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Tripping Over Your Feet
1 25%
3 75%
Voters: 4.
This is a long ass 1v1 but it should be a pretty good read for everyone. Vote!

Tripping Over Your Feet

Chapter 1: Erasing the Chalk Lines

It’s the first step of a wanderer’s journey
That finds its place in wet cement
The second and onward are what reach
The depths of the sand

And no matter what shoe you wear
No matter what sole you bear
The print will always remind you
Of the significance of taking each step
As another chapter, to follow through

Also that concrete or not
It can be erased
Once the last grain of sand has found its spot
The past will not be traced
Unless of course
With much force
You wish your conquest to be defaced

Chapter 2: The End of Perception

Now you’ve found yourself
Entering realities and dualities
That no longer catch your eye
But rather mix dust with what you deny

As you drown in the stream of consciousness
Utter lack of happiness
With your shadows dragging you
By the very tips of your toes
And they continue to subdue

Struggling, struggling…
Tugging at your collar
Knowing you better than yourself
Those dastardly scholars
Until the breath bursts from your mouth
And you witness your essence
Drift away to the surface

Chapter 3: Kaleidoscope of Change and Salvation

In the dark depths of dementia
You are able to see the world
Truth for truth, no word of a lie
Words being hurled
The dignity dies
Any expression escapes you
The thoughts pass by

Revived by a realization
An idea drawing nigh
Destruction is creation
And this has turned the world awry

To kill, to glorify
To weep, to respect
To hate, to horrify
To slay, but an insect

To fall, to stand
To fight for the land
To run, to trip
To seek honour and slip

Above all else
To look into the eyes
To lie through the teeth
To be all you despise
Just to make ends meet

But when loose ends remain split
The chaos returns
The chew and the spit
Of the reality that burns

Another victim of the stray
The one day
The hounds at bay
Another contender
In the race to decay

Chapter 4: noitpecreP gnidniweR

And it all comes back to the footstep
The sand has long since laid to rest
While the cement has cracked in protest
To the thought of structure and solidity

Now your sole soul lies in two
Almost smirking at your misfortune
As the sunlight becomes of changed hue
And yet it still doesn’t seem to construe
The meaning behind all of this
The purpose of the reason
While you wash off the remainder of treason
Bidding yourself adieu

For it’s most certain you will never see yourself again
With the mask welded to your face
Becoming a member of the chase
Pursuing success without a definition
The human condition
Once again lacking cognition

Chapter 5: The Introduction to Ambiguity

March, march!
My fellow man
Shovel in hand
Today is (the one day)
The hounds seek a new scent
And you seem to be down to the last leg
Of the marathon
No… the descent

I would lend you my body and mind
If I weren’t already aware of your kind
Drained, and then drain in return
Never to live, never to learn
Never to want, never to yearn
Only to need, the wants that you earn

Collapsing the cathedral upon the decades
Without turning a single head
Almost like talking to the dead
While you watch where you tread

But now, the inevitable reaches you
And you wave good-bye
To the false yet true
The world that doesn’t exist
Because they don’t want it to

Then, finally as you close your eyes
Awaiting the sweet embrace of deception
You begin to unwillingly accept
But then…

You take another step.



"Oh my, oh my! What is she doing?" Eternity is one among,
Eternity is on our....

She glimmered like an incandescent spire doused in Hessian,
Perched above her concrete alter, defined in a crucified stance,
As the skyscrapers sheltered the sunrise pyre calling farewell to the stars,
She was shaking at her shadows insignificance compared to the street,
Yet admiring her star-lit aureole in the twitching pupils of Temporals.

"I for one, to this day can't recall seeing the sky fall to its knees,
but it did, the clouds collapsed like nebula into the streets,
as the constellations fell despondently into craters that choked
on the wreckage of cities, and then we watched as the moon's
skeletal remains were hauled from the sea, to a choir of
Temporals calling out to the sky saying; "We never
contemplated the implications of our crimes." But our sound
waves were conquered by the dissonance and discord of the
world, along with our hopes and dreams (deafly, deftly defy the deviants)
and the love sealed in rings that now shattered our sweetheart’s
souls, which lie consumed in the streets in city sized graves.”

Daughter, we had no choice with the changes that beset
our helpless colonies....for that’s all we were to such a cause.
When we knew the catalyst was one among us, we cried for her;
"have faith, have faith in yourself," we all cried to the sky,
when in truth we had lost it in the moment we thought,
"She’ll jump, she'll jump!"


Laboured is her breathing,
scrounging for composure at the feet of suffocation,
leaving the iron-lung ossuary,
at the knees of hyperventilated Temporals.
"Sacrifice, sacrifice" she cries,
for this skyscraper alter is too cold,
the hands that built it have long ago decayed,
and the palms that blessed it have now since abstained.
"The virus is air born" they cry,
"Its point blank with the parasitic portraits of star-signs,"
A fate not endorsed by the fatal conceptions.
So clot the streets with finger crucifixes',
and overdose the skyline with amphetamine litanies,
eclipsing the confines of this atmospheric ampetheatre,
making puppets of mortals, binding death to them in plurals,
for nothing so "pure" can placate these plains,
and such things as "demons" steal metaphors from linguists.
As the carcass' staircase spine shatters,
and the tears fall in ritual submission of sadness.

So long live their holy spirits; (Eternally, eternal)
so long live their holy spirits. (Eternally)


Learching from her perpendicular poise,
towards her horizontal vantage point amongst the placards,
of Temporals crying; "Forgive us! Forgive us?"
The composure of the concrete is mnemonic in stature,
"This is a sympathy sacrifice for sure,"
for once the path is taken; two are led to temptation...
Until the air born virus inseminates the structures.
Not since her shadow casting a crucifix across the sea,
has the significance of separation been so crucial.
"Send out a nebula screen as far as you can see,
and climb down the citadels shattered staircase spine,”
And bypass the symptoms of asphyxia "en masse"
“Listen Eternity, listen,” we cry, pulsing to the beat of defeat,
and now she too is diagnosed with an acute pneumothorax.
"They've hit me where the heart was,
and it’s stolen my breath," she cries.
For nothing so decadent has declared such a disease upon us,
and such a thing as saviour resisted the impulse to intervene,
so count the number of tiers that fell, for I saw but two.
And on our knees we stood like a ruin.


"Dear Eternity, thank you for the size of this infection you bestow."

The teary-eyed Temporals watched as her tiny hand planted a ripple
into the overflow gutter, that’s dried out of puddles and doused
with droughts, a crater that contains the gutted collations of
constellations, colliding with streetlamps that encircle the pathways
like cairns.

"I hate you for the hopelessness this epistolary portrays."

And without a care in the world the ripples cessation was met, before
it even began, before her hand had ever gotten wet, she had believed
upon a star, her hope of saviour, and now above its shell she eyes with
her reticent ret...ret...ret...retina, enticed by the light at the edge of the
horizon, for her wish bestowed upon its bedraggled back to rise, like a child;
quarantined on the quite, its the last hope in a world now preying for its own
survival, and that of a "pure" Temporal and her fight to see through the night.
Eternity wisp, whispered; "I hope you'll be a great support and comfort to me.”
As her apathetic breath produced a 'Please' as her signature cities fell
in an apologetic portrait of union with her hand, consolidated by the
concrete beside her aureole....

"What good can your wish be when your aspiration is to die?"
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Last edited by The Hurt Within at Oct 13, 2007,
When you said long I thought just a bit above the average length, I didn't know you mean that, lol. I've had to crack out a very old piece, which I'm not really happy about, each of them is now a separate piece I've re-written. Oh well. Good Luck.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.