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Sphallolalia

Reading this work of a philosophunculist would be an act
I mean, an act of humanitarian art, because your understanding adds value to these sentences
I mean, you'll be a part of this act
And to sum this up first, before we end it
This is another piece with signs of mulligrubs without being lalochezial in these dark ages
It’s not hard to ink the pages
Or the skin
Holding the words that come from within
Travelling far away from the pain is, hard without no questions asked
Like holding your face behind a mask, because people don’t want to bury the axe
Trying to face the demons sleeping in my day dreams at night, on a daily basis
And look into the mirror even though I can’t face it
I look out from my window and see all these faces
And instantly go back because of the expected qualtagh and lay my head on the pillow because that’s the safest...
...choice...
...I...
...can make not being hurt by my own voice
An outcome from living amongst the rest of the boys
In your backyard, close to heart, and I lived with enough pain already
Grew up learning the hard life of hard work, not putting art first, or appreciate my heart’s worth, seeing dirt, not being worth anything else but bleeding words, feeling burned, being first to reach rock bottom, scrape and heavy
Loaded with anxiety and regret, never getting any respect
Because of a label labelled by society, terminology inappropriate to use in front of our muse, but what else could one expect?
Never told anybody about this simply because my inner voices told me this in confidence
Well, this pertains certain facts and I’m confident someday that will seem like nonsense
The content is to find somewhere within the context
Or maybe the context is to find somewhere within the content?
Whichever way I wish there was more looks in me than brains
Sadly that one thing I can’t ever change, some things better stay as they never lain
Another failure
Somebody told me about this complete failure I wasn’t aware of because I was afraid of the truth because my eyes bled
It’s possible I possibly said something I shouldn’t have said
Now I feel like I’ve lost something I never had, because things got blown out of proportions
Now that’ll give the demons something to smile about when I’m carrying this heavy soul heavily out of control out in the cold to an oasis of illusions close to extortion
In slow motion, like every frame within the flick's sequence is following your motions
Devolving the retouching of every piece within the imaginations painted by your own devotion
Problems, we all got ‘em, and I should work my way on the road of despair together with those who never cares to a pair a pair of drinks during accubative workouts trying not to suffocate and face less of mine
In these modern day times and ages of lies
We’re all experiencing different stages in life
And some of us accept the fact that we’re drinking booze only because we want to stay painless at night
Now, tell me the truth, no matter how heavy the truth’s
We’re walking on the same trail on this road to end this book of adoxography and I’m already in shoes
I’m no nelipot but still I never meet a woman with the same agastopia
As myself and that’s one of my utopias
Speaking of utopias, I just diagnosed myself with kakorrhaphiophobia
And that’s just great, aint it? So I’ll add it to my collection of the rest of my phobias
This is a fragment from my diary, but it’s not a tittynope
It’s more of like thoughts collected together to gamble in life with like kitty scopes
Or dreams filled with fifty hopes, when the banks in the city’s broke
Floating in the underground tunnel systems from structures of quondam architecture
Like our love, it’s lasted a while now, but we haven’t found the right foundation for it to settle
Perhaps this is sphallolalia, but how about this, I invite you to some cataglottism if you’d like and if we can gather up enough mettle
And if that's not enough, and your spirit is free
I’ll end this with being thelemic, if you’ve got a epidemic disease, but don’t know what it means, you’re most welcome to share it with me

© Martin Ångnell 2010 - 2017