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It Is (Depression)It is a shroud of black velvet.
It is the violent ocean in the dead of night.
It is the monster in the shadows; the Vashta Nerada.
It is the final crash of symbols in Carmina Burana.
It is impossible to lift.
it is impossible to breathe.
It is impossible to see.
It is the only thing that can be heard.
It is why the stars disappear at night.
It is why every light drifts by without stopping.
It is why the gnawing starts and never ceases.
It is why nothing else matters in the end.
It is my disease.
It is my disability.
It is my misfortune.
It is my death sentence.
You didn't dare.She smiled,
but it was fake.
but she's about to break.
She reached out,
but no one came,
tried to fake it,
but the pain stayed the same.
This girl, she called to you,
but you didn't care.
Something told you to help,
but you didn't dare.
What would the others say?
The ones who called her a freak.
They may taunt or shun you,
so you choose not to speak.
Then she decides to leave.
Because no one wants her here.
You'll never see her cry.
She'll never shed another tear.
WantsI want to be the dark abyss
Absorbing your chest cavity,
I want to be the one you miss
That holds you under gravity,
I want to be the deadly kiss
That settles your fatality
I want to be the broken veil
To sabotage the last good thing,
I want to be the things you fail
That finalize your will for trying
I want to be the hidden trail
That leads you to find everything
I want to be the last regret
That haunts you throughout every ring,
I want to be the dreary set
That gloomy sullenness would bring,
I want to be the thought of death
That savors all your suffering
I want to be the lies you tell
That lead you through your false deception,
I want to be the hopeless hell
That burns and distorts your perception,
I want to be the love you felt...
But that I am the one exception.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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