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 Aug 2018
S
The lights look so warm in the distance...
I’m trying to grab them but can’t you see they don’t want to be held?
 Jun 2018
Eryck
The alarm clock rings
and once again
the rooster sings
the morning new.
Slumbering flowers
lift their petals to drink
the drops of dew.
  Reliable Sun
vanquishes the darkness
as he lightens the sky.
  I see an honored guest
is in the garden,
his tiny nametag reads... butterfly.

       But on the other side of town
       someone struggles with
       addiction.

 Habits grab hard,
break will powers  in two.
The will becomes won't
and the power is all through.
Satiated,
temporaneously satisfied.
only till the next time the habit has to be gratified.
The victim moves on trying to reassemble his day
Avoid
a crooked roaded relapse,
along the way.

Oh ghost of the host why must repitition repeat the most
and feel so good in its continuation?
Why must familiarity breed the need
for more familiar feelings?
To the point of killing control, sealing a fate,
dealing defeat,
stifle healing.

     If your out there guardian soul, spirit helper, what's your roll, your goal? 
 Guiding with helping hand or let stand the habitualized
habit man.

Isn't there  a self preservation station within?
A gland or impulse control button to switch from sin to win?

Even Edgar Allan Poe stubbed his toe on a ten step program trying to get in the door.
Ill-begotten and craven, drunken and unshaven cried the raven...never more.

Guiding spirit it ends here!         

No more slave to the crave
or impulse picking from the addiction tree.
The need to repeat and repeat
the pattern becomes a self fulfilling prophesy.

Back to normalacy, complacency,
it's a moderation that one seeks.
To enjoy the ****** of bells, hallalulah wails,
a babies dimpled cheeks.

Can you do that Spirit helper, please.
Let sing the bodies vibration.
 No more internal damnation.
No more self flagellation.
Allow to draw power from these words.
Think of this all as an intervention!
A tribute to Edgar Allan Poe who wrote the greatest of poems,"The Raven" and died young of alcoholism. Listen to Christopher Walken recite "The Raven" on you tube.
 Apr 2018
LeV3e
Tick tock tick
Clock strikes addict
Time's come for ******
Hands stretched thin
Reaching black heavens
Minds finally free again...
Tick tock tick
Until clock strikes addict
 Mar 2018
Nicole
Our relationship is defined
By sleepy closing eyes
Suddenly fluttering awake
Because we realized something else to critique
We move through this life
Stuck in the definitions of the systems
But we know better
We know to question everything
From endless rants about capitalism
To minorly correcting the others word choice
Anarchy fuels our veins
As our hearts beat in sync
To our own vibrations
sweet nyx, my goddess of the night.
you are the deity and reminder
that even within abysmal darkness
we are capable of excelling infinite heights.

I will be your muse:
weaving epic tales of love and loss,
depictions of existence
and resplendent, radiant light
as I guide you through this ineffable
journey of tiresome, exuberant life.
June 10th, 2016

a tribute to my goddess of the night.
I am not afraid to show you the beauty of your light.

I love you, nyx stella.

(look guys, it somewhat rhymes! but fear not, I doubt I will ever do it again.)
 Jan 2018
blue mercury
tell me
what you want
because i want you

you look the same way
the sunset paints brush strokes
on the horizon

i want to be your horizon.

sometimes we love without a reason why, without knowing anything except for this. the way we clumsily work toward interlacing our fingers reminds me that life isn't perfect until we're content withthe fact that it's not perfect.
you make me see all that life can be. with you here, i am more than content. i am happy.

you changed my life.
like an autumn evening
changes green to red.
to yellow.

your smile is my
favourite constellation.
and i play connect the dots between
the corners of your mouth.

you make me love.
myself.
life.
the world.
you.

*always.
i love love love you
 Dec 2017
Hadrian Veska
I watch them pass
Perhaps far away
Perhaps close by
I can no longer tell

Their movements are strange
Loose and half ethereal
As thought they walk the earth
On legs not trained by it

The sky I once knew
Is not where it used to be
And neither is my heart
In this strange world

The heavens drip
And the stars look fragile
Laying at the bottom
Of an ever blackening sea
 Nov 2017
Haydn Swan
In the twilight hour, we turn to our dreams.
seeking that which cannot be sought,
secrets behind the moons smile,
stars that whisper of our demise,
floating streams that carry our promises,
warmth on sun drenched sands,
the coldness of a lovers kiss,
cloaks of the dead wrapped around our soul,
in the quiet slumber of sleep,
all means nothing yet illuminates our way,
centurions of the hidden gates,
morning brings us forth to the light.
 Oct 2017
Joseph S Pete
Holy hell,
this show is insane,
riveting, complexed, nuanced,
compelling, captivating, addictive,
he proclaimed
on Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook,
wondering where the days went,
wondering what unforeseen abyss swallowed him whole.
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