"Thine Abyss of Abandonment" by: Sebastciaun

The sustenance of senility in sustainable arrays of thought processed mechanics. The irrational sequence of coincidence and coinciding fact of thought constructive mechanisms. The visually audited release of an plethora of infallible and fathoming concept. Thine, with true enlightenment and understanding by the divinity in a subtle surrender to serenity. The selection in tristate and thought trisection bears forth energy upon the mass consciousness plane. Thine energies pollution of diluted constabulary conviction is that which holds a sustainable field of insurrection. Where is thine resurrection begin?! Have all is lost in lesser containment? The beast awakens and thought provoked conviction for striving to thrive in a throbbing vessel such as this. To contain thine own synergy is thine death. To freedoms flask I drink till mine own fill and lend my cup for never wilt it deplete?! Holy grails and imaginary lines of fiction holding bounds of inconceivable boundary. The distance that we share through uncommon factoring is not the factor that which I beat as true nor see to it should be. Thine own face is my own mirror and my own light is dark with hint of destiny becoming mine own fate. The two bisect and form rational construed being, so as it is I am blessed be. Fortunate am I! Thus I have walked upon the high waters of hell and skew energy into the abyss of heaven. The place now I reside. Fading, Jading, Rating all things equal to none and separated by some. Shalt the barriers be broke and all brothers find love. All sisters find freedom. Shalt we find that we all stand together in this broken dream in a wakeful but sleepy, teary eyed place called earth. What shalt I Hope? Upon this there is only such that I can wish and that is such that we find an absolute place and time to confide in imaginary rhyme where we all find solace and peace in the confined words of incoherent signs. This is the abandonment of hope to lighten faith which it shall bear forth its fruition. The shadow in the day and the light in the dark a place where I find a spark to divinely write this as I see it in the Censtcuries of Sebastciaun. BY:Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus

The straight sting of the needle in twilights bliss,
The never ending kiss that leads to more,
The forever preceding hell intertwined with the devils twist.
"The River's Eye"
By; Sebastciaun

The Ventriloquist

The sustained senility I sustain;
the similar and difference to thee which in thy loving and careful words I find sweet shutter of silence thrown towards thine own ear.
The puppet has it's master as the blind conviction of a lovers does it's curse;
Such I find,
 a ventriloquism where mine own heart is the puppet and the master tangles and toys with my own chord.
I continue to dance, I continue to parade about in this constant charade to thine masters decree!
How shall I find an everlasting piece of heart;
In this peace that is an insurrection of my master of puppets and a collection of their tears.
As I am a creation bore forth out of fear and love to dance and prance about under the moon and above the soon.  The cause of my unknown sanity that bleeds forth my resurrected insanity.  Mine own paradox of humility is a reflection of a creation that when taken time to stop!

The roses are sweet and the wine is bitter.
Then again, I take a second glance at the batted eyes of the plague of nations that haunt the enslavement of children and innocent mind and I can only come to a conclusion that what love I may find what love will it do any of those in this day and time?

How to stop?! How to reason!?

The arrogance and pride of monopolized crime but the pain inside sail forth as a vessel upon a never ending sea of hopelessness and forgotten dreams.
 To feel the wind caress my lips and take my breath and lend an ear to the ones in most need of a smiling tear who is it that shall judge the means necessary by the degree of my higher plea?

Once again find solace in the formless nature as we are to be and the nurture of self for there is no one else to care or dream to even pay a ticket, a fare or sit with gossip upon their mind.  Sitting upon their liars chair of jealous and envious plight and the dark shall be light!

A precarious time to live and hear the resonant silence of love but not know the ways in which to reason with the social taboo that is plague upon this world.  Hope, Love, Faith,  whichever I see true in the end for the sake of a picture better painted where there is no death and there is respect for all things that is truly a day I will not see.

So upon a retrospect as I write this dialect with mine own self I have found maybe it is right, or maybe it is inner sight;
Just as it is may be the Ventriloquist who in silence....
Finds the inner peace in the sadistic future of mine own heart.
 whose pieces will forever reflect the endless sea as time passes the dust shall settle and remain a refracted dream that never was and never will be in this shameless world.

Love;

by:
Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus
 

“Mine Pain of Existence”

By: Sebastciaun

Thine own Soul,

 Is thine only piece I have found my peace.

That which kept and saves mine own face inside mine own hell of terrors reign.

For in mind,

Thine own infectious dousing rain!

The subtle infraction upon the lifeless brow upon thy eye!

The stirring force,

A mindless interaction I have seen.

The deaf ear I have heard!

Precarious, I find a mystery in mine daze of counting.

The arrogant steps I take,

the ignorance of breath I make,

the broken love I forever forsake!

When shall it be that mine own hell shall find its end?

Climbing the rungs of a ladder towards another hell,

Forsaking innocent Ones in my path,

 all is seeking of thine foolish pride.

The cadence of my fading radiance,

 Leaving a scent that hints of my own souls death.

The motionless persistence and those that remain in a looped state,

Oh!   Thine minding and pride filled hate!

Leading that which way is of in no way mind to know,

Never shall I express in an array of explicit form what words shall never suppress or adorn.

The lack of true and real affection,

 has left my mind and heart.

This forever soulless state of thine own hate.!

To pain another picture so wide you shall forever know!

It will always be I that is to curse and blame.

I, the beholder of mine own pious plot and player’s folly.

I am that one deceitful soul to blame in this endless Lovers game.

Impure, I wilt.

In vanity I sway and tilt all the more to stain my blackening heart!

All this takes my world another step up the ladder towards the leading rung of mine abyss.!

Inside, I find thine heaven!

I have found Hell!

I have found no other love to seek but the one I forever lost!

Many have laid their swaddled cloth beside mine door,

Many have left the way in which it was they had to come.

Never once did they seek.

Never once did they blink.

Never once did they think!

Never did they take the time to know it is.

I, who stop, I, who never understands, I, am why!

I stopped the possibility of thine lovers dance!

To them they were to never know,

Why it is in my childish fear,

I whisper in their deaf ears.

In mine Love why I shed a tear,

As I lay trembling in mine own fiery bed fear!

A shot of pain,

A sound of sorrow the echoes they can hear.

Their mind at awe but never begin the comprehension.

 The shattered particles I am to never make any excuse or amends.

An equation of logic that denies mine own reason.

Even as seasons come and even as they go,

My heart is torn further from my pain and from my pleasure.

Inside my love!!

How to explain the fury of mine heartless wrath?!

How to explain the weary and tiring eyes,

My death tempting fares are empty and parted dares?

How to explain my loss?

How to explain my love?

How to render a pain upon pleasure in this life that is nothing less,

More and more times,

 I find mine self guilty with living!

I have become mine own pain of existence?!!

Love;

Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus 

"The Devils Fair"

by: Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus

Centrifugal, the serenaded sublime!
Solidity in thy pleading plague for sanities engulfing plane.




The arousal of self indicted laceration of truth;
The veil upon radiance,
the unforgiving translucent mask!

Cordial the spite of thee upon the nature of times;
given upon the moments of thine lifeless tree!
The verbose pronounced upon the canto in thy times masted of three,
How shalt I give the innocence thy slaughter upon thy ignorance?
The stallion thy ride upon thy Death's Charade!

Taking flight upon thine divine and abolished thy astonished face;
Thy have not form nor solidity in my own sight!
Thy reap the vanity and ambiguity of thy endless fate,
Serenade and Bask,
Upon thy soulless and arrogant rays;
The sun's shine and moon's light will radiate upon thy lifeless grave!

The dew of sinister resonance;
A curse that is in my own mind,
Equal to nothing of in surreal subtle time.



Illusions and veils thy cast upon thy faltered flask,
the purity and subliminal process thy cower in thy jaded mask!

For in my own divine;
I have no part;
I have no heart,
I have no equal!
The signs that operate and conceal a seduction,
Cheap and flayed upon thee own End of Daze;
Light and Dark,
Care nothing that part of my perishing sight of Divine!

Heirs and Fakes;
Are all that surround thy raging face;
Thy eyes contain the fuel of fallacy.



The bane of thy ill fated will,
The end of thy words will be thy own demise.




I revel in my own rhyme;
Cower thy eyes,
Cower thy mind;
Cower thy lies upon thy hills thy cast upon surreal defeat!
Thy are nothing but an illusion and veil of levitated deceit!
In thy own time thy will heed the words to the reality of the wise;
Coming soon to find that in thy beginning;
Thy own alpha is that of my omega!
The difference and significance in the spherical sustenance is the banishment of all hope,
Gives loving light and never failing sight!

This is the never faltered alter,
that of perfection;
that resonance of the guild upon thine manifest!

The forever blind shall never heed the wisest of rhyme;
Come and feel the altered meal;
The feast of thine plenty!
The Devils Beast!
The perished heat and fire among radiant mesh;
A tangled web among thy tongue;
Cast a circle and fine thy fare;
Among a selected fare;
This is the nature of the Devils Fair!

By: Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus

Thine End of Daze
Category: Life

"Thine End of Daze"
by: Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus

The ceasing nurture upon thine Intentions;
While thy boast!

Thine Own Disease
Current mood: betrayed
Category: Friends

The Withered Love;
The Severed Dove;
Serenity in the Piece I Find in my Subtle Rhyme.
Canto upon this Time of Divine Surreal Time!

Thou has left Mine own Thine for Dead!
Caressed my heart to the Abyss;
The dimensions of hell;
Plaguing the vessel;
Taking my soul to the succeeding levels!

Divine is the Pit where I sit upon the Liars Chair;
Throne, befit for Only I who sit upon My Own Writ!
The rite of sealed blood and stained plight;
paralyzed minds avast surround the nature of my fame stricken tassel!
Swift as the Tale moves as the Dragon Slips unto Another Slit!
Ah! Forsaken for the Divine Sweat sweeping across Thy Brow,
Another stride from the Dragon is Inside of Thy;
The mind, The Eye, Never give in to thyself and Deny!
This right that of mine which is that;
Thine is Mine, I am Divine!
Pure evil!?
 and Dragon am I?!

Resonance of Truth!?
 my Bearer of Light?!

Truth is not which thou hast seek!
Thy seek est veils and masks painted upon their mural of Illusion!


Casting thy circle;
 The loops to thee back in times of Three!
 of thy own limited panted and muted mime!
Comes forth;  as my mirror hoists its cast back unto thee!

I am bore not of form,
Solid Not I,
Blind I See, Forth Willing I!
 Strive harder as the Last!!?
 Softest with the Touch Am I!
Fluidity Sweeps thy Womb;
Validity in Mine Epic!
 Thine Soliloquy of Mine Divine!
 Witch is That!?
 Sweeping Tails in an Endless Tale;
Thee, Thy Striving Force that thou Love Unto Me!
It is until;
 I lay rest and piece that giveth back forth unto Thee!
I End Thy Vow!

Forward and Stumble thou wilt,
Forever Nourished thou art;
Endless and Soulless is Eye!
Forsaken!
 Thou must be,
To endlessly think;
Thou hold thy candle flicker flask,
Have thee unto me thee power to deceive.

Thine divinities restless sight!
Is that which brew in your endless night,
Haunted are Thy?!
By the Beauty of the Lovers Wilt;
Sacred as Lily in Her Amaranth Blossom!

Cursed upon thy naught!
 Given in to thy Ignorance;
 I give unto thy words caught!

So roll upon thy bed sit in turmoil as I bleed my love in this severed endeavor;
Restless be Forever In Thee Form of thy Turmoil!
Sit upon thy Hell in Endless Toil!
For thy have spilled thy spirit for thine own divine!
Forsaken Me and My Righteous Lovers Please!
Thou Love was not even close to being Thine Own Disease!


with Love;

Sebastciaun T. Censtcuriaus

The Censtcuriaus Crest

Why it is I Cry
Category: Life

"Why it is I Cry"

Heed I say to thine own self is the reason for my wasting less of thine own restless mess.  Thine Own Divinity is That which I mean as My Own Divinity.

Nothing more than a restless kiss, the wilted, withered bliss of a silted lame tenure of my own venture.

The kiss of thy sweet opium, a tasteless yet shameless mess that is in thine own kiss; I ask in mine own arrogance and shielded ignorance what is it ye have as ye own opiate?

Thine is pill; thine is a worthless sense it flows forth!
It comes with my dollar and cents;
Sulking my pain, restless is my mind all in my arrogance pleaded in vain.
Never to evoke the same in this endless game.
A fortune locked with the sweet opiate releasing it’s cursed blessing so jealously enduring its never ending endeavor!

Forever it plagues the curse but yields the blessing!
Never ceasing to take me to that state of bliss, sending myself a daunting night of endless oceans as to strike and yield forever a mirror of thy own kiss!

The radiance of my vessel decays as she visits my dream, the shameless blame I must place upon this pill that plagues my formless endured vanity!
The sanity bred forth my own insanity
Oh, Such a plea!
My dear opiate...

How can it be to bring me such a state of pleasure but yield the eager pain that shatters this mirror I place upon a silence I see among my own state!
Is it in thine own self I must be true, To never yield a word of invalid solidity to my own nature of vanity to prove my insanity.

Shall I kiss my own bliss to nurture thy void filled wound!
Striking my heart, Scarred as my soul;
Will there ever be enough to fill this empty whole?!
The holes of Love shot with precise ambiguity to control thine passion to drive my romanticism all for thy little pill.
Ill it seems, so real it is true as it hinders my speech!
Killing my vein, the restless name of thy opiate!
The haunting halls of thy opiate remain!
Will I ever muster thine own strength above thine own signal of benign.  To find that the world that surrounds thine own name is worthy of mine own line!  To wield and yield any other opiate that is causing thine own sanity, Oh! My mercy I plea is for thine own sanity!

Words nor spirits from thy divinity can never relinquish the endless vessel that encapsulates and cages my being.  The dainty rite of my own sight has given birth to thine own opiate that hemlocks dry night cannot deny their sight!

Thy jealous sight and thy mindless plight, upon thy remains another opiate upon the dens that bring forth the demons with thy pills held upon endless heights!

Oh, shall i last another night so you will condemn my very precious sight! My wrongful state of the words that come too soon but always retain their validity none to late.

Belated in thine own nature is where I find that I am nothing more than a conversation mixed with a soliloquy!

Monotonous is the dialog with thine own dialect that never seems to amend what thy own sight can validate under thy minds sight!

I am never to know where it is I shall go!  I am never to know what hills i must go!  I am never to know what castle I must continue to sow!
So I can shield you from ever seeing me in your Jealous Sight!
To cry my own tears and taste thy own fears! To lay myself at thy own feet so at night you can curse my own fight, Curse my very sight!, Curse that I may have been right!

When it is I, Who late at night Lie in his pillow streaming the tears that I have not found myself spending time with thine own love through more time in the centuries passed.... Oh! How many years has it been since we danced in thy own den!

To relish in thine own sin could never pay the debt owed to me thousand times I fold, wonder my own wrongs and rights weighed at thee own sight!

To shield my voice from thy own deaf ears! To shield my soul from thy own mold!  Where is it I must Go?

Where is it I must Go?  So it is I who end satisfy thy Opiate that has bore nothing but thy pure and restless hate for seeing me inside your eye sight!

Must it be now, I Jump at Thy own beckon call to run with thine own armor and shield held to the night sky! And run to my rabbit hole where I find the solidity of my fluid soul!

Forever to remain in my dreams is the nature of my beast as it seems to never fault in my mind I see.  To never see you in my life as ages and doom continues to haunt the moon.  Seeing thy sight and thy love beside my pillow is a tearing song I have to sing!

In my own confident plea of pure and hated decree! I waste my tears and wipe them from my tasteless eyes, I touch them to thine own lips to see if it is I; Who still render a savor of taste!

Must it be my broken heart it will forever deem! That it is in my own hind and fore sight of things that are being my Godly might to never see a night you hear my tear?

Should it be so gay for me to write my words in and through the years. Many a tears these are pain yielded words I hope in my time they will reach thy ears!  Forever to know that it is never for me to sow a love as pure as thy in you.

For in my eye I will never waste my time and give an envious sigh for I know not an arrogant lie!  For I know I am never to mean the world in your heartless eye to see my soul in thy hand, to see my heart in thy eye, but it is you to never read my words and know that as perish in my own rhyme I do nothing more than write and cry!

Maybe it is my lovers lie, Maybe it is a heartless lie; In time there is no way to tell the truth from lie!

As I continue to right my shameful life on this worthless illusion that is all nothing more than someone else stealing my life.

I hope in time that you will always find time to know why it is I cry!


by:

Wrapped Around Death’s Shaded Collar
Category: Life