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We cannot grasp infinity in our minds

Yet we hold in our heads that we are
infinite

We forget we are *not
I am a happy
And well-adjusted child
Learning to be sad.
I
still hear
voices
but now
we all get along.
A poet in love
Is a match soaked
In gasoline.

-r0
follow my writing!

it will kick you in the diaphragm.
Winter drops of icy dew,

sprinkle down on moments that to me are new,

The hold on my hand tightens, you're afraid of slipping too,

on Winter drops of icy dew,

lips quite pink, eyes seemingly blue,

I'll take the warmth you place in my heart and melt away the things upsetting you.

We'll take a stroll, to a meadow of white.

Eyes seemingly blue take in a magical sight,

drops of ice twinkle in the light, not from the sun, but from your smile.

It's these moments that give me winter
blushes,

Just one thought of your presence, and my blood rushes.

I'll grab your hand, to the center we shall go

To build a family made entirely of snow,

If you'd like we'd make a family of our own,

Where smiles are made of skin rather than tiny river stones.
Something soft.
Photoshopped fantasy fictions
Misogynistic oppressive depictions
Unobtainable beauty
Fake imagery
This LIE is but violence and bigotry
I took LSD about five times. That isn't often, but for me it was sufficient. I never had a bad trip. I enjoyed myself immensely. I still remember these experiences vividly. Psychedelics are not like other drugs. They seem to be about something besides pleasure and pain. They don't soothe your agony. They don't help you relax. They neither excite a craving, nor relieve one. LSD intensifies things. But it doesn't really make anything happen. It just brings into the open whatever is going on already. It makes you perceive things you'd otherwise ignore. It's an all-purpose catalyst for the brain. I never had any hallucinations while tripping. Everything I saw was perfectly real. It's just that my senses were enhanced. As I recall, light was streaming everywhere. Colors were more vivid than I had ever seen. Intricate, swirling patterns danced across the sky. Figure turned into ground, and ground into figure. Everything was alive, with a life and will of its own. Objects throbbed and glowed, and writhed in my hands. This was beautiful. It was also disconcerting. I didn't have control. Even the simplest tasks seemed beyond my ability. How could I possibly lock the door, for instance, or play a record on the stereo? But the key slipped into the lock of its own accord. And music boomed from the speakers, all by itself. Things just happened like that. There was no need for action on my part. The world was generous beyond measure. It offered me more than I could ever hope to absorb. The more choices it gave me, the less I was able to choose. When I tried to read a book, even the words on the page came alive. They wavered and jumped around and flashed rainbow colors. Somehow this made them seem richer and more passionate. As for other people, they became transparent. Their flushed faces gleamed above elongated bodies. They looked like cartoon images of themselves. In such a state, they could hold no secrets from me. I knew them better than they knew themselves. The most hilarious part was that they didn't notice my condition. I talked to them calmly, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Meanwhile the world washed over me in waves. A violent energy surged through my body. Its force left me breathless. My nerves tingled from the shock. Spasm after spasm swept through me in a rush. This was the outside, battering its way in. The objects all around me were coming closer and closer. I could no longer keep the world at a proper distance. It pushed right up against me. It grazed my skin. It pressed into my eyes. It filled my mouth, and churned in my stomach and bowels. I felt its alien presence coursing through my veins. I was more than vulnerable. I was exposed. All barriers, all defenses, had fallen. Even the lightest touch was enough to set me a quiver. The feeling was so intense, I could hardly stand it. Life gushed forth in all its splendor. I no longer knew where my being ended, and the world began. My body lay dispersed and scattered everywhere. It had become a vessel for forces I could not name. These forces converged upon me from the farthest reaches of the universe. This was the peak, the high point of the trip. Things were going so fast, I couldn't keep up. I couldn't even keep track of my own state of mind. By the time I noticed anything, it was gone. It had already changed into something else. I was out of sync with the world, and with myself. I tried hard to make sense of this situation. I struggled to focus my attention. I carefully pondered each of my actions. I repeated to myself the story of what was happening. But still I wasn't able to catch up. There remained a lag between events and my awareness of them. This was a riddle I could not solve. My efforts to close the gap only made it larger. Thoughts of all kinds were swarming through my brain. I grasped at them as they whizzed by. I examined them from every possible angle. I worked them over meticulously. I elaborated them into complicated structures. Soon I was thinking thoughts about thoughts; then thoughts about thoughts about thoughts. My mind was caught in an infinite regress. I needed more and more words, to say what could never be said. This prospect thrilled me. It convinced me that I was on to something profound. The secret of all existence seemed to be hovering just before me. If only I could pin it down for a moment... Of course, this impression didn't last. Time and again, it broke up in gales of laughter. The secret was that there was no secret. None of this really mattered. In any case, the trip did not go on forever. Some things are just too beautiful to last. Toward evening, the world gradually settled down. It was with regret, as well as relief, that I returned to ordinary life. Today, LSD continues to haunt me. It lingers in memory, long after having left my body. I don't think it means much of anything. But there's a certain feeling it gave me, that never goes away.
ladies and gentlemen this little girl
with the good teeth and small important *******
(is it the Frolic or the Century whirl?
ones memory indignantly protests)
this little dancer with the tightened eyes
crisp ogling shoulders and the ripe quite too
large lips always clenched faintly,wishes you
with all her fragile might to not surmise
she dreamed one afternoon
                            ….or maybe read?

of time a when the beautiful most of her
(this here and This, do you get me?)
will maybe dance and maybe sing and be
absitively posolutely dead,
like Coney Island in winter
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