still pounding that rhythmical beat…

how many feelings, can i compose. within syllables, constructing meaningless words. before it all starts to decompose. and rot upon soulless trees. lyrically torn, and poetically rambling. feeling like some disgusting porn. as i spread myself, like some kind of disease. born into corrupted bloodlines. where foresight, only goes as far as our eyes. the loss of long forgotten strings. that used to connect… more than just bodies. as love becomes a fairytale. and the world forgets how to dream. losing the magic, within our souls. yet i’m still pounding out a rhythmical beat. within this art of mine, once known as the human heart. but within the tongues of an forgotten language. my lungs become… deflated balloons. as it gets hard to breathe. screaming hellos… that always end, with goodbyes.
-Joshua Ryan Stewart


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