Poem of Quotes Members

'20/'21

our explosions in your sky will wake the worms
I've searched this vast blackness far and wide
so please, Andromeda, take me in those words
make me breathe in those high climactic sighs

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There are times when the words I say hold no purpose
other than to display that you were in my thoughts
(like now, for example, I have no point to make)

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Defeat

I stop myself from speaking -
as all too often the words I hold
lack in having any meaning

(they don't reach as I'd like them to)

so, I anxiously bite at my fingernails
and look into a cracking inner mirror
the reflection is a smooth bit of nothing

there's a pit or some other abyss
sitting in my stomach
home to many aches

sharp as emptiness in the rib's labyrinth
as the air for an analogue thought
claws its way from my lungs
before falling into my esophagus

another moment choked down
to be dissolved and ultimately lost

(I don't even find the will to stretch)

and I think I might be rather broken
as that fragmented glass' follows me
- its lesions decay the light
stolen right from my dream spring

I corrode where the connections were
and feel the wound of their absence

(compromised of rust and ice)

the schisms burn in the memory
curling off slivers of abandoned metal
left to sit uncovered in heavy rain

do not try to touch me
- as I forgot how to handle warmth
do not tell me I am more
than a thing to leave behind

my company are those worms below
and there is nothing above me

(they swallowed the sky
gone from mind's eye
I'd like to return to life
but I don't know if I
was ever even alive)

don't come to lend some love
as I've no idea what to do with it
and it leaves a mark long after
it is gone - another running stain
where there are no words
to describe the depths of its seeping
other than "through"

I have little more to bleed
and only few pieces remain
in that mirror

the rest had been stripped in tiny shards
with each piece gone growing dimmer
becoming colder; floating further
in ashes that no longer smoulder

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Id

I don't mind shedding skin
- reaching through and reaching in

pulling out an illusion
neck deep in my mire
soft ground gripping feet

shallow river slowly flowing
in echoes of slurry muck
thick veils obscure the line
but I will drown here
before I accept not being
as I am on the other side

I must walk
through the water
to ever touch the land
retaining a memory
without returning

or she will never wake.

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Your words are light in a broken tabernacle
ensorcelling corners as only an esper could

I was mud below shattered wood flooring
your blurring incantation reached even me

and I didn't believe in magic until the sway
of your mysticism dried earth and dug me out

to be dirt between your curling toes
until the sky's weeping washed me away

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the thing you don't know is
I was yours the moment you
showed me who you were
and who you wanted to be

I was yours so wholely
the moment I heard your
voice - soft-spoken and
impossibly sweet

I'd stretch my arms toward
you above the frigid water
I'd have stayed yours
if it were up to me

I'd have stayed yours
in the winter with cracking knees
in the spring - flowers blooming
in the summer - beneath scathing heat

I'd have walked through the rocks
and I probably still would
I don't know how to leave
anything behind once I hold it

I am just a fool - this I know
but I am a fool for you alone
and a fool I will invariably stay
perhaps this makes me weak

I know that I can manage
or even thrive in this quiet
and it wouldn't be so hard
but I'd rather hear you speak

I'd rather stay by your cage
than see a golden horizon
and pine for the day
that you are set free

I'll stay by you in the empty
and cold places you are in
because it would be cruel
to be alone and lonely

I'll be lonely with you
in the dark and noiseless
to try to share your longing
in the collapsing debris

I'll be there if you call out
because that's what love is
I'll not leave you in a ruin
when the stone is heavy

I'll be there during the fall
god please forbid it happens
but if the sky finds its way down
I'll be crushed with you happily

not because I want to make
some silly sacrifice for ego
not to try to be some hero
but because I am yours; simply.

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Íchisshe


A swelling of noise - these sunset thoughts
music that is hard to count, but easy to feel
slow - but connected by a perihelion thread
tied to sol - the proximity found in waves
and our heartbeats always land right on time

the universe sings dawn and dusk through us
when we dance in the nocturne absent worry
for that waiting moment to find its way inside
what little space there is between our sway
I would say there's nothing better than this

a crescendo skyward until eyes meet and
an understanding this song will one day end
yet, it doesn't matter - we need only tonight
to reach our interlude hidden in the zenith;
enthralled in the rhythm of lucidly being.

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An ego - like sandpaper burns without justification
a persona - kinwashi paper upon a sterile lattice
acting as a shield to obscure a filthy corner
but the **** can be smelled before the threshold
and rice starch won't stop roaches from crawling

cover, cover, come now, cover it up - play pretend
like one does when someone catches a whiff;
just how high are you on your own excrement?
from what can be seen from here, you're deluded
convinced that people will keep buying your emptiness

so pragmatic - find the connection and exploit it
concerned and honest - when it can serve a deceit
I've seen you - oh, yes - I have seen you hiding
away the fragile insecurities behind a dense facade
but you'll inevitably undo yourself before too long

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she was draped in viridian cloth with golden accents
her eyes appeared like coffee with milk stirred in
bright as smoky quartz above vermilion candlelight
an iron ring was around her finger with a celadon gem
her silhouette divided the waxing moon's tepid embrace
and her voice was that of the utmost silky water
wheeling through the passage in my desert ears
an oasis pouring freely from her aural conjuration
as she drew closer - she placed her palm upon mine
light flared from the meeting in brilliant aureolin tides
and solace was found in her breaking of the night

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strain amid the darkness to hold the sliver
an ink tinged tendril grips around the skin
leaving an imprint within the withering
eyes dart; scanning for detail not present

suspended inside a tiring void
nipping at the psyche's thread
tenuous stitch-work slowly frays
as ideas spill into a black sea

sleep will come in the company of shades
disembodied echoes carry omens of woe
hiding behind veils of gloom and inadequacy
until all is soiled to join them in formlessness

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Autumn's Hand into Winter

Awaiting the chill to come through the air
as the harbinger of winter's dervish
twirls in leaves departed from their home
in a clear night where stars are staring
at us from a seemingly unmoving sky
with voices carried by that cooling wind
their whisper is a portent of the wilting
that precedes a serene elegance
- the stillness of a glowing landscape
where in the early morning we could be
no closer to the blessing of her abyss

and I'll look upon it because it's there
I'll feel it kiss my eyes; holding the purpose
as it returns to droplets and I am shown
that what seems to be holds no bearing
on what I might see if I keep open eyes
with a squint when my vision grows dim
when all is upsidedown as the world's tilting
some shy away from Sol in their reverence
to return to the earth before his fires' scathe
and shatter the resting cycle of sleeping trees;
if you see Winter's face in the cold; consider it a gift

for it is never guaranteed to rebirth or remain

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Staring into Everything

I                                                     
        still                                         
                  wonder      in      gilded   
                                                              gaze
                      if        these    spheres
        will
                          spell                    out
              always                                    name
                                                          your

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I had this whole idea about
this little town where the darkness
whispers as it does when we sleep
in susurrus tones covered in grey
where morality is a topic for debate
and demons rest behind the walls
making sounds to draw attention
a small, nearly suffocated

tap, tap, tap

one where people inject anxiety
while lying to themselves about
the lack of purpose on a broken path

life is good, God is great
buy our garbage for a prayer
sale ends soon, don't be late

tap, tap, tap

a set of faces on a screen
trying to convince you
there's some looming fear
mounting in the distance
as if we aren't already doomed
from some silly little paradox

tap, tap, tap

next channel is just a little
"Raise hell, praise Dale" on a loop
heavens above; mind your lefts, man

and the next is a classic;
"they might have done those things
but you weren't in their headspace"

tap, tap, tap

people are walking caricatures
regurgitating second hand opinions
as if they came to the conclusion
before anyone else ever thought, ever
and the conclusion is fact
because, y'know, reasons

tap, tap, tap

"Honey, I think there's rats in the wall"
"Oh dear, should I call an exterminator?"
"well, I doubt they'll kill themselves"
"if only we could be that lucky"
"I know, right? It'd be so convenient"
then the scene would fade with a

tap, tap, tap

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I used to see you in puddles
holding reflections of an overcast sky
clouds merge and part in your rainbow mirror
and distract from the pessimism in this grey

your hue held magic in an artificial world
- I'd nearly forgotten that I was little more
than a set of wires held by a calcium cage
speaking in a set of ones and zeroes

and I was grasped by a force so subtle
that it seemed as if it were decided by a die
cast behind clouds to draw us nearer
as the drops of the roll came into play

seeing sparks as the lines were blurred
when my tangled incomplete connection met yours
the shock was palpable in each breath I'd take
right up to the point we shorted out; so it goes.

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Sifting through moments gone
I could quote you like my favorite song
and in so many ways - you are

there's something musical in
the way you speak and I fell
hard as I hummed your melody

(And often off key)

knowing me, I'll chase the idea
of being locked in your tempo
but I'm simply far too clumsy

I doubt I'm probably your "one"
but damnit, I sure do wish I was
and with luck, I'll be on the 'b' side

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Fading


In the center of an overgrown field
of crabgrass and browning roses
rests a lonely abandoned house
the wood there is cracked 'n' rotting
its stoop creaks in pained sighs
as the last of its paint flakes away
a slight smell of mahoghony
peeks by the decay and dust
a hint of something once complete

through the portal 'round the back end
particles float as though unable to find
their anchor on kitchen counter tops
instead moving as a smoke-like haze
dancing as if they were remembering
an imprint of what might have been
as breakfast was made on an old stove
that rusts below a pantry for spices
left cold 'n' empty in its destitution

its living room's carpet held depressions
from the legs of a loveseat and chairs
a table remains marred by coffee stains
burn marks from strong cigars forgotten
light shines through a hole in the roof
casting shadows as a visible beam
as it had in a memory of parted curtains
between the air of a faint conversation
only silence reigns in this place now

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Your voice left an empty space in my brain
I essay to remember, but I am left with
an obstreperous pinging in my failure
veiling the corners with spurious detail
yet, for an aching moment gravity ignored
me; I was retained by a divergent source
and I'd have gathered dust in that embrace
falling, but weightless - I pine to believe
that hurling toward the earth could create
a whirling of tones jutting up through the air
that sonic spheres would carry some whisper
to quell the dissonance resting pitifully
between my ears.

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If you could pick three superpowers...

In a comic world, what would they be?

You could be invinicible, invisible, or sling fireballs
perhaps wear the power of the great Nabu
or be immortal, undying and control time itself
yet, none of these are among what I'd choose

I'd instead choose the power to see
anyone's sadness or fear and take it away
I'd choose to walk as a healer of the heaviest spirits
and place a tuft from a phoenix over all the tired hearts
as a catalyst to show them that life is worth living
that it's worth taking risks to see how worth living it is

then I'd choose the power to enter nightmares
with a slender blade in hand and a dimlight periphery
so I could hold it starward; as a symbol of hope
where shimmers otherwise never seem to reach

and perhaps some will bend a knee for the Dream
when they see the battered armor that speaks

"I will fight for you in the darkest breach
even if you're too fatigued with to stand with me
and should those demons come - they'll need
to go through me to get to you"

and when they wake in a glimmering morning
they'll be one to see the sun again with misted eyes
as the realization dawns upon them that they are free
a victor of the mind's deepest stained battlefield
released from their digging shackles in a pale night

to the man who weeps when no one's around
and with hums to the twisted and to the damned
applying salve betwixt the wounded and the mad
an esuna of flame that offers reprieve in a cold world

and for the third power - I'd choose to never tire
to hold the Vigil each dusk and unto every dawn
to hold fast to the virtue that love is stronger
than the shadows that rest between the two

that scars or cuts unseen should still be tended
so if I could be one who needn't ever sleep
I could stop the bleeding before it hits the skin
at any hour that I would notice a portent of silence
or when a burden is too heavy - I would help carry it
so I can have my silly little cliche of a one-liner

"We lift together"

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I was waiting here
hoping that
someone
might
come along
in their wandering
on this road

clasped hands
held above my ribs
a signpost
that reads
"Where are you?"
a scar from friction
away from my home

besieged
and weary
but the gate still stands
the answer
was never the point
a question
holds enough power on its own

if I blur away
in subtle movement
as a dot
drawn on distant lines
it means that I merely wasn't
meant to go further
or atleast, that's what I suppose

looking for the rain
to drench me
and hold itself against the cloth
close enough
to fool me into believing
I am not
alone

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Dead Grass


I saw your reflection
undulating in the abyss
it's burnt into my brain
as a fractured recollection
half-present, yet I knew
your face in dry, dead grass
from a distance where I am
inundatedly convinced
it could not have been
anything otherwise

my knuckles turned white
at the gripping of cold, bitter air
reddening the skin
of a palm growing raw
its blood dripping in
strenuous rhythm
their dirge in passing
quickly closing around
a shrinking colorless aura

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Seems lately I'm drowning in ink
bug guts, mineral scent of running zinc
I think it's best if I was still asleep
enough to be unaware and numb
from a bed of ice after that burning
sensation and I succumb to the desire
to stay perfectly in place

yet, it's clear I'll clench my teeth until
they begin to ache, eventually cracking
from the weight of a fool's jaw
gums left raw and bleeding
- and it's so tiring, all.

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spirals reaching out from a dizzying eclipse
silver strands twist within a pale, warm mist
veils of insomnolence lift from starry skies
carried by the force of our empyrean sigh
we spoke in galaxies as children of earth
growing to deny the fallacies as we learn
we were always meant for greater things
as a harmony that only we as one can sing;
a lullaby of gaseous form in a sea of sleep
for the dreamer, it is as wide as it is deep

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The flaws upon the skin of the goddess
are beauty marks to the eyes of a believer
though she covers from being self-conscious
She is beautiful; I know because I've seen her.

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Find me in the sea of yellowing grass
where leaves shift from wind's bellowing mass
signs of daylight crawling behind bright eyes
chewing on the last breath before it hides
mute and gazeless; time moves in slow bites
held tight and fastened 'round an overgrown divide
might be that I'm a ghost sore from the wondering
my ground erodes and I find I make for a poor island
sounds elude my voiceless attempts at muttering
all I hear are utterances from wave-born crashing
deep lacerations from water lashing against land
that had already been bone-drenched and bled-out
losing skin in the push and pull of its cacophony
resolved to recede as an eidolon lost from dreaming
of a burning sphere that refuses to break over horizons
near the bruised haven where I'm waiting for you.

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Wake Up

That falsed light offers no comfort
      it burdens eyes accustomed to dark
              spreading its lie through crevices
                  where it was meant to be absent
                wearing the mask of sacred morning
          worthless gold dawn above the heads
      of those thinking themselves as awake     
  and aware - we're still sleeping
inside the illusion of a pyrite city

        I hear the susurrations of Alniyat
                trying to stir us to consciousness
                      through dissonant prisons of velvet
                            veils covering the oxidized metal bars

          they're so weak and we could easily break them
    with the strength in our combined heartbeats,
but when is it that they'd beat together?

  We're either comfortable, jaded, faded
          waiting, hoping, or woefully out of touch
                busy finding ire, being tired - pretending
                        that we know better, and for what?

I'm living in reflections that don't mean anything
                      (but - I can feel you)                     
        my dilated pupils are deceitful mirrors; I see you
                      (looking through the noise)
              tearing at loose threads on glittering ribbons
                      (refusing this game)
        the dirt under your nails whispers of a rebellion
                      (rejecting a convenient lie)
I'm with you; it's about time we open our eyes           

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the waves don't bother me

I'll be here when I grow frail
set to sea; those battered sails
with my arms to help your standin'
in the storm as a companion

I don't need to know where we're goin'
pushed to wherever winds are blowin'

I'm not worried about the straying
if the ship sinks, I'll be staying
don't warn me about the water
I won't leave; I cannot falter

no, I don't mind if it's all broken
I've to hear the words when they're spoken

I'll look beyond about any mistake
trust that I won't turn you away
you don't need my forgiveness
there's nothing to be sorry for to begin with

I'll write your dreams on a piece of paper
try to find them through all the vapor

I'm not worried about the straying
if the ship sinks, I'll be staying
don't warn me about the water
I won't leave; I cannot falter

Put it on me; I'll meet your wager
you're not a burden; this isn't labor

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Asylum

I awoke in some sort of cell
fires of a dying sun warmed my tired bones
a knight drops a key to my prison's door
attached to the corpse of some poor bastard
though I know nothing of where I am
or even who I was - I won't go hollow here

Upon the sight given beyond my wooden occlusion
my blood turned cool beneath my scarring skin
there was filth in the form of dirty rats and dried viscera
with these gauntly "people" banging their heads against
these coarse, stone walls

Something told me to attack them, but I hadn't the weaponry
nor did they offer any real threat to begin with
(that and while I detested them, I might have known them)

Pushing onward, I found myself in a small square
near the center, there was a collection of half-burnt
sticks and the ashen remnants of a fatigued log
a sword with a twisting spiral blade stuck from it

at my kneeling touch, it was lit aflame
for one, hallow moment -
this broken world melted away
replaced by a sunrise with golden hue

when it returned, I felt renewed
like I'd slept after days without rest

then I stood and opened the large doors before me
after a matter of a few seconds, a creature descended
with its many horned head, and small bat-like wings
which might have been black comedy on its obese body
as it towered over me with an idiot's insidious gaze

Fearful, I saw an opening along the left wall
so I ran like hell, almost enough for stains of flight
to visit my trousers - that thing was a demon
and it happens to block my way out of here

Once I entered the doorway
a gate closed behind me and
my only way to go was forward
so forward I went

arriving at these steps and as I walked up them
someone tried to kill me by rolling a boulder down
yet, I managed to jump before I was crushed beneath
hearing a wall break from its sheer weight

going to the opening, I saw the very same man
who offered me the macabre key to escape
His name was Oscar, and he was a knight of Astora
mortally wounded, I listened to his tale and request

"...keep the torch lit...thou who art undead, art chosen..."

go to the ancient land of lords
ring the bells of awakening
so I may know the fate of the undead
am I... chosen?

walking back up those steps
after finding an old scimitar
making my way to the platform
where the demon of asylum
tried to ambush me from above

this time, I'd drop on it
aiming to embed my blade
as deep as I could muster
right into its skull

jumping from the ledge
Oscar's words emboldened me
my strike was true
the edge met between the horns
dazing the grotesque beast

It may have beaten those sorry souls
that offered it little contest
I would not suffer it easily

remembering who I was as steel
met the demon's leathery flesh
a wanderer of the great swamp
one who'd faced things more treacherous

it would try to swing its massive mace
clumsily about to flatten me out
but I was keen on avoiding such a fate
our ground trembled with each crushing strike
yet I refused

when it fluttered those tiny wings to lift itself up
I denied it the opportunity to make a killing blow
for mine had already been made
convulsing in death throes before returning to dust
I was the victor that would proclaim
though I am no knight or noble
an oath is an oath
and you were in my way

Outside the asylum was a cemetary and sheer cliffs
looking upon the wilderness, I felt its loneliness
I was all at once much too aware of my own
treading to the very end, I considered for a brief time
if it would be better if I merely stepped into oblivion
then a friend, a massive crow or raven grabbed me
plucking me from the ruined ground, I spoke...

"Lordran, I must go to Lordran."

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I recognize that I'm
just a tiny, strange part
of the universe's dust,
but I care about you.

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Lucid.

the world was so perfectly still
liquid lids rain in numbing mist
I walked as an ocean, flowing through
diminutive gashes in untrue fabric

claiming with its one thousand thread
smile that it would contain my tide
as if I'd not wring myself out

I have cut mountains
from sharp peaks to rolling hills
with the softest touch

my measured stride is
aware of the steps needed
to wave its way anywhere

maelstroms ease at the edge
of my hand; I tread
as water that could touch
the heavensward auroras

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Insouciance


empty chairs set under a blank table
growing particles of disinterest
a downward gaze clearly displays
indifference leaves no tracks on tile

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those waves are just below the epidermis
containing elder portraits in their memory
of things they know but have never met
echoing a voice that one could hear

but can't quite place

reflections of different worldy ceilings
that were painted on forgotten maps
buried within a labyrinthine undertow
their riddle contained in helical text

sacred recollections

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Cigarettes & Whiskey

an ashtray sits upon a composite counter
with a singular cigarette burning to nothing
its neighbors are half-smoked and staling
stains of anxiety on a cabinet's underside

there's a glass filled with an iced bourbon
melting imprints formed by shaky fingertips
a ring at its base from seeping perspiration
some watered serpent trying to eat its tail

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Home

There will be a time
when I've dreamed my final dream
on this pale, blue speck

awakened and again
witnessing a true morning
once cycles reset

walking distant coasts
that lack in temperature
muddling senses

to be infinite
a well that cannot run dry
from timeless sipping

free of gravity
as grains of the hourglass
float within its waist

speaking the endless
returned to the tapestry
which I would call home

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What was missed?

There's a trail I've gone on in countless steps
overgrown branches stretch to meet another
the fluidity of contact blinking through sunlight
echoing familiarity to a forest's floor

the firm concave surface must have known
strides aplenty in its time growing deeper;
I'd have never noticed if not for the leaves
painting images upon it with Sol's life

I wouldn't have noticed if it had been night
though with darkened woods I must wonder;
what the music within the trees might sound like
If my eyes were offered only the moon's sight

and ears that intend to listen to her melody
would she sing in their persistent rustling
had I been there just to hear her fluttering;
my attention upon the inflection in her voice?

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I've seen you in places that scarce exist
wrapped in a cloth made of silver photons
your sanguine kiss is put upon my skin

pulling the cord at the base of my spine
I am rooted in a vacant pallor
gazing up to be lost in clouded eyes

pluck my stardust from diseased sediment
and leave my corporeal form behind
to petrify below the resonance

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Could you love me then?

I've been smoking twilight for so long
I can't say I know the difference between
the day and the night

I've been looking for you in the shade
long before I knew your face
I'd like to tell you a secret

but that can wait

I've been dreaming in swaying curtains
on a dusty window in an aged sill
you can anchor me

I'm going in as deep as I can
so tell me - will you love me
if I drown?

at the bottom?
So far down that I could swear
the sun doesn't exist;

 

Could y​ou love me then?​​​​

I'm below the water;
could you love me then?

I don't need it to be true
just hold me in the moment
so I have the excuse

to spill myself open
in an ocean for you

I'm sorry if I'm blurring the line
sometimes my words betray
and I say too much

I'd love to love you
but I love too sharp
I'd not see you

cut yourself on me;
chances are you've
enough scars

If I could give you
all the smooth & soft...

I'm drifting again -
and I'm not sure I care

I've weathered storms
with waves that I could swear
touch the sky

So tell me - am I too damaged?

I realize I'm not worth your repair -
am I too damaged as a clutter
of debris on the surface?

my core's below
if you want it you can have it

and every other fractured piece

I long to be gazed into
for my faults to be
the cracks you fall through
 

could you love me then?

If I lay it all bare;
could you love me then?

I can't ask you
to join me in my dreaming;
I'm scared and restless
speaking in cliche

I'd live for you
yet I don't know your name

or if you're just some image
in my thoughts that isn't real
though I'm almost certain
I've heard your voice in raindrops
tapping on my glass
just before I fall asleep

I want to taste the flavor
that rests on your lips
I want to hold you
against my chest
to feel your breath
on my neck

I think if I had you
I'd probably mess it up

but you're not to be had -
or mistreated by my insecurity

I'd hate to be the reason
hiding in one of your frowns

I do what I think I can to improve
so that I might be worthy of you;
to be free of my jealousy and
give you gemstones of trust
for it to be better than
simply good enough
even that's a selfish pursuit

Sorry; I'm drunk and fading
I know, I know it's a crutch

could you love me then?

could you love me
knowing that I love you?

------------------------------------------------------------------

I've never forged a masterpiece
I'd heard murmurings of mastery

the word doesn't fit me well at all
nor do I desire to wear its color
despite how quaint and kind it is

I'm a caster of broken fragments
images that are dripping saturation
bleeding from pin-pricks on canvas

I learned to form cadences only to
ignore the lessons I'd been given

I find it's best left incomplete
so I can hold what it could mean
for just a little while longer

its fragility placed on my tongue
before they delicately find their way
and move pass my novicius lips.

I don't aim to be a master of the pen
my sight is only to be better than myself


a journey without an end

------------------------------------------------------------------

beings levitating in a tower of pale orange flame
embraced together in loose fit lightning cloaks
above a landscape swollen in dry emptiness
made in crooked paths of cracked slabs and bone

clay golems feed the ground their mud lament
praying the rain might choose to join in too;
created in the sound of a tender wizard's word
"If we can try, we must try - what else is there to do?"

terracotta feet trying to feel for a pulse, humming upward
hoping for some faint vibration to tremble within the dirt
and cloudbearers to hear sentinel thrumming once more
awakening to herald a new era born of flowers in bloom

------------------------------------------------------------------

abstraction is myth
if you look in deep enough
everything makes sense

you can find meaning
in that which seems meaningless
if you merely try

use a soft eye and
it will open up to you
a path to follow

made of reverie
bending about in vapor
that you can breathe in

it is hard to see
but know that it can be seen
try to look closely

------------------------------------------------------------------

That Which Lies Beyond.

There are a few words that hide within chests
blurring their presense in splintering wood
from some pair of hands that would caress and
undress the meaning behind their trepidation

sands lifted by an azure breeze fall through
slivers blessed with the light they bring forward
to be later sifted by an eye widening in time
when the one gifted the key finds the iron lock

their wispy silhouette sleeps in turquoise voids
until silent dreams align inside pearlescent ripples
exhaling mistborne tints that rise and twist in atmos
whispered incantations twinkle into a darkening sky

soft-spoken horizons bathed in periwinkle periphery
quivering incandescence to illumine that lavender zeal
a heavenly descent, releasing that key with their breath
an oaken assent meets the palm that would know its dust

and that which lies beyond.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Presence

if you find yourself growing weak on your path
climb onto my shoulders and I'll carry you
long after my calves begin to burn and ache

if you find those walls start to close in on you
I'll grind myself to dust to keep them open
so you can feel slightly less claustrophobic

if you find it ever difficult to breathe;
should your vision become too dim and hazy
you may have what air remains within my lungs

if you find you are quickly sinking like stone
I'll not abandon you to those dark frigid depths
even if I can't swim, I'll dive after you

If you find your memories form a bastille
that choke your will and fill you with disquiet
there will be an ear so you can clear your head

If you find the want or need for a constant
in an unkind world that spirals and distorts
I'll be there constantly; you are not alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Absence

I saw your name fade from pages
within a slate grey covered book

seems the ink that formed the letters
deigned to cease being on paper
that newfound empty space divides
from the root where you had once been

I can feel heat from the place it rested
inside phrases that could not hold it up

numerous dreams explored in black pigment
partially smeared by the edge of my hand
as if squalls of the pen were wiped away
leaving only fractured declarations.

------------------------------------------------------------------

In a room full of blurring faces
distorted eyes and crooked grins
cracks in the ceiling that feel like home
a divide made of wooden miscare

------------------------------------------------------------------

Blackened pillar sleeping in an inky basin
wrapped from the ground by tendril-likened vines
carved in the stone skin, ill-rememberings
tracing them with my fingertip in careful lines

lucid oviform crystals sit upon ebon stakes
placed around the column by meticulous hands
with soft etchings vaguely resembling a face
mineral eyes staring coldly as if by demand

------------------------------------------------------------------

She was like bossa nova in a warm night
pulling me into some thick rhythmic stirring
jazz and samba; an expectant melody

moving with the moon; speaking in bolero tides
slowly leading me into some new soundscape
- an album I'd repeat without growing tired ears

and she was heavy metal; direct and sublime
aggressive and profound; a shimmering inferno
taking my attention with her conflagrant ardor

Each song is a masterpiece on its own
where any flaw fails to mar the timbre;
only adding to the goddess' epic cantata

------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestial Bodies

It's an idea of wavelength, or frequency
of molecules floating around in excitation
heat shared in cold space, passing vibrations
ionic waltz to carry the charge from you to me

Let me be lost with you in an astral sea
I'll try to make for the most electric company
until I lose awareness of wherever we may be
and I don't care to stop and get my bearings

we can dance between the constellations
from Cassiopeia to Orion or even Scorpius
through nebulas where new stars are born
dust held for when another galaxy takes form

------------------------------------------------------------------

shallow river flowing from an ocular schism
cradled gently by clasped hands made of limestone
speaking watered words to cleanse a pair of soil ears

refracting light through its massive earthen veins
casting undulative reflections over milky quartz
blood of the cosmos' ancient sleeping giants

------------------------------------------------------------------

Monolith

I'm not one to try to be better than someone in any given thing
even being me is a byproduct of who I've known and where I am
or where I've been - I've learned it's nothing special in the least

from what I've seen, many people are standing on titanic shoulders
with their titanic dreams trying to reach for distant heavenly bodies
though, I don't believe holding fire in my hands is good for the skin

whatever talent I might possess is of the earth - to be returned
so an idea to be better than another is to be worse than myself
as I wish to weaken the chain linking me to my fragile ego

hoping to look up from a giant's clavicle and play to another's ascent
this life of mine might be without some grand, augurous significance
it's a gift nonetheless; one I aim to travel through with humility as my

Monolith.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Will the Morning Come? III

Eventually, I found my way down a seemingly vacant alley
the dark brown bricks that formed its ground were unkept
but unusually clean, considering the filth I've seen up to now

my presumptions of abandonment didn't hold for any real amount
as I turned to a nook in the alleyway, a man walked into my sight
he was wearing a duster of beige canvas and a wide-brimmed hat

I asked him if he knew anything of the current hysteria about town
to my surprise, he was the first person I asked to do more than stare

"I can tell you they've all been like this since early in the morning
coming out of their homes half-dressed, and even without shoes
doesn't make sense - and they have these books with blank pages"

"Do you know of the corpses on the shore?"

his eyes became confused, or perhaps frightened

"You had that dream, too?"

"No, I saw them just a few hours ago
being pulled with black sand from another land
I've never seen their like before"

"Did they have eyes... you know, on the inside?"

"They did."

I watched the man shudder, his skin growing pale
as if I handed him a letter of solemn bereavement
he looked to me and asked me in a panicked tone

"And what of the agate obelisk?"

Though I had never seen such an object
there it was, right in the eye of my brain
massive - covered in unknown petroglyphs

wrapped in tarry vines or maybe roots
and surrounded by a spasmic landscape
of rounded mountains that seem to move

As well as an irregular splish-splash of water
from a distant source that I can't envision
try as I may, it remains an enigma to me

"I don't know anything about an obelisk
Listen now, I'm not sure what's happening here
but I plan to look for others spared from this disease"

seeming to be relieved by my apparent ignorance
perhaps because he could believe it's not real
rationalizing that it was little more than a vivid dream

"Can I join you?"

While I wasn't sure what good his company would do
it seemed wrong to simply leave him behind in his cranny
So i motioned for him to join me as I walked back onto the street

(The obelisk, the dripping - should I search for comprehension?)

------------------------------------------------------------------

Will the Morning Come? II


It was a place of dark grey mist
half-remembered, and infinite
where pebbles float in weightlessness
and strange things creep from stranger crypts

a sunset delusion came midday
no one can quite recall their names
trudging about without a face
as I could see, they all walked the same

carrying old tomes gripped close to their chests
(I hear the water drip inside my head)
I tried to tell them what I saw on shore
it seemed they lacked ears to hear anymore

madness spread from abhorrent parables
barefoot steps taken over grounds most terrible
with its shattered glass, and cracked cobblestone
the cuts about their feet? left their boots at home

there are people that are still, gauntly and noiseless
facing some effigy made of twigs and twine
though, I could swear it hadn't been there at morning
I detested the sight of it, the whole damnable scene

seeking an answer in a crowd of the voiceless
met by blank expressions each question, every time
is this some sort of plague, descending without warning?
of the symbols on their ragged books, what do they mean?

surely someone still has their wit intact
but these streets seem to go on with no end
(with eyes on the inside, it must be a curse)
my search won't be easy; somebody must know.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Dream Walker

Pull me into the fringe
push toxic air into my avaricious lungs
so I may pass the gates unperturbed

I'll see the amber isle with its
flat foil forests and crystalline fungi
where the horizon shimmers and

the unnatural silence welcomes
a deep, wistful sleep on beds of violet
with arms cast in the form of tranquility

stepping over silver braziers, still raging
paths between made of fire without heat
until the tinny wood breaks to a new sight

As the day turned to dusk
massive cliffs appeared as if one
opened an oversized pop-up book

Green particles dance in the windless night
over blue-tinted grass and rusted soil
Illuminated by an ever indifferent moon

here, in some sort of folded paper valley
glowing dust, moon blessed, is my guide
dancing with them, I find myself anew

before I know it, pliable ground gives way
to reflective stone and firmer footing
an ochre tinted twilit sky smiling above

before long, I will awake with absent memory
burning sun, diffused by idyllic gilded clouds
vast and meretricious, shifting in a warm breeze

I approach the far apical edge of the reverie
feeling cool rock beneath my calloused heels
just before I walk off - pondering the dream

------------------------------------------------------------------

Images and words strewn about haplessly
photographs stained and fading
save it to memory, distorted as it may be
so in a later breath I can pretend

I possess a certain degree of acceptance
like a damned fool who thought he could swim
without the limbs to keep himself afloat
with pockets to the calves filled with stone

I have no idea what I'm doing
in a graveyard - acting like I could
necromance the connections shared
by two people that scarcely still exist

Is there something I should be doing?
If there is - I've no idea what it may be
throwing darts into an absence of light
awaiting the sound of a soft thudding

or a flame to flare up and show me
how to escape the attachment to when
I had more to look forward to and
smile about; when I was someone else.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Will the Morning Come?


Black tides push on black sand
carrying bodies to shore
their broken, emaciated forms

could hear water dripping
presuming a mass delirium
banging their heads on walls

drip by painful drip until
their skulls cracked open
hoping to gain wakefulness

I could see eyes inside
each of those bone fragments
what they searched, I can't tell

their insight was a curse, surely
as they knew that our world is a farce
and this is all a deep, murky dream

------------------------------------------------------------------

Cells, Tissue, and Organs

You can sit in my lungs and watch my heart quiver
Observe as the wind expands the labyrinth around you
My ribs offer shelter should you ever feel the need;
I'll not inhale any smoke while you're resting there

If you require warmth, lounge against the inner lining
you can use the blood flowing through to stave the cold
don't concern yourself with those passing moments in repose
the cruelties of our time don't have the arms to reach in here

Should you find it dark - swim through sanguine channels
just until you find your way into my sky illuminated irides
stretch along my pupils, if you happen to have the desire
as there's no one else I'd rather have steal away my sight

At the core, I assure you these words are truth
You can have it all, should you merely ask
I can serve no better purpose with my collection
of cells, tissue and organs; you can have it all.

------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm trying to not see you
in all the places you're not
as I've looked in the emptiness
and managed to see your face
on the inside of my eyelids

Maybe if I could dream better
I'd stop waking up in cold sweats
swearing there was something more
in those ethereal reflections;
I don't really know if there is

Wake me, as I am terribly lost
in these blurring faded colours
the night binds me here
and goes for far too long
forcing pieces where they don't fit

You & I
You & I
it isn't real
You, and I.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Parting

When you said you'd follow me where light doesn't reach
My chest began to ache because I wasn't worth the hassle
those cold, damp and dusty places aren't meant for you
Where lingering stagnance ruins the air with moldy taste

I'd love to stay in your beautiful world of glowing hues
where the rain is warm, and the painted skies are bright
those magical and amazing mornings aren't meant for me
Where my only worry is brewing the right type of coffee

I'm sorry; I can't stay here, and you shouldn't chase after
As the depth is far too much to climb your way out of
Trust me when I say you'll be happier in the sun's gleam
and I'll always think of you here - where light doesn't reach

------------------------------------------------------------------

Violet Dusk I

"Steel yourselves, the enemy will soon be upon us!"

Captain Brumma roared to his companions
his platemail, with faded hues of once magnificient gold
shimmering softly from the fires of the encampment
distracted from his worried visage from a fate foretold

"The Heralds of a new era will come for you
their forms, distorted, will gather themselves
and their gaze, like that of a sphere of many eyes
cannot be sheltered from, despite any attempt to do so
be wary of the night that follows violet dusk"

"Smother the flame, give no beacon to the gaunt shades"

heavy thuds over softened soil form imprints upon the ground
embers, coolly burning, vibrate radiance before becoming ash
silence spread like scurrilous rumours from long-winded lips
sustaining for the few, last peaceful moments tonight would tolerate

a cacophonic collective of sharp shrieking and trampling of the earth
faint, at first, it became clear there would soon be a crescendo
an eye pries itself open above the laconic, fatiguing celestial canopy
spiraling hues of cerulean and mauve spread from its dilating pupil

"It would seem the time for mercy has passed"

------------------------------------------------------------------

'Born in the Trenches'

I keep my feet firmly planted
Strict neutral, don't try to mix me up
Overhead or empty low
Don't waste my time
I'll block 'em both

Come at me like you're in the zone
Trying to play the flow chart game?
I'm in the know
Miss me with the gimmicks
Before you get Piccolo'd

Shimmy weave to bait the wake-up shoryuken
Get caught more minus than ya should have been
Acting like you'd catch one in this first to ten
You're M. Bison in SSF2 turbo, right at the end

Hit them panic buttons, I'm collected
When it whiffs, you know I'm collectin'
Sidestep, blazing kick in your direction
You know the frames, or should I mention?

What's your relationship with practice mode?
How many electrics can you do in a row?
I'm built with progression in my foundation
Gotta hit the lab, it'll be your salvation

Back dash cancel, I'm building distance
I hold the yoga flame just like a mystic
Raise the tension, you feelin' pessimistic?
You never stood a chance, let's be realistic

Hit 'em with that dust loop
True blue, one two one two
Yeah, I'm three moves ahead
So whatcha gonna do?

Wait, I know...

Hit them panic buttons, I'm collected
When it whiffs, you know I'm collectin'
Sidestep, blazing kick in your direction
You know the frames, or should I mention?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Adrift, I find myself saturated by languid dreams
the motifs pass me by, I could count notes singularly
reaching out for gently vibrating pulses so I may
cease being a simple melody in an ocean of song

gathering your attention for a few infectious moments
until you've heard enough that it sickens you
no, I'd rather be the silence that precedes the sound
I'm not composed enough to be an often revisited harmony

as most days I lived in obstinate ostinato marked by balking decay
eventually, I'm not sure when, I inevitably fell out of time
metronomes betrayed the instant they stopped their clicking
and I pretended it was syncopation when I lost my place

diminishing to some nondyadic form, spare me the resolution
suspend me over textures not deigned to fit me in
so someone may cut these strings and permiss some rest
don't repair me, just let the last emote ring out before I'm forgotten

------------------------------------------------------------------

The Keys.


Even though you're gone you're ever still here
sitting on my mind; rent-free, i should add
and it's the best part of that cobwebbed room
where my thoughts are held; You shine the brightest

I just can't bring myself to evict at present
despite all that it costs, I'll carry the burden
just until it becomes obvious I've no choice
other than to let go; to watch it grow dimmer

I wonder if you're happy without me; I trust you are
I hope you don't miss me much; you'll go further on your own
or with one better suited to the goals you've set in life
wherever you are right now, I hope you are still shining

As you always lessened the darkness in any given place
and gave radiance to grounds otherwise undeserving
I hear your voice in dreams staving off demons as it fades
you were remarkable in your ebbing, and I was just

so fortunate that you offered great solace to me;
to carry through the occlusion in my time of need.

That's why you still hold the keys.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Cashed Out

Have you ever pondered the purpose
Of why we chase a sense of fulfillment
to the degradation of our connections
And we tell ourselves sweet little lies
because that's what we were taught to do


But if you take the time to pull back the layer
It's clear we chase that which is made of paper
And the visage presented is a facade
To romanticize acquiring gold-backed fiber

It's a necessity, because we allow it to be
The amazing things one could buy and tout
Or burn in the hours to afford our human rights
These systems don't give a damn about us

Spread those schisms for productivity's sake
pray you accept that overtime
Forty plus hours a week is all it takes
So you can make a little more to have a little less

Take the gamblin' man's bet
pretend in the end that it was worth it
tell everyone how good it feels
or how much joy that it saps from you -
It tends to be one of the two
And it's just so sad because
that's what we were taught to do.

------------------------------------------------------------------

π

nothing feels
quite
as empty as
this
room without you here
I wish I could use better words to
describe
this hollow sensation;
our distance is vast
yet I am
trying to reach out

the lone hours are tiring
and I haven't slept well in some time
as this bridge won't build itself
even if there's no one to use it;
it will bring
comfort
to me in
knowing that I never gave up
on our shared dream
for what it could be worth

I hold
the image in my head
of some future
where you cross
the divide
or I do - doesn't matter who
I don't mind
a bit
of a journey toward you
if you ever say you want me to

Maybe I'm alone
-
in this
desire for us to be close
like we once were, I can't be sure
there's so much more
I'd
like to tell you in the interim;
I've kept my palms up since you've
Left

by HallowReveries
posted on 11/23/2021

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Tags: other
Comments: 1

Comment by Maks: Nov 26, 2021 2:35 pm
I like these. I like some of them a lot.

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