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Sleep paralysis

Sleep paralysis  ~Miss A Seems like the twilight and the absolute abyss is chased away by the glimmering rays of sunlight, Now that it's over I remember you my lord, in a state of pure calmness, to respect the chaos, He must be happy to have a follower like her anyway, take to in warm blooming times,  For the else she stays alone, not reciprocating the chills to the other, just for the sake, seems colder each day. Daddy daddy half humming your name she goes to sleep, hoping to wake up at the lazy time, But plays they play, have version of visions, the coldest bear the best illumination, gags for air, And suddenly the roads are a puzzle, a kaleidoscope of self humiliation in a rather picture perfect way, Totally stuck in meaningful reality, paralyzed in your zoom-ins, sleep paralysis. They shake you up, why to keep holding? Their seems no hospitality in the gaze, Dogs wolvering to bite, the flies become to crow, mellow thick quick sand to die, Carefully placed by your side, what tru
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Negative lights

Negative Lights ~Miss A Choosing to be rather called drowsy, than to let a sudden exchange of moment pull you down the rail, A simple hell should itne called, deep unlike any well. And as one notices the enchanting briefs, forced to mend with its ways, they examine, As if you're chasing one-fifty, and sence a coming to collapse speeding vehicle right straight.  It's numbing, it's raging, it's roaring, and accepts you of your death, And just the instant you realise the value of life, it's played you to your instances. And when you start noticing these scripts, in the accents of tongue and brain, It's a dive, contagious of contaminated layers, which you'd hope to never take. Some dives are shallow, less to be, some make you understand numbing serenity, And in some, you find the artifacts, you know are samples of poison you've tasted. Aware of the possibility of finding them, you try your hit all the brakes, Without the anti-dote of finding the strength, it
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Brain-dead responses

 Brain-dead responses ~Miss A. Moving on to shut the eyes, waiting for you to close the distance, They say to think of postive things before going to bed,  So I try to hold the image of your face, to hide it like a good story in my memories, And I'm brain-dead, nothing exists, no thoughts, no melodies, just you. Stagnant in my vision as a reason to keep on living, a reason to cherish life, And suddenly I find myself those green forests, hugged by mist, and lakes Potentially cold, and forst biting, but burning in my breath like a born fire. But I feel something irritating, an anxiety, and I look at my palms, shaking,  What is that I am missing, for something was there which I was holding with my all, This place seems like paradise, but instict tells me the moss would eat me up, The strong smell of rotting wood, feels as fresh as the lemon jest, even as I lay down, trying to connect to the soil, I can't rest. What is it, what is it, spins my head, what, where, who; and I feel the
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Expensive escapes

 E.E. ~Miss A It's all going in a perfect flow in your eyes, But every word you speak is spoken so blindly, I thought I cry alone, this world is a place so lonely, But damn you weather, always with me. Bullets pass through you, but blades cut deep too, Can't underestimate one based on it's size, Not even sure, with what this free bird is caught, No wounds, but it hurts so bad, feels like internal bleeding. I'm no good, and with the way it's going, I'm upto no good, I used to think, I would grow up beautiful, But the lines on the forehead are deepening, It's all beginning to get all chapped. Don't know what they designed in the lines, But it's not what I asked for, but I'll take your knives, Cut my own lines of fate in my palms, This won't hurt as much as destiny would, right. Blood is an expensive escape, or is destiny, Blood, then who's? Too many things to say at once,  It's sewing my lips into a pristine line. Maybe a letter with bl
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Anyways

  Thought about closing the cynic era, 'Cuz how'd it be an era alone. No showoff, no readers, just done, Givin' me nightmares to not post something. And for that something, always giving the dearth, If it'd be a song line, then it feels like this It sucked a Nigga's soul, gotta cash app, Just getting me nowhere and nothing.  But it feels like murdering, self.  It's called suicide I guess,  When souls are crushed like that, So I'm gonna rethink it now, not yet, anyways. Let's see if this channel exists, Or exits cataloging pages of nothing. Guess it's better to be dumb, it was better, But I lack the fear now for that sort of imagination.
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Bake The Love

 Bake The Love ~Miss A It's the freezing season again,  A season of cold heart, and cold goodbyes. I'm feeling like baking my love, Warm, but I'm bad with the sugar. I keep tellin' you, to help me with the water, But you seem so busy, cut a tangent. Don't then baby me, I'm getting drowsier, No games, no Hennessey, just a downer.
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A story like that

  A story like that ~Miss A It's been a long time, since I read love stories, Stories, that went like, "He was known for being the most handsome one has seen", "And she was the one who never fell for looks, found it the most unhappening". And whatever that meant to each other, Would dissolve once they catch them eyes.  But oh, did these stories really exist? Or should I write one for the community service? Service from deep within, that catches the gist of the utmost pain, Pain, worst of it's kind, like decaying, Just because of being away, Uncanny, yet in a way that touches. A story where you find pink in pastels, over ivory skin, A demeanor, all lit with it, eyes glittering in mist, And not just her, it's him too, pink and flushed in my story, I pretty much don't like the one sided thing like story. A story set in the month of Avril, hung a little by spring, Spring, a vista portraying summer flowers blooming in the mid breese, Not those fancy dress
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