Tainted

Horrid horns in repetitive crescendos start blaring in section-Q.
Planetary fissions have been happening frequently at The Acrux
Rotary Sphere’s. I run to the gravitation ships located at the Heart
Sector of Spiral Headquarters, racing down the steps at the helix
Guard railings, fervently sliding down towards the atrium, now
Congested with silhouettes in lines, practicing each blasting hex
Gained during the last virtual-motion training simulation at HQ.
Weaving variant pulses in flaming arcs of formations inside Isogriv
Visual Optics from implanted chips. Swiftly, in order, they shrunk
Quarantined debris in conjured tangerine electric laser cages. Ting:
Eradicated masses within a blink. Garrulous cries chatter at marvels;
Neglecting the death count. Tainted brigades of a fleeting aberration.
Morose rebuttals of abhorrences inside this forgotten spaceship,

Used –End.


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Where

They’d read fine lined movements,
They’d hear thoughtless pitches,
They’d dissect words and phrases,
While I desperately tried
To keep them hidden,
While freed exposures
Were covertly covered
Up by explanations.

They’d find ways
To play viola variations
Of indifferent violations
In violent slashing motions
In muted flesh tones
Of proprietorial renderings.

Inspirational
Provocations
In dreary wires
Engendering
Romances
Puppeteering
Displays
Of profferings
Across this mire

 
-Sabs-

Spirit Mantles

Spirit sucking mantles
Are stored in watery graves;
Where sprites are saved
From suckling mentals,
Where excreted secrets lay
Further than coastal manta rays,
So should it remain.

Alas,
A ghoul passes
Plucking one from
The watery depths
Past the cape.

The mantle is worn,
Ripped and shredded,
As its fringes bled,
While the ghoul
Knowingly traced
Ways to race away
From impunity’s pleas,
While it limply drapes
Its outlines,
Ordained.

-Sabs-

Nearly Tangible

Cautiously noting the mind’s receding ebb,
Drawn tides start to analyse what could be baryonic
Baryogenesis. Nearly tangible composite matter, a
Caustic reminder of how mind controlled fingers left me daunted.
Entreaties written in order to salvage my newfound motif,
Envelope me in irrefutable mysterious nebulaic puff.
Extended exposure or optical filters inspire
Extricated colours of nuanced diaphora,
Commonly referred to as love. As descended
Euphoric waves disdainfully entertain the beguiled.

-Sabs-

I’m Nice

Riddled proclamations of love
Prove to have been nothing more
Than trash slopped sewage sludge.

Oh yes, please go ahead,
Please waste my time
For the sake of your rhyme.

While I tend to your bidding
Doing exactly as you portend.
Just a puppet in disguise,
Pretending I’m nice.

While I decide
These series of unfortunate events
Have occurred in my head
A digestible truth
Compared to
Thinking that you’re dead.

-Sabs-