Psycho- Confessions Exerpts

Psycho- Confessions Exerpts

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Summary

These are exerpts taken from the book 'Psycho- Confession'. Also they are not in any perticular order, or chapter order.

Summary

These are exerpts taken from the book 'Psycho- Confession'. Also they are not in any perticular order, or chapter order.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Psycho- Confessions Exerpts

Author Chapter Note

These are exerpts taken from my book 'Psycho- Confession'

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 09, 2012

Reads: 447

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: April 09, 2012

A A A

A A A

BookCoverImage(1).jpg'Psycho- Confessions'

'A Psychological Confession of a
manifested realization that
we are all born of the same conversation'

An Anthology by:
Matthew Wayne
©10/27/2011


“Calm your spirits, center your bliss
take my hand and walk with me,
take a deep breath, close your eyes and believe.
Whisper to me all of your fears,
my fallen Angel who's been brought to tears”


'Crimson Sunset' – Unknown written date.
“I feel compelled to write, so I write. It's ironic seeings how writing even if it's just notes, or completed sonnets they are my only true form of expression, I write what I see and what I feel. Many great authors and poets have done the same. I often write before I think, sometimes I get lost to my emotions so deep in thought I don't know what I have wrote until I look it over. Awhile back ago I decided to keep a journal. Now looking back on it, over the hastily scribbled words I see the emotions of a madman, a hopeless romantic, a lost dreamer and even an angry citizen. I ranted on and on about the most trivial stuff, yet at that moment in my life they were the highest of my priorities. I cannot help but pity my own past, and I am not fond of that, for to feel pity on another is to stab the already rusted knife that much deeper into the fool's chest. An added insult which never finds home in any situation. I could never figure out or understand why I felt like my writing could infest a person's mind. Like a plague it opens a gateway to an infectious cancer. Manipulating the readers mind, the harvester to a black death. Where I become my own demon.

It may sound selfish however, I must state that I write for myself alone, not for the readers who happens across this passage. No I would encourage them to write, and write for themselves never for another's pleasure. I hold no regrets in the way I live my life for that matter, and will apologize to no one for breathing the air.”

“Blood flows like oil,
Killing our mother, polluting our soil
Insanity runs wild, with stupidity on the rise
our addiction to violence will be our demise.
War, famine, and greed
losing our humanity like a disease
Death becomes second nature,
determined to bring forth our rapture
a myth we are trying to usher”


I - Overture

II – My Seventh Level

III – Confessions of a Madman

(journal Entries)

IV – A Notion of Thoughts

(Editorials – Commentaries)

V – Random Madness

(Tangents)

VI – A Pathological Muse

(Sonnets - Poetry)

VII – Serenity


© Copyright 2018 DamienHaze. All rights reserved.

Chapters

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