentors suggest. I look at beautiful woman and I want to tell them they’re beautiful. To smile. I look at men I have some interests with and I want to tell them “hey man, that’s cool.” the comment alone is enough for me as a interaction. sometimes It’s lonely. sometimes you want them to be interested in what you have to say. Sometimes you want a meaningful conversation. sometimes I don’t want to fantasize about sexual trysts. I just want to roll around in…

HOT CHOCOLATE

Posted on November 17, 2014

HOT CHOCOLATE I walked out in the cold today. Eyes lazy. Burning cause of my allergies. Dogs chain brushing against his collar. Night time. I don’t like looking at shadows that much, they make me dizzy. Something about the abnormal shape makes my head spin. And they’re so rigid. I smelled something. That ‘time of the year’ smell. It filled my soul with a plush, perfect painting. I like chimneys. Theres something so old about them. I used to look at christmas books with the oil santas drawn with his bushy jolly beard and cheeks. Snow scenario, red and green illuminating the tundras of decembers winter. There’s something so relaxing coming in from the cold, to a nice, warm inside, with nice warm cloth,…

I like fictional books. The main character is always me.

Posted on February 28, 2013

Feel the vectors into orbit, melting into fiscal porn Each waking moment. Exists to mourn the pensive rigor mortis And I hate myself so much every. single. morning. Its like clockwork. Lonesome. Staring in the mirror. See a monster. Bones drugged. Mainly see the errors. Home drunk. Sloppy. With a motor function failure Open palm my soul in one. The shodokans prepared Im off the bat. Im off the case. Im solely here to reap A wad of air I waste. So oddly placed you forget to even breathe. You wake up in your sleep. Catch your breath, and then youre weak Wake to a dim reality that youre never truly buzzed Whole life I never felt hungover. Till I was happy once, then…

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