This is a poem I wrote for no other basis than to obtain alot of those feelings elsewhere of my mind and down on to paper. Let me comprehend what you think.

Circling and spinning, men losing and winning. These men of bloodshed devoted to peace.

Fighting immortals, unquenching fury, unslaking bloodlust. Stabbing and spinning, whirling and winning completed lifetime immemorial.

Arms untiring, guns always firing, battling the blackness till incisiveness generation come. Blood-drenched pillars of righteousness in the spinning sea of disorder unending.

Hearts unabridged with brutal joy, ultimate alive and dying a diminutive more. And the unnamed perception tricks them this way, as the train toes over the line, derailing in the mind.

And the chaos marches on, from nightfall till dawn. Then the unnamed consciousness toes over the path and takes me away, no quarter asked, none disposed as day marches on, from dusk till dawn.

The struggle whirls on, gleaming swords steeped in the blood of madness, ripping swathes of flesh, fighting down the tides of time.

Peace eternal far besides boring, they cannot sleep in this down full world. I rage, I gaze, I hurt, I hate.

Charging as the bleeding gratuity of the sword shows us the way. As I wait for the train my toe rolls the borderline and the unnamed motility takes me outside to the playground of pain.

In between entity and death, nowadays and tomorrow, this and that the warriors battle royal onward, untiring, unending, holding back the tide of madness. The immortals of workman surrender themselves as one immediate lasts for eternity.

Into distance let them fade, they're okay, however don't drive away, they're okay, nevertheless please don't stray as well far. I'm blind here. Please be my eyes, my ears, my mind, and my soul. For I retain none of my own.

War ending, our souls unsettled on the scales of reality. It comes alive and I die a slender more.

Rage, hatred, pain, panic locked within the brainpower and flesh, let the insanity come and flay it bare. That we may be as they, pillars of pressure in the globe of weakness with bagatelle on the other hand their rage to garner them glowing as they battle the Nihility washed-up the ages.

You and I hold joined them already in the unholy matrimony of pain. Screaming until our vocal cords burst, fighting till our bones snap as the unnamed pain comes over us and binds us in the globe of freedom, nailed down the pink fog of the function into the heat of the fight.

Not caring approximately living or dying, there is by oneself the struggle, the fight, the battle forevermore as we seek the equitable to be.

Forever raging, forever fighting, staking our speak in the bulky void of the coalmine that birthed us.

The band plays on, the bop of life. The chord that brought us to be in this endless waltz.

Wailing strings and snapping drums bring us forth to war, to life, for individual in the loss and enchanting of vitality close we semblance alive and be acquainted its licence value.

All men stand alone on the sphere of aggrandizement with no soul to damn and no ass to kick. Blades disjoining mist to bury back within ourselves, still we brush on, gay of the chance to rip the emotions from ourselves that they may stand beside us. Our rage lending us insurmountable strength, anxiety speeding our limbs, rack stilling our hearts.

We come gladly to this deposit that our souls may cut arrangement and coerce back the darkness within, the darkness without, and the darkness beyond. No longer imprisoned within its cage of flesh, our rage is the calamity that beats mountains to dust.

There are no complications, alone war. No love, sole war. No guilt , apart war. That we may forge ourselves in the fires of hell and be reborn in experienced crystalline hatred.

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