Of these, of you…

Of the most intricate delicacy, of the most vibrant febricity,
Behold you were borne in oaken olive oil, we wept you in gravest contempt…

Of these feelings, the profoundest is despair,
So fulfilling in its sweetly depraved emptiness,
In its sorrowful embrace: a lamenting embrasure so involute…
To long is to aspire, to aspire is to inspire others to do the same:
…know none are alone in their pains and stressing tomorrows,
For all are of unequaled antithesis to antiquated meaninglessness.

The emptiness we feel is of essence to what is definitively ascribed ‘longing.’  
We long for more, we yearn for adjourned mourning…we detest in bravest contest,
We strive with unbridling stride,
…and we conceivably dream to perceivably gleam,

But desolating hymns of orating calamity for vengeful verses,
…of contemptuous futility – of dualistic forbearance and foreboding tragedy…

Forsakenly begotten to the wind’s timeless dust,
Within empty nothingness, eternally condemned to a place so malcontent,
Of blissful obscurity and ignorant insecurity;
Behold, of these holy things, of your seditious pleas,
We implore esoteric secrecies, for reasons of ruinous vermination,
Upon altars of supremacist insatiability,

To the edges, and to the brink of unfound heresy…

From the precipice of unsound glory, of reprise and demise,

Of succession and incessant uprising, for which damnation has no history,
But the bleakly foretold sum of yesterday and tomorrow –
Where the morning mist dews not,
…and where vultures sing songs of haughty vehemence,

To determinacy and vociferously capricious lunacy…from floodgates long unfounded,
To the kingdoms far beyond the forest horizons, whence the sun sets naught,
But for eternity, midnight cloaks all of existence’s cold winter-moons,
Where defeatist sorrow doth lament,
And the deathless surely propagate…deplore this place,

Disgrace of me with miasmic distaste…
For the disastrous reckoning that is to come,
Will no more the likely be undone, as the abominably uncreated loathe…,
With rivalrous liturgy and resurged reprobation,
Where the fornicated are no more the less liberated,
Within diplomacy and supremacy…
Comes the eminent insurrection, the grandest of rebellions…
…the day of absolute resurgency for a world filled with so much uncertainty…

This is a place of negated demoralization, where defeat is only matched.,
But by conquering victory– of forfeiture and hapless finality,
Of dismal gleams so atavistic,
Where we contrite the dreaded outcomes of failures so delightful,

…of desire so delectable…refraction of the paradigm,
A retraction of the supposition…,

So rapidly abstract, so revealingly grotesque,
…in its inglorious splendor and blackened resplendence…

Of unreality, so surrealistically unflattering, a triad of shifting contextures,
Of schooling conjectures, a maddening whisper so horribly redeemed,
By faceless horrors of unknowable contortion – with notion of motioned decadence,
With facets of fireless torments…of these, of this – of you and of us,

We are forever ridden with cursed unreachability, of hourly remembrance,
Of that past so hauntingly harrowing, with waning immutability…
Stripped of all pride, f
ar removed from the tide – hopelessness endures here,

Viscerally retaliatory, for the miserably flagellated.,
…and defamatorily ripened facets of darkness undone in depletion,. 

And light interceding without willowed or returned commission.,
of succulent intermissions,
so abrasively lost within loneliness so solemn,
forged with fire, blood and iniquity –
inflammatorily receded,
to the enormously conflicting, and engramic aspectual enigma,

Of infusion so cohort with twistedly villainous melodies of
Voraciously dissuaded frailties, s
o ravishingly demanding,
For recanting a rekindling depth of fallen regret,
…so surfaced with commutability, and unvoiced regression.

Sorrow overwhelming me, these feelings leading me…,
To derelict I am but forsaken, and alone, solemnly, eternally –
…and though the senseless despair rings cold within,
The whispering winds,
there is reassurance,
A sparkling sense of comfort with the dark,

And its most formless macabre embrace…
For within this gloomily darkened embrasure…,

A bond so binding is forlornly doomed bounding, with appraised reaffirmation,
…and unheard vociferous attest, a harkening trumped is sound – so harrowing,
Is the resonance of this reverberating sensation…
Rising forth from the marbled floor,
M
anifesting, into personhood –
Replicating ghastly within engrossed malformation, and reputed fating…

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