A poem to please,
to make the hand seize;
My beautiful viewer
countless or fewer,
imagine I'm sincere;
there is no "poem" here.
/the above is not what you came to see but I was afraid this would get deleted as there is nothing even faintly resembling a poem in what I want to share.
click to show spoiler
Wind pushed itself through countless trees in a puny effort to communicate with the rest of nature effecting nothing more brilliant than an orchestra of subtle noises which sounded strangely like the push and pull of the oceans, however brilliant that was to begin with. Tonight the sky hung close to the ground in an absolute blanket with the look of smooth velvet laid out over a flat surface; stars blinked eagerly in small clusters that gently reinforced the idea of intelligent design.
Seconds jumped off the clock face in a decent attempt to accomadate the minutes forthcoming which were already fortifying themselves against the scurge of hours, who soon would welcome the permanent visit of crow's feet and frown marks. You felt out of yourself trapped where the paralelle rodes discretely join for one or three nights of crazed illogical passion, making possible counter-symmetry.
///Right now would be a good time to call upon the valiant service of a plot device but the narration is plainly dry and lacking an idea to begin with; however, the plot is unnecessary to begin with as the understandind is ever more ellusive at the start of the beginning. Futhermore all we have to sell is nothing you want to buy for the simple reason that what we peddle is diseased in the most vague of fashions tricking skin into believing that it is not being crawled over by little, tiny, disgusting feet.
Imagine for one second that we are born as ghosts into the beauty of fortune which by the standard judgement is a contemporary monster, which is life, attempting to have some innocent fun. Don't you hate this crazy motion stealing your heart like the lyrics of a tragic, quiet love song playing dimly above the brainless television programming, oddly the chorus is freeform that stands alone with meaning.
What have we become.
///Don't you approve; what will you see in your own eyes? We are gentle villains taking back the name of whomever, each a silent warrior braving some adventure to naught.
Let's be together when the solidarity of conveyance breaks down into meaningless babble clawing it's way out of our throats, among the other terrible consequences of perceivable things. It would be wise to guard all the special feelings inside with a certain attitude that you must reveal to no one for you don't know what is lying beneath the transient mask that falls off slower only than the whiplash of a gun pop. The city of unity isn't as clean as the brochure said it was but the inner machine is so finely greased that even the most clairvoyant of liars never realize the lie is themself, who is admittedly the truth in a sly disguise.
The truth is morbid.
Honestly, this isn't a fanfic, if it were in that category no one would see it in the first place. i want to share
eDit: it looks much better with the indentation etc.