my vase of flowers,
the only life in my dull existence,
a matching coloured butterfly darts past,
it takes no notice,
O!
my dull existence,
I retain my dying flowers,
I retain my ended life,
how?
the colours keep my conscience,
O!
my dull existence.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 9:06 AM UTC
a can of coke sits silently on my floor,
you stand there,
slightly disturbed,
you don't know that,
but it's presence created a fault line in the room,
your feelings towards the dizziness of our minds are quiet and content,
but they show,
they show like the metronome over a song,
the room is a dull purple,
but I think it changes grey when you come over,
I like you too much, and it shows.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:38 PM UTC
you dip, you turn, you smudge,
but yet you seem still and desolate, vibrant colours from your reflection, smothered by the disease of life,
it injects itself into everyone but,
people know not of its presence;
you seem to be the only one.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:38 PM UTC
I do not have structure, but yet i have all the structures
I am a sheep, I follow all of my friends, although it is not my choice
I wander forever and still no satisfaction
until I am released
now I am flowing
I am life
I fulfill for other thriving things
but the cycle repeats
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
fulfilled but lifeless
neglected, and discontinued
they move closer to the ruptured but flawless,
gratified but exanimate
cherished and continued
life within the forest, the life surrounded by a stronghold of bark
a slight crunch of the wooden skinned debris,
fulfilled but deceased
abandoned and transforming into something very similar to
their pacing which was not to be heard by any intellectual life nearby,
as the skeletons walked around the tree.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:36 PM UTC
the bamboo grows rapidly,
the black and white bears feast,
the plates of your planet collide,
the peaks start to emerge,
the two-legged creatures dominate,
the thriving beings destruct the basis of life.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:35 PM UTC
the ecosystem is distilled,
the ground feels good sometimes,
they wonder what's beneath,
why go up when you can go down,
you are patterned like the scales of a cobra,
what more can you want,
the ecosystem is fulfilled.
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:33 PM UTC
