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Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
three syllables
So,
I am waiting dizzy with anticipation
my heart is suspended just above my shoulders
and not quite to my ears, my breathing is heavy-nervous
you see what i want to say is or see is or know is well i
am stumbling over words, phrases, paragraphs
to simply say, i think about you and hope that
you think about me too, because i really want
you to know that i want to know you
and that my stomach feels kind of sick
and my head is starting to pound
my brain is full of only one thought
it's...that there is three words,three syllables
repeating, repeating, repeating
pleasesayyes.
Literature
Cerebral Uprising
Days become a cascade
of insignificance as their ghostly
remnants are borne into retinas.
Mind a-flutter with matters;
light and dark.
Some are starlight and some bend it.
Peristantly fingers grasp at and
entwine solemn syllables
mercilessly as the amnesia
multiplies and endemically spreads.
Brows become knit in concentration
as the flesh weaves
into a mask to help portray
the guise of comprehension.
A rubik's cube turned countless times
where none of the lines match anymore
and the kaleidascope of colours lies scattered.
This enigmatic series of events leads up to one
question -
Why?
It rings within bones
and throbs in between the ribs
as th
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Comments3
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Bien dit.