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James Sep 24
Ive been gone.
A long awaited freedom.
Gone for so long.
Ive been gone.
For too long,
Ive been gone.

In my memories,
A past lingers in a haze.
The spaces so divided,
A connection seemingly quixotic.

Its cloudy.
Its dark.
A moment in space.

It feels like an eternity.
Floating in a universe with possible impossibilities.
Yet I remain aimlessly afloat,
enshrouded in nothing.

No drift
No serendipity
No clemency
To pull me from this cold idle.

And when I see a comet hurdling by,
I can only wish to share its great journey.
James Jun 6
When the heart gets heavy,
They say to look back.
Look back
To the times that have gone.
But, where did they go?
Where did you go?
Where did I go?

When the heart gets heavy,
They say to look back.
Back to the times
Where you and I,
Where we,
Where once,
We were.

When the heart gets heavy,
They say to look back.
Back to where you belonged,
Back to a place,
A place called home.

A place where you knew you were loved.
A place where you knew you were warm.
A place where you knew you had a family.
A place which you called home.

Home,
I'll never forget it,
But perhaps,
I've been gone for so long,
It forgot about me.

So When the heart gets heavy,
And they say to look back,
Back into the past,
Where do I look?
James May 7
An affinity sequestered away in a languid beat of my heart.
To whom I've fallen for so gravely ill, this churning affection grows a part within me.

The fire toils for a great satisfaction,
one of which I cannot fufill.
The strung voices that I provoke to keep you in the know are nothing but a timid reliance to keep me in the dark; a fault I've succumbed to, and a death I'll forever hold in disconcertion.

Perhaps it is best I keep the key for my own, but this pent affliction will be a pernicious ailment, gutting me within as the present becomes the past—day by day.

Oh, how I walk among the shadows,
lurking in a void, consumed by the daunting portents of failure.
Oh, how the hauntings of what could have been lingers.

But, alas, my silence has spoken, and now I must walk the shade of night and bear the quietude of my lonely plight.
James May 4
A life of serpentine-driven fate,
a flow of undulating winds,
is a life left in desuetude,
ululating for a course more driven.
James Mar 22
Sing the song of gratitude,
should the grass grow.
Felt beneath our feet,
the soil breathing its song.
Let it growl a languid tone,
for its tongue rests underneath its greenth overflows and wild creatures.
A picture of placidity it draws
but hidden under its overtone of yellow kingdom.
Don't let it loom over you,
for its stature is everything but onerous.
Tell it why you fear not the soil nor its engulfing sky, and it shall move the winds easy.
Speak with candor and imbue it with your love.
Because when it hears your song of gratitude, it too will sing.
James Oct 2019
Like time, are we found through serendipity.
Minutes, a mere tick to unfounded revelation.
Past, are the days when we go subtly by, dissipating into the night sky.

Like time, our corporeal spirits aloft into the pitchy sky.
The tender kiss, a gentle stroke, nuanced by the caressing love of the lunar above.

Like time, are we imprisoned in our own conscious. A mere abstract picture, blown into the winds, caught adrift, and veered into the dark streams of reality's heavy rift.

Like time, we are but ethereal wayfarers: youthful beings marked by ephemeral nature, merely to trance the universe's wake.

And like time, our departure ticks till the last grain meets, and the sand flipped, to start all over again, and again, and again.
James Apr 2019
Deeply in earnest, a frantic discernment.
A gaze into the dark we peel eagerly.
Turbulent fear of it chill, shiver, and craze our bones.
For what lies in the pitchy shadow is man's greatest horror—the unknown.
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