The Exquisite Machinery Of Tor


A sustained static gaze, oblivious to surroundings.
empty, strained, unmoving eyes; introverted, paralyzed
a burning mass of emotions denied, enraged by years of silencing.
an accumulation of feelings suppressed, returning to devour.
bright rays of chaos, generated by subconsciousness.
a retribution by own thoughts; twisting the mind into fits
fuelled with pains unveiled. burning with contamination.
set afire by disowned self-lies; they penetrate the eyes.
I... am i the next? self inflicted overload.
thoughts returning to think me away.
i... will i be reprieved,
or am i just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite,
internal machinery of torture
The turmoil arises, from the innermost core of denial.
shining streams of putrefaction, reflugent with disease -
in outward motion to redress the balance by retaliation.
a terminal journey to relieve cognition of ability
minds lit like candles, by rejected senses and emotions.
tearing flames, born in mind; creations of self deception.
strained, not to lose the grip - humans locked in the new disease.
a light by eyes unseen has come to burn us clean.
Ref: i... am i the next?.......
I sense; the facilities of the bodily; discorporated by the light
all my pleas; denied
by my psychological enemy
the inner light unseen
I... i'm deceived by my
receiving eyes; - susceptible
to the endless killing-sights
Consciousness fails the grip. substance now decreasing
amorphous. without shape - i'm vanishing; dematerialized
my own corrosive thoughts - probes armed with acid tools
disintegrated, i'm bleached out of reality
scattered bits internally; my last transparent remains;
floating objects inanimate; spinning into my soul
defeated by my contents. tables turned, i'm a thought repressed
i'm swallowed into myself. destination; nothingness
I... am i the next? self inflicted overload
thoughts returning to think me away
i... will i be reprieved
or am i just awaiting the sentence of my exquisite,
internal machinery of torture
i... i've been the next. my self inflicted overload,
my neglected thoughts have thought me undone.
i... i was never reprieved
now i know the sentence of me exquisite,
internal machinery of torture

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