Wicked Doctor, The Wickedest Doctor In The Streets

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  No Houses
And, the voice of such a shape named " Word ", spoke :

Submitted: March 02, 2019

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Submitted: March 02, 2019

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I am hardly called for comfort, yet I have become pronounced to appear.

The justice of my calling is somthing akin to death that has suffered a draught, dry dirt shoveled over the Earth of my bright ideas.

 

Ocassionaly, I gather a flower, or listen to a bird, watch a tree sway in the breeze.

The wits I know are strange and merry,

and, the oddness of my lies and truth, always seem glared upon with glee.

 

With each surgical moment I, attain nothing,

all but for, green buds and dried leaves to scatter,

in the beauty of my natural decay.

 

All that I have spoken honestly with sincerity have a paltry feeling of ungratified solidarity,

so, with the merit of my limitless pen, 

I continuosly perform one last operation,

over and over,

again.

 

In the molten lava of my rotted veins, where cavernous volcanoes of sulfurous tales fester,

I have waxed the models of human faces, taking the form of agony,

with fearful mysteries of a charmed-house,

upon the instruction of my art,

to fuel the fire of my refreshment.

 

Craving the vicinity of a human being,

I have settled upon my corroded anguish,

throwing charm like a heightened touch of expression,

and, by all comparison, the intimacy and compassion

of my gift.

 

The companions of my thundering mountenous words,

should never be ill-directed by my imagination.

 

Lest ,I become a dismal temperamant of feelings and fancy,

never awakened to be formed;

a baffled creature of love.

 

Uncalled upon.

 

The unfolded labor of creativity, 

becomes my art,

without a tool, a voice, or an approach,

I operate with patient splendor,

the patient of my own,

driven strangeness.

 

 

To wickedly speak you alive.

 


© Copyright 2020 Dr. Acula. All rights reserved.

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