Category Archives: Equality

Writing Has No Destination

Writing is like a staple, it fiercely penetrates the skin. You never understand why its there, until its out on the page. But its something you did to yourself, it had to be brought out because you couldn’t do anything more if it hadn’t. There’s no goal, there’s reason no reason for any of it honestly. It’s like shaving your head, getting rid of all the little strands of hair is difficult but you feel free when its done. A potential gun to the head, as it presses against your temple. It waits for you to act, but has an idea that you would choose the other way. You have to hurt yourself, to find the peak. The sky point, just right before the falling. I guess its the most dangerous thing you can do. Because its the most vulnerable you are, there’s nothing like putting some on paper.

Creator And Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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The Man With No Resolution

It began with a whimper, then a trust worthy sigh. That I frankly never wished was so. Uncanny he came, sweeping you off your feet with fast promises. Never blaming or casting doubt into the winds. He first took your sight, which came from the skies on insults. I blissfully recall this action, I didn’t ask for this much more than that. I can still feel it coming over the hillside, smashing feet like a thousand drums beating me down. He was once a clown, drenched in the sweat of the masses laughter. But it was all a show, it all became known throughout the memory. Of things that had passed through before. I guess we’ll never hear the truth, it would never come without the price.

Creator And Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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Distilled, Yet Remorseful

Misconduct while tapping on the steel drum, they told you that you could handle this brush with travesty. A sad gesture, with a tainted frolic in blinded housing in which that maker came with an instructional outlet. You did the opposite turning, in wasn’t forward in your showing just yet. You lost all sense of dignity and components, I feel for these times of labored frivolousness. You were all empty minded, it felt as if I could not struggle for the right to oppose. Callous were these objects of triumphant spearing, would you find a rule of for these words that tore down. Would you fall apart, would it be nothing more than blessed intrusions for the afflicted.

Creator And Contributor- Chris Ballenger

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Crisp Glass Shards

I knock, but it’s all hollow. Why would I enter, but there’s a fire from the cold. I can hear it crack, yet it’s insincere and synthetic. I could touch it, but I avoid it because it feels unnatural. I sit on the steps of leisure, waiting for whomever to pass by without any sort of measuring stick to guide my pathway. Are the walls motionless, do they make me swim from my current destination. Those traditions are lifeless, they blend in a crowd of filthy borrowers.  The imagined you would take a fall, you figure ments blended ever so slightly with them inside. They gasped for air, it smelled like fresh paint on a phobia. Those large sentient planets, they floated like bulbs that lit up your world.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

Winds Of Indifference

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Winds pear to view your activity’s from days into weeks, the brisk air hits your face but is searing from the sunlight. Piercing your skin with spears, made of hot iron tips. They gleefully taunt you, never anticipating a come back. Writhing in agony, you work tirelessly for the advantage but it never comes. Without the elemental awareness, feeding your senses that no person can win the prize. An introduction is feasible, without a withered eye in hinderance of blotting your features. A pack filled with false sequences,  it moves from your grip but maybe you comprehend why. Forever will I be your anchor, in the blinded eyes of the fortress of wonder. We chase the light from your embodiment, the foregrounds lift in defiance in a realm of indifference. 

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

Whistles Bend To A Will

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Wounds and whistles bend the counter argument, they blare the sound waving their palms in pleasing of trees that bind the traps of aberrations. You blend into a majestor of frothing matters that blend themselves together inside. Fishing out the lures, they squirm outside the seashore in lofting. We pursue these withering Mavericks, clashing with the titans of an olden period. These conflicts become detrimental, brushing with death of another mannerism. Ghosts of a tribal carlift, they hastened the square pegs foregrounds fell in deep with the enemy. The freedom is within grasp, as if a wind blew in time for you to grab hold of these statures. One found solace, the other searched for it in the infinite wisdom without luck to guide them.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger

Cold Bones

You have no values with you its all nihilsm cynicism sarcasm and orgasm

Muscle struggle for air in the sought, they entrap them with devious intentions. They equally transfer their discontent, forward seeping through the muck of a maniacal wave of figuration.  Nothing but a equivocal pastore, smooth and saturated on the fence. The deliverance in a sorcerers room,  he conjures a hellacious mess in these hallways. The walls crinkle at a mere glance, you stare in the corner of this embezzled and broken stature. Fizzled out, stacked one on top of the other in complete weariness. Crickinles of imaginary kilters, a fortress of solitude that preserves you from harm. There are limits to your equation, found in truth of the brigade of slanderous namesake. Virticular winter,  its cold and damp and can be felt in your bones beneath the surface.

Contributor- Chris Ballenger