faeri-shankar
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Untitled
Lately you’ve saturated my Consciousness / Watering me down as the / Hard ground weeps
19
Aug 27, 2015
Captivated (He said to me)
You are the most beautiful / Person that has ever existed / Real or otherwise.
3
Feb 23, 2015
Genesis
Where to begin? / From the top, I suppose / Of the proverbial mountain
61
Feb 22, 2015
Damask
In under three days / You'll peel my skin away / My flesh seeps menthol and freezes in your pores.
14
Nov 4, 2014
35mm
You're feeling jubilant as your eye captures the perfect illumination of a scene you've seen a hundred times, yet never perceived in this manner before. You ****** your old '85 from the snare of the paper-ridden desktop and keenly snap the staggered allure--until the low, guttural groan of the sprocket slices through your absorption. You abruptly lower the body to bury your misdemeanor within the unanimous truth of the data panel--but alas! Your aspirations are dissolved by the sudden rush of blood berating, "what a pillock!" As your cheeks fill with the crimson truth revealed in the seven-segment display partially reflecting your open jaw dappled like sympathy flowers atop the silent chastising of the slow-blinking "24".
1
Jan 22, 2014
Urdhva Hastasana
Urdhva Hastasana / Salida del sol. / Her paws are bare
33
Jul 26, 2013
Birth date.
A broken lock equals an open mind. An open mind equals a temporary peace of heart. I constantly write in riddles and lines that will never rhyme, that most will probably never read. In my subconscious I relentlessly attempt a Resurrection of civil engagements with an uncivil mind. My internal demeanor never abandons a detail, a key worth remembering and a lock that will always sway to and fro in a shanty boat that is inconsistently worthless and valuable. It will never dock, it will never be entirely worth the stress or the time it would take to tie and secure a ship of that size and quality, or lack thereof. There exists ulterior motives that Miss blonde esteem is seemingly not even aware of, or like her prior, accepts ignorance as a temporary escape until the uncivil mind returns civil. The fact is this. The uncivil mind was never civil, and may as well never be. Locks can be repaired, even when the thief begs for no replacement. What makes the thief the uncivil enemy? Has it ever occurred to any soul, that a thief is only stealing away precious moments that are rightfully his, that circumstances and uncivilized minds have locked away in a pitch black that they cannot call their own night? There surely has been an uncanny instance when the locksmith swiftly turned about to find his prior gazing at him in the golden grooves of the trap. The thieving of one’s own mind, to break a lock enchanted by the uncivil mind, should be easily empathized and understood. But alas, curly blonde esteem will forever submit under the spell of the uncivil mind, who will only cast a shadow upon itself and its priors. It will be remembered in the scent of cigarettes, where it will also be displaced. It will be avoided in the unrighteousness of a friend’s bed in another family’s house, where a respirator and the oxygen tubes intertwining the threshold no longer exist; neither do the white sheets. There will never again be an absence of music behind the actions committed between the uncivil mind and the civil heart.
1
Jun 13, 2013
Untitled
Simplicity will make its rounds / As it always does when I'm missing you. / I can tell you're missing me in the way you glance
33
Jun 3, 2013
Skid Row
You all remember the romantic fickleness of being fifteen, right? / Of course you do. / Everything was
15
May 6, 2013
11:21
Have you ever / Wondered / how you would react
17
Jan 4, 2013
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