The Cynic Communtity

 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 fe...

 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...

  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.

 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.

  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...

  80's down ~Miss A 80's down; on my baby, Oh lord, I couldn't count, The days that you've swirled beside me, I wanted to cherish them all the way down. Heard a Cypris singing, Good lord I thought a frown, I get to see your face tonight, Oh I've travelled to your town.  And everything is jolly, The grass that wilted coses dew, The time keeps testing me, Why every minute ticks so slow. Heard the weatherman forecasting, Said the cold is at the rage, Am I burning from within, Or are the news just so fake.  Even when I'm so tired, My legs are getting up it's pace, I'm scared that I might tremble, And cause all the unnecessary delay. Couldn't get my brain up all that work, I kept yawning,  I kept fidgeting, Telling myself to calm down for once. I know I'll get this through, I tell myself to have patience, But a day in full exhaust with you, I keep dreaming, I keep warming. Will be your 80's baby, Don't need much from you, but you. Will be your...

 Still thriving .