Botol Kaca "Kompleks"

An Act of Circus within A Jar of Tides (  " I'm your problem child, your matter of fact" )  The singular only way I could comprehend the act of tearing one's own skin, is through allegories and metaphorical transversal visions of knives, tides and a heart as the boundary of tragedies Without days went missing on papers, it'd feel like a jar trapping the ocean directly beneath the light of moon, the tides are rising higher as more distance closing, crashing into the land of volcanic rocks The motion of tides breaking is like a raging, wild and strong-willed banging, begging to the sky and earth for a way to roam free about the waters of lakes But, the only passage to freely roaming is through the windows As I hear the thunder-like banging of tides, I close ears to the otherwordly dream lane, let them struck me with tunes and choirs of the grounded saints Melancholy as it is, spared me  another gesture to live on Agonizing as it is, dries my heart out from raging mo...

absensce , abandonment and the silent crimes (unbranded wounds of a once who I am) This dimensive lane is too loud I pin my nose to subtle choirs and pictures Your breath is like a passing railway Your gaze swim like an orchestral fluid When you scream, it sounds like hell came down through a crack on the time lane When you see through me to the walls, the smallest non-sounding objects turn to into the loudest banging Ears bleeding, Heart tearing All the false declarations are the biggest of lies All the non-conforming ideations are the cruelest of crimes You didn't put my shoes beneath of you, instead you put me into yours The ignored injustice, silent killers It is  a white senseless crime, the people's stupidly elusive hidden secret, exhibited as Picassos in communion parks All naked to naked Bluntly viewed as pleasure, a comforting matter to illicit acts. A senseless declaration, the holiest between the mothers of satan From it, sparks were born, as initials to the beginnin...