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3.0k · Oct 2016
Bare Ham og Hans Hjerte
acacia Oct 2016
En annen natt uten en måne,
men er greit og men er okay.

Søvn vil finne meg i natt,
så jeg vil ikke la dette gjør meg trist.

Jeg trenger deg ikke her,
bare ham og hans hjerte.
Han vil sette pris på det som ingen andre... (this is in Norwegian)
acacia Jan 2017
Holding, stroking,
caressing and pressing the curls behind my ear,
soft swoons, gentle whispers and sweet nothings.
It’s all just friendly things, isn’t it?
But I need more than a friend and that’s all you’ve ever been.
And I try and I try and I try and I try.
1.8k · May 2018
acacia May 2018
i still feel like my purpose is higher
than what i’m living now.

i’m supposed to be swinging in the breeze,
reflecting time,
changing perspectives as a bird,
living in anemones.

how is that i have turned into a secondary color?

i’m more of a roadblock to human life,
my cycle is to serve, support, and help move on. be a learning experience, to help one grow.

i think my soul was put into the wrong vessel,
maybe i was supposed to be a tree (as my name suggests)
or a bird or fish.
or maybe something much more discreet like branches on a tree, or myelin from a mushroom (to help connect).

that’s me: in time, in reality, in relativity. in the womb, out the womb. i’m supposed to be woven into nature and out of sight, not supposed to be heard, behind the scene, hushed stage crew.

but then you try and take me and make me the star of your scene.

maybe that’s where i’m supposed to be, in space, in a star, or maybe a star. to burn out after years, and bloom again (like a flower, since stars and flowers and us are very alike.)

yeah that’s all i am, shades of colors and soft dust. star dust. distant yet so close.

if you love me and hold me, i’ll be okay if you leave me. for i am not supposed to be here.

I’m supposed to limpid, colorful, and skyey;

die in winter, born in spring.

That is supposed to be me (for eternity).
idk what to do by myself more than retail jobs, and office squares.
larger than 100 dollar bills, and greener than your new car.
1.6k · Nov 2016
Mankind's Habit
acacia Nov 2016
Time isn’t slowing
and I’m genuinely disturbed.
The leaves are changing color
as they plummet to their death.
Watching the seasons change
helps me track the days and nights.

Murders happen mostly at night;
I’ve only let a couple of casualties
slip into my sights and some carnage
pass my eyes; there’s nothing like that type of view.

At first, I felt depressed watching their lives get taken away,
and I promised myself I would never fully watch it.
Yet, my eyes peeked between my fingers
and the intensity of the ****** floated away,
deafening my ears and sharpening my vision.

Something in each and every death made me tingle less
and twitch more.
Some don’t end the way they should, but
we ignore it because what can we do?

Doesn’t it fascinate you? The way the process happens?
Loose ends, clogged orifices, shredded cloth,
wine-stained skin, broken bones; it’s all manmade and natural.

Imagine, someone dancing on the rooftop,
they twirl and spin, living on cloud nine.
They twirl and spin in the wrong direction
and suddenly they slide far down.
Their sleeve gets caught on a hook,
(I bet the air up there felt so amazing),
cloudy minds and foggy visions,
the cloth tears inch by inch.
But now, the air gets thick and imminent danger comes;
they then look down and the people who could do something
continue to record and take photos.

The sleeve rips off and a silence fills their minds.
Everyone looks away, if they didn’t see it then it never happened.
And what I’ve noticed is the help didn’t stop,
they all just stared so no one must’ve cared.

My brain will recognize these patterns and
registers it’s the outside phenomenon which will hurt my body.
A lot of the time no one realizes that someone close has died,
but weeks of watching will show I know the whole story.

For a while, I couldn’t recognize death audibly.
Because of this, I’d sometimes only listen to the noises and not look at the screen.
It helped.
My brain then noticed another pattern and I could almost sense death.
Even now, I’m tempted to look away and to grimace, but why should I?
Is death being in my field of view a sin?

My eyes scanned over another video quickly.
The pit bulls seemed to have a nice meal.
Note to self: avoid dogs in Africa.
(Poem was rewritten 1/18/17)
WARNING: I have no idea how people will take this poem. I put NSFW because this COULD be a sensitive topic for anyone. I wouldn't classify it as gorey or graphic but someone else could. So, since I think I am sort of talking about sensitive material... it'd be better to put NSFW in the tag, too. It is "confessional" yet not of my personal life. This is more of a confessional poem from the view of a human who is being desensitized to mortality due to a friend introducing them to this taboo world of watching people die. It's sort of an experience of someone I know. I thought it was interesting. And I wanted to write about it from their point of view. Then again, if I keep saying to you guys and myself that it's not my confessions of watching it, am I lying to myself? LOL, please don't take this the wrong way.
1.5k · Nov 2018
with Paris in my head
acacia Nov 2018
With Paris, in the city of stars. City of the merry-go-rounds with white steeds
and gold sterling-stallions awaiting me to joyously ride upon.

Gold coins dancing in my pockets as we spin and spin --
please, go on. Carry on my white steeds and my gold sterling-stallions!
Dance with me as the passerby rush without noticing.

My hair is tangled in the wind and the wind is tangled in my face
and my face is cold and in the cold my face smiles.
Lights blur, movements cease. It's only me, you, and these bright stars.

Screams fade, chatter halts;
there's nothing but the woosh of the wind, the flurry of my heart.

Don't you see this is where I am? This is who I am?
On this merry-go-round constantly spinning. Forever fast, forever slow.
Forever east, forever west
in Paris.

Such a sweet name, such a sweet tomb -- oh, what a sweet gesture.
Thank you, Paris, for carving this for me.
I will always keep this in my pocket,
so as to remember you as you have remembered me.
with Paris. with the Eiffel Tower. why would I ask for more? when I have you, Paris.
1.3k · Jul 9
acacia Jul 9
Because of you when I close my eyes I see ascending tectonic plates
shifting higher planes of mind
risening of my aura
deterioration of my magnetic field, for You and yours are too powerful to stand off or overcome
You love that, you like that
I am no longer awaiting your return for I have found peace, tranquility, comfort, and solace
with the projected matrix buffered loaded script avatar You spring to me,
whilst I save all my energy for the husk I cry into
I am selfish for wanting to give you and You my womb -- please, eat. enjoy the meal, the nutrition I have carved, paved, and heated for you
if I had a head I’d rest it on your shoulder
I’m so sleepy; take a nap with me, yeah? I’ll make You feel better (I know you’re staying in again)
I close my eyes and see roses and the bougie bougainvillea growing for y(Y)ou
1.3k · Mar 2017
acacia Mar 2017
He likes the bare necessities and the feel of **** skin rubbing
against fabric on a quiet night.
He sees the beauty in raw flesh fitted on armored bones;
he likes the way his veins cross paths and the way his tongue moves.
He closes his eyes and extends his fingers to touch himself,
fresh out the shower,
as he fantasizes of other disrobed bodies.
He sees her in his dream of ecstasy,
the colors of the rainbow filter their tangled bodies,
dim lighting and the smell of lilacs and the feel of warmth.
In this vision, her hands skim over his elongated neck
and his sallow fingers paw at her umber belly
under the shadows of his silhouette
and under a canopy of steam and the moon.

She's seen it once in a dream;
a castle of euphoria and bliss.
In a dream where they're ****,
making her privates speak and her feet yell;
making them glorious and making her feel him inside of her.
Bringing her to a place that smells like her favorite flowers,
to a place that has his favorite color painted onto walls;
loving her while he makes her body holy in his name.
The heavens are in tune with her and him,
and each new day brings their bodies to a praise.
The majestic magic that his hands and tongue work
feels so amazing.
And he will color her in and his word so sure,
tasting sweet upon the tongue,
glossed and glazed.

I knew it was him all along,
lying there in his **** glory:
washed-out skin, rosy under eyes, swirls, solid eyes, and pink lips.
An almost perfect man, lying there with blissful thoughts
of ebony collarbones and soft black spirals stuck to an enchanting face.
Blissful thoughts of two conflicting bodies -- one ivory and one ebony --
that complement like yin and yang.
He likes to touch himself.
1.3k · Apr 2016
I Fall Asleep Too Easily,
acacia Apr 2016
I fall asleep too easily,
I fall asleep too fast.
I fall asleep too terribly hard,
For me to ever get rest.

My brain should be well-trained,
‘Cause I’ve made a sleep schedule in the past,
But still I fall asleep so easily,
I fall asleep too fast.

I take everything too personally,
I take everything to heart.
I feel everything with such intensity,
For things to ever last.

My heart and actions should be unclouded,
‘Cause I’ve took some time to learn,
But I still take everything so personally,
I take everything to heart.
A personal play on Chet Baker's lyrics "I Fall in Love Too Easily".
1.3k · Mar 2017
acacia Mar 2017
Dipped in blue waters,
tranquil vibes ebb and flow and it makes you cry.
Chambers echo and we float as our hair
catches the tides motion.
Silky bodies rubbed and collided,
lips crashing and noses touching.
The human anatomy respected
and designed by your powerful hand.
The touch and bruise of you.
Chambers echo as we dance in the sea,
creatures arise in curiosity.
I swim with you, we swim in unison.
Because the world is round it turns me on. Because the world is round. Because the sky is blue it makes cry. Because the sky is blue. Because the wind is high it blows my mind. Because the wind is high.
1.1k · Jun 2018
with(out) sand in my ears
acacia Jun 2018
To be a human and to
drift in and out of
here does not seem plausible.

But when I am to die and I
open my eyes, I’ll find that I am washed
up on shore.

Somewhere between my birth and death,
memories continue to be made and fade.

To be free from this cycle 
of life, death and repeat,
will be the ultimate goal.

I want to be free. To live a life in valleys,
to sit in grass,
to wade along the shoreline.
i’m constantly comparing myself to others.
976 · Mar 2017
"I light my incense..."
acacia Mar 2017
I light my incense
and light my candles in a hazy daze.
If we were made in his image,
then call us by our names.
We are not gods and we are not close to it
but animals fear us like we are.
I was born in the water,
where the sea split so I could breathe.
I pray you don’t have to cut my time short.
The universe is in tune with me
and the Heavens are cheering me on;
my body moves in fluid motions.
it could all be so simple
921 · Mar 2017
I Wait Patiently
acacia Mar 2017
i wait patiently for daddy,
i wait calmly for him.
my heart is heavy and my soul is weary,
he needs to rescue me.
has he not seen me recently
i've been down and out.
my moods have been shifting
and my mind has closed as i wait
patiently for daddy,
i wait calmly for him.
i occupy myself with images of him.
his arms comfort me and they tell me
that i'm the only one.
he'll come for me soon, i know it,
he won't leave me for dust.
i waited patiently for daddy,
i waited calmly for him.
he left me for a rose garden,
and he didn't like sunflowers anymore.
yikes yikes yikes yikes
889 · Apr 2017
acacia Apr 2017
umbra kragebein,
ny hud og prikkfri bein.
mørkt hår og tykk brynen,
en ibenholt jevn av mykhet
og bakker med en sjokolade topp.
daler på sidene og
kremete glede og virvel.
en navle basseng fylt med
væske ønske og
dynamisk frykt at var fueled
og hemninger at var la løs.
bare ham og hans hjerte...
862 · Apr 2017
acacia Apr 2017
aldri vil jeg være fri,
alene og kald,
alene og fanget;
åndelig frihet er hva
jeg ønsker for.
it feels like i'm dying
860 · May 2017
acacia May 2017
papaya oransje og
blåbær blå.
jeg spise med begge hendene og
min munn er farget med fargen.
pioenrosa og blek blå.
papaya orange and
blueberry blue.
i eat with both hands and
my mouth is stained/colored with colors.
peony pink and pale blue.
acacia Apr 6

felt the ripples of the waves and the blurred out lanes into my anatomy
and felt the seed and ate each sunflower’s petal all the same while you stuck your seed up into my own pink fleshy guts that pulsate with your bulging hand.

and i stood up with all of your claws on mine
and my paws rested on your hide, on your silver chest —
i give it to you, i give it to you, i give it to you.
i’ll let the spirits collide and hear what’s going on
inside my lungs, let them all hear the
thump and pound of our walls.


saw him behind the buzzing bees and the blurry swirls of crystal and motion
the same neon purple flooded my eyes
as i let you flood my insides the same flooded night on the dingy brown couch
in your brother’s basement

you know, i’m crazed.
i’m in a field of dandelions,
wild flowers, lavenders, peonies,
the wildest of flowers,
i’m gratefully stuck in a swirling
whirl of trust and the smallest of
daring flying flies.
I regret nothing! I will not be silenced! Maybe you’re not doing things right!
acacia Jul 2016
Your fair skin glistens in the dark;
but with the moonlight I can see your muscular silhouette.
Your blue eyes are the cloudiest I’ve ever seen,
scanning and analyzing every nook and cranny of my body.

My hands glide over each detail of your chest
and you inhale sharply, quickly.
Your hands cup me, I’m overflowing;
I’ve never felt such ecstasy

from you -- yeah, you.
We only took four steps to your bed,
I only took a minute to get undressed,
and then it took even quicker to take off your clothes.

Can I put on a show for you, daddy?
Let me give you a good time.
You look at me with smiles and those ripples,
your lips are warm tracing over my navel.

I like the way your hands grab my waist,
I like the way we collide and turn in unison.
My sixty dollar red dress sprawled out in the corner,
your tongue going places no one else has gone.

Put me on your lap,
I wear your love and lust
and you wear your **** skin so well;
your bareness against mine.

You ask who you are and you whisper your command,
and I have never responded so fast.
My fingers through your hair and your tongue on mine,
our bodies converse and our bodies are no longer secrets.

Let me put on a show for you, daddy.
Let me give you a good time.
Let me put on a show for you, sir
and let me give you a thrill.
This is a little explicit and got a lot of inspiration from a song I heard.
800 · May 2016
acacia May 2016
Show me how to feel real,
I wish someone could
show me how to feel real.

Abducted by aliens and I've never felt more at home --
what is a home? --
but that was years ago.

I was taken out of this infinity and it turned from color to black and white.

Don't say maybe if you want to say no --
just go after my hands.
Grab them and take me to the heavens,
open up my eyes and tell me who you are.

"As if you'd fall for that,"
and lately I don't need any love.
And feeling mechanical and my joints ache and
this is what it feels like:

I'm driving,
I have no music on -- I'd rather listen to your voice
than to my favorite song.

It's a lonely drive.
I wish someone would show me a better way.
783 · Aug 2017
acacia Aug 2017
i look at him with dreams
and he stares back with reality.
he is patient and he is true
766 · Jun 2017
Gagging on His Love (NSFW)
acacia Jun 2017
Thrusting deeper into my opening,
wet tongue sliding around the shaft; bubblegum pink.
He’s doing 500, he’s not slowing down.
Brute and rough like a daddy,
sweet and soft like a lover.
Blue lights make his body fluorescent
and I don’t need a difference or a space or a distance
between me and him.
Gray eyes cloudy, lips moist and curled into a grin.
A slight moan escapes his throat.
Eyes shut, brows knit; one hand on my head,
the other cupping me like a cup.
(I can’t help it -- the nasty, the *****,
the grit, the dark, the deep --
it touches all over my body.)
SIGH. sorry for it being kind of explicit. just, you know, hormones.
738 · Mar 2017
deep sea fantasies
acacia Mar 2017
**** and on my back,
hair sprawled out against the pillow.
you make me float
and you stroke me in the middle.
we drift deeper as you hold me close.
we change positions, a new position,
and you work it for me.
you get me where i'm going and
you take me to a new realm.
lets coast and slow down,
but now put yourself in overdrive.
my hands are between my thighs
and you kiss down and around my navel
and the lights from the outside world
highlight you
and you're beautiful in the dark.
use yourself like you've never used yourself before.
and until we reach shore,
explore my body and i will
explore yours like a sailor
exploring the seven seas.
inspired by rock the boat by aaliyah
acacia Jul 16
My tears boil in a kettle over the stovetop, and it whistles
but I don't move for
I am in my own dreamland, it is safe here

In a world of my own I won't have to cry
about not being enough, about not having enough
In my land there won't be any competition,
all of the races will already be finished
My heart will be so big it covers me from head to toe;
every perimeter I walk on I will pump blood into the dirt of the gnolls and dales, nutrition and vitamins fed to every inanimate and animate thing: there is no distinction in my world

I want to be blind to the outisde world,
my eyes shrouded with shimmers and mink fur
I want cherry blossoms to cover each apple on my body,
marigolds shielding my honeydews and my backside
So that when I wake up in my bed huddled in blankets,
warm skin against fresh sea-shelled shell sheets, I can
shower in rain every single morning, bathe in the clearest
puddles every single night

For skin I'd have pink, violet, and (my favorite shade of) blue petals,
for eyes I'd have the smoothest pebbles
My hair would be cascading billowing streams of blue sky
I'd sew grass blades into lingerie, I'd take the Moon and crush her into gemstones
All in this world of my own

I can have wings for swimming
I can have flippers instead of feet
I can have a tail for flying
All in this world of my own

In my dreamland where it's safe:
I'm being hugged by the clouds
I'm dressed in a sweater stitched with the threads of Our dreams,
shoes made of puddles of tears from the lazy yawn instead of pain from my heart;
my heart can be my own heart, my heart can be my heart
My heart will feel only my love and my heart will give only my love

I could freely be selfish with the birds above me,
with the bees that hover the waterbed,
with the smells that linger near me,
and the trees that grow under my feet:

I won't have to share the love around me,
I won't have to give my love that feeds me
In this world that I have created,
I will only have eyes for my world, and my world will only have eyes for me
In this world that I have created,
the world can love me and I can love it back

O, in a world of my own . . .

Though it seemed like motion-sickness, the kettle is no longer whistling and the people around me yell and ask, "What is wrong with you? Why did you leave the kettle on?"

I fly away from them, onto the punch-red sofa
I sit
O, in a world of my own . . .
I wrote the original a couple months ago but only recently rewrote it

I wrote this because we all want to be selfish sometimes. This is a result of that want, that thought to be away from everyone and selfishly have your own land only to you

in our worlds, we all can be whoever we want, do whatever we want because we are not stars, no, we are comets (gods)
acacia Jun 22
You do know you've touched me and melted through my skin,
my veins, my bones, my everything, my nothing.
I can feel your hands on my shoulders, on my cheeks,
brushing a curl behind my ear.

I feel it and it's warm, it's familiar. It's euphoric. Like I've orgasmed. Better than an ******. An honest-to-you experience.

You knew everything that happened, you saw everything.
You unbuttoned my shirt, undid my bra, unzipped my jeans,
wriggled off my underwear.
Your tender kisses everywhere on my body;
your tenderness raining everywhere ontop of me.
I held you, I held you. I loved you. I love you.

We were splendid, it was dark and dim. A white unbuttoned shirt;
you are already shirtless, with a black band around those frail wrist
of yours. It's the same white sheets I've always seen.

It's you I've always seen. I've found you.

My smile is wide. I've remembered you like the Queen and King. I've remembered these inches of you, I've remembered being you and you being me.
You are mine, I am yours.
This cloud has been lifted off my shoulders -- you lifted it, didn't you?
You soft, cheeky man. You know what you've been doing, you knew what you were doing when you sent it.

You knew, you've always known. I knew, I've always known.
You: I remember you. I feel your lips with my head pressed against the wall. I see your lips while my head is pressed against the wall.

Such a soft neck you have, a pretty neck. Light neck.
Yeah, that's it. She's gone -- I've forgiven her, and you, and me. And we.

It's over. I can go up. With you, with him, with me. With all of us. Life.

You did. You did. You were. You are. I love you.
acacia Dec 2017

time’s changed, and you’re so much different than you used to be. i’ve changed, i’m more open, but my heart still feels pain the same dumb way it always has. i’m still really uptight and i can’t let myself go. i can’t seem to loosen my inhibitions. you’re trying to close this distance, but realistically i can’t break down in front of everyone and leave, or disappear. i don’t have the guts.

will you love that part of me? the part that is trying to get keep myself away from intimacy because it is self-loathing? i don’t mean to be so uptight and so reluctant to do anything. i’m always so scared, and i’ve never really lived life too much on the edge. our differences seem to clash a little bit, and sometimes it’s like we’re speaking two different languages. but your fire is what i crave, and you say that my water is what you need. i’m terrified of dampening your flame, suffocating your fire.

you’re trying to close this distance between us, and realistically i’ll never leave you now or later; you promise the same thing. but if i’m not enough for you and if i make you feel this bad, please leave. don’t stay. if i can’t make you better or complement you, please leave. don’t waste time with me.

my distance isn’t because i don’t want you. i just want you to be able to think clearly, don’t want to mess this up for you. i’m here to keep you from going crazy, to keep you from snapping, to keep you from breaking. you say i’ll find a part in you that i really won’t like, but i’ll love that part of you. i’ll deal with that part of you. i’ll hold that part of you. you’ll never drive me crazy. you won’t scare me.

season’s repeat, we’re different. but you still swear you’re in love with me, can you not see? am i not dampening your fire? you’re a king, and the world is your holy golden throne. i’m nothing but a servant, yet you swear that i am your queen. i know this isn’t right, it isn’t the role fit for me. i’m worth nothing more than a handful of dirt, and i hear those sell close to nothing these days.

i’m love dazed, and i hunger after you. it’s always so dark without you. you make me smile, don’t you notice that? everyone and everything makes me sad. but you manage to make me smile more than anyone else on this planet and my soul belongs to you. i’ve made a vow to you. i’ve never done that before. i swallowed you, but you don’t see what i see, how much that matters to me. i’m going to give you my innocence. i want to give you my maidenhead and more.

these times will pass, and these emotions will pass. so will everyone else. the world will even pass (the scene of this world is changing), but i swear, we will remain. your heart will always touch my heart, and my hand will always touch your hand. my eyes will always look into yours, and your lips will always touch mine.

i want to be perfect for you. i want to be the perfect slave. can’t you love this phase for me? this phase that is trying to let you control me. it is not you, my love. it is me. sweetheart, i’m telling you. i need to get used to this. i’ve never found this in anyone else. i need you to stay here, and please continue to be patient; patience is what i will give you, too.

dampen part two

stay a while. take your shoes off. (i know you don’t like taking your shoes off, but you’ll be here for a minute.) i’ll get comfortable when you are comfortable with me. i’ll relax and let loose, i’ll loosen my inhibitions if you do it for me. you know it’s hard for me to not care, to push everything into the back of my mind, into the back of my throat. but how can i when you are everything? i don’t want you in the back of me. i want you where i can see, in front of me, in the front of me. the redundant things that circle my mind bulge out of me, and you kiss it like it’s a cut. the beauty of this is in the kiss. it’s the most gentlest kiss you’ve ever given me.

agave nectar sweat. sweethearts eyes. honeydew lips. olive skin. don’t further your distance from me because in your arms, you lift me into a bed. a bed is home. it’s a buoy. a buoy in the ocean, in the ocean on a cloudy day. you are the day that brings forth the rain, my rain; with all this rain recently your soul has been a bit dampened. but if i never rained, you wouldn’t know how i feel, and communication is important. but without my rain the plants wouldn’t grow, the plants in you would be dry and dehydrated. they’d burn away. and the plants inside of you are beautiful, the flowers seem surreal. the flora is so green and lush, the trees are so tall that they reach the stars. your fauna is delicate and they grow so elegantly.

you snip off my clothing like you’d snip off my hair. you bite me as if you are a hound (your bite is worse than your bark), or maybe a vampire (you like the taste of a little blood). my ears are kissed and breathed on, my whole being quivers and my heart moans. my body whimpers when you put a heavy hold onto my throat, whispering how you could crush my windpipe. do you like that? do you like the power you have over me? i know i do.

my cheek is red and my ears ring. i see stars and when i look at you, i see the stars that you hung above the world. my heart swells, and my body shakes with your quick slaps and thumps. the rough grip that you have is like a carpet burn, an indian burn. my lip bleeds, you’ve drawn blood. the hits against my walls seem to be an indescribable pain yet, an insurmountable amount of pleasure.

i squirm and contort, you roughly drag me back into you. you question where i think i’m going as you know that i cannot distance myself from you. don’t feel bad, my love, for you are just the right amount.

i feel the wet, hot stings of you all on my stomach. it’s even gotten on her. she is raw and she is throbbing with an itch. i won’t further my distance from you.

this was an hour i cannot forget. he’s turned into the time of the day that i won’t ever not think about, that i won’t ever not feel.
this is one of the ways i can that i love you, especially since we speak different languages.
702 · Mar 2017
"I can hydrate your soul,"
acacia Mar 2017
I can hydrate your soul,
I can water your plants.
Open up your eyes and recognize
that there’s more than just man.
Stay reverent and open to
these teachings, and there’s a reason.
aquatic meditation. he believes in the good of man
acacia Apr 2017
The same thing that flows in the river,
flows in me.
It's all blue in your eyes
and you have entranced me;
my beautiful aphrodisiac,
and the same thing that flows in the river,
flows in me.
I want to go where the rainbow starts and ends.
685 · Mar 2017
With the Wind
acacia Mar 2017
I will breathe in the rain,
I will taste the sunshine,
I will bask in the moon’s soaked glow.
Saturated in light, dipped in moonshine;
onwards and onwards, drunk into the desert’s
night. The stars will shine for me and
trumpets will blare.
Smooth brown skin, and feminine cries;
gentle tapping and wet kisses.
Still, I digress and the pendulum that
swings far left and far right
will never cease as my body catches the wind
and changes with the seasons.
acacia Jul 2018
i said i'd jump in this fast, so don't slow me down
)if i'm going too fast(

there's no turning back
and i asked if you could not hug her there;
you only hug me there.

'cause people, they don't understand.
won’t care to understand.
your family ain’t gonna understand
brain can’t even understand.

i can feel its roar (the wind in my heart
that blows your hair);
and this monster is terrifying my mind for revenge.

and my tank water is green, and something i've never seen

-- this algae --

continues to grow.
i thought it was ich at first, but it's

turning me off. (i don't expect you to understand how this car works)

the fish feel left out and so do i.
but you all won't ever understand.
inspiration from the strokes
669 · Apr 2018
six years old
acacia Apr 2018
Little baby sleeping on the roof, sometimes on the branch.
Gently weeping, sometimes leading to slumber.
Small body shaking, curled against a biting wind.
Eyes swollen from crying. 
Needs a hand to hold her, lips to kiss her;
she needs to feel it from you.
Rejected from the warm womb, from the strong arms to be held in.
(She needs to feel it from you.)
i wish you'd come home today; i wish my they really loved and knew me! i wish i had parents (but you're enough for me)!
651 · Mar 2017
I'll Love Him
acacia Mar 2017
looking at him knowing i'll have to let go soon,
sickens my stomach
and pains my heart.
but it needs to happen.
and when it does,
ill love him
630 · Apr 2016
My Birth and Death
acacia Apr 2016
Somewhere between my birth and death,
Flowers wilt and sulk,
Leaves breakaway,
And the wind carries the seedlings.

Things fall and deteriorate,
Things are crushed and tumbled --
Yet a new leaf turns
And life flourishes.

Spring is the start --
The youngest.
Summer’s never giving in a hurry,
Yet Winter is ready to take away.

Somewhere in the middle of the beginning,
When time was formed
And my soul carried on,
The world was young and stars were their own gravity.

No precious light,
No vacuum,
No precious sacred clusters,
Only celestial music being formed.

Sometime before it all existed,
There was something standing even stiller --
Motionless, idle, even static;
An entity of something greater.

A place that’s so pure,
So tender and raw.
Show me a better way,
Follow me and
Show me a better way.
I wish you would --
Come home today.
I wish you would
Come home today.
619 · Jan 2017
Pretty Lace
acacia Jan 2017
The sky is blanketed with an indigo sheet,
everything is right in Heaven but I wouldn’t know.
I belong in the sky, swan wings and molting feathers.
Graceful flight, elongated legs, my feet diminishes with the wind.
These white towels and your pale skin are the only things that keep me warm.

Rosacea spread across your cheek like jam,
rub my pretty lace and slip your fingers in.
It’s the body I love, the body I need along with everything you do;
**** your body for me, sacrifice your soul for me.
A clothless, disrobed angel.
600 · Aug 2018
lord of the day
acacia Aug 2018
lord, o lord, i’ll keep my mouth shut.
i’ll tape it thoroughly shut, so shut that skylight can’t get out.
so no one can feel warmth baking their skin golden brown, like bread.
like the manna i was blessed with, but forsaken; for goodness sake, i’ve made this mistake!
yes, i’ve made a mistake.
so, to pay,
only the moon from my eyes will give some light-- a cold light [though, it’s still light].
i’ll give a dimly lit night
for foggy travels.
and seemingly, what you all said (even what i said) ceased to matter to the lord.
585 · Jul 2017
samson and delilah
acacia Jul 2017
When we first met, I was almost in love.
I ogled your pink lips that were engulfed by a black beard.
My eyes bulged when I saw your handsome face.
I drooled over your tall athletic frame.
Your lips curled into a grin as you asked my name.

I’ve known of you to be the strongest man in Jerusalem --
is this true? What brought a gorgeous man like you to this village?
A man who killed villainous Philistines day and night.

The Scriptures never mentioned we had the deepest conversations
and laughed and kissed, how you completely fell for me,
and how you were my almost lover.

The trees were so much taller, the green was so much greener,
and sky was bluer because of you.
The birds were always singing, manna was
so much less, and milk and honey were so much more.

I was offered silver in trade for you.
I was offered silver to find out the secret
of where your might came from. The might and strength
that threatened the world, it’s power.
You were my sweetest downfall, almost lover.

At night, after we drank the third glass of red wine,
on the purple bed, you took another glass.
You curled my hair, your caressed my cheeks,
you giggled like a little boy.

I whispered as I begged for you to tell me
where your strength lies and where you get your might.
You tugged on my hair, and your mouth zippered up.
Your eyes rolled back into your head, and you slept on a blue silk pillow.
You never finished your fourth glass of wine.

I took my shears and cut it all off.
Loc after loc. Strand after strand.
To pretend it never happened,
I snuck away and traded your hair for the silver.
I rolled my eyes back into my head
and pretended it never happened.

Did the Scriptures mention that?
Or the guilt I felt? Or the talks we had?
Even once?

I got my money;
they captured you
but the Scriptures never mentioned my regret --
not even once.
acacia Mar 2017

I’ve found God somewhere out there far out in the ocean,
waiting patiently and he feels bittersweet about what you speak;
his feet are getting cold.
God has this set date and time and when he is ready
the sea will split, thunder will boom, and fire will breathe.
His scent lingers and he follows me around. He understands that
my mind still says redundant things and he still loves that part of me.
God is nicer than you think.
I’ve had a conversation with God. He told me all about his favorite
types of lilacs and waterlilies. Realistically, I couldn’t leave then.
You know, once I tried to fight but the first time I lost.
The second fight was backed by God and I had his blessing.
Is that not proof enough?
It’s real, it’s solid.
I’ve found God and he is out there deep within space.


Dry skin and cracked lips,
watery eyes and seduction.
Thoughts of the world’s showy things
gush into my head but I will not let
these things take me away; my heart
skips a beat when I see you.
Your face looks incredible and where
is your mind? Where is your heart?
It’s somewhere and I see you swimming
to retrieve them. But it’s not with
God. And if it’s not with God I will not
let the deluge of love capture my soul.
God’s anger flares and his wrath begins to show
as I disobey him for another time.
I run away from home and I bring
my backpack and my journal,
and I hop onto my bike and pedaled
faster than before.
Where is my mind? Where is my heart?
For these things are not with God.
Where did my eyes roam?
Where did my soul go?
For these things are not with God.
I let those former things take me away.
And now I need God to dive back into me,
and to save me from this catastrophe.
When I prayed that night
on the cold bench,
I knew he’d swim halfway if I’d swim halfway.
Faith without works is dead.
I dove into him and
God rolled his eyes back into his head
to pretend it never happened.


I’ve found God but you don’t care.
You say that when we **** we go back in time
to a time we weren’t born in
You say our veins run backwards
and we don’t see in color anymore.
But when the sun goes down,
our brains transforms and we think and question.
You tell me God’s not winning and the Flying Spaghetti Monster
and Cthulu seems plausible.
You wouldn’t believe this but I know God’s name.
I promise you I know his name.
Jehovah sees us. He wants us to prosper and he wants us to flourish.
There’s just simple commandments we have to stroll by.
They aren’t hard, our obstacles make it hard.
I want to answer your questions because I have the answer.
You wouldn’t believe this but I’ve found the truth
and I’ve found God. His word was inspired by him and I’m sorry
that you can’t comprehend it.
But I’ve found God, not in me nor for myself,
but for all of us. He is what we cannot understand
because we physically cannot grasp the notion
of something so mighty; we weren’t made to understand him.
But I’ve found God.
yeah, i've found god for all of us. leave your opinions and whatever facts you want. i won't mind, we're all diverse enough so please, let us have these opposing opinions or the same opinions because it's okay. i don't believe we're all the same, i don't care. we're individuals and we're different. make yourself stand out and shine, don't get trapped in this solipsistic and existentialist view of the world and of who we are. don't let it **** the joy out of you because that is what it will do. it will tear you to pieces and lick you and feel you up. it won't be nice.
561 · Nov 2016
Priceless Bodies
acacia Nov 2016
The way our bodies are so intricate,
doesn’t this amaze you? I’m looking now at each and every line on my palm
and somehow I want to cut open each one.

There is something so special about the blood that fills our hand
and there’s something precious about the capillary refill that takes place with
each touch. I’m searching for a real thing to cherish within our bodies.

Will I find it?

A ripped nail, a broken nose,
skin slippage, severed head,
entrails taken out, brash as ****.

I end my day with the anatomy textbook,
and picture cutting my pocket knife (or maybe something bigger)
into my patient’s throat and hear the gurgling sounds.

I had too much free time as a child.
So many white lies humans tell and so many
white lines humans draw, yet who crosses these lines and tells these lies?

I’m searching for these answers
and it might lay within the anatomy of some type of mammal;
an expensive mammal.

A mammal more precious than any that has ever existed
and I don’t think they all understand
and can convey why life is so cherishable.

And why it’s something that I want to take
to see for myself how they’re taken and
where they go. I used to think that I could get a jar and hold it forever.

Xany gnawing, silver spooned, and Caddy driving lives in a jar.
It’d sparkle and it’d illuminate my dark room,
and maybe it could warm me up a little.

I’m searching for something real to love.
Noah is... really starting to wonder why he's doing these things and figuring out how to explain himself. Noah really is interested in the human body. He likes knowing how things live, work, and die. He wants to know. I'm labelling all these with the NSFW tag just in case.
557 · Apr 2016
Minding the Spirit
acacia Apr 2016
Knowledge is attainable through an open mind,
we try to be pure in heart, mind, and soul.
We are all sinful, we need self-control
to hurdle over these temptations.

Fleshly desire anchoring us down,
sin’s law instilled in our hearts.
The heart is treacherous and
the power of truth will persevere.

Every word and action reflects on God’s name,
we should aspire to meditate on whole things.
In all we do, this is our main goal:
minding our spirit and self-control.
"Minding the flesh brings trouble and strife,
minding the spirit brings peace and life."
548 · Jun 16
The Morning of a Cherub
acacia Jun 16
Not these nymphs, but you,
I would perpetuate.
Not these boys, but you,
boyish man. (Fresh-faced men like you.)
You hit me with your stubborn clanging fists, and I sit
watching you with my round doe eyes, and you stay

Your scruff burns me, but you keep
sliding on me. The breeze swirls around your ears, the leaves sweep
itself over your feet, the rain are flutes.
I conduct the ruins of what used to be, into the castle
of now,

I take some wild clovers
and some green vines from here and there;
weaving into the wheat, the wheat sewn into the doors;
the thresholds lined with sugar to keep you here,
lined with salt to keep me here.

my fruitful man, gazing at me from your rocks,
(the rocks by the water, which if followed, would get pulled down deeper and deeper, until you've awash unto his shore)
penetrate me with your stoney eyes;
skyey you are not, limpid you are not,
tangible you are, my innocence you do not wish to keep.

You hold my sugar in a cup,
you drink from the tears of
my callow face.
("Too innocent," you say I am. You say, "I need to violate.")

You string your words on a ribbon of silk, and
your eyes hop from person from book, because they all bore you --
and you lean on your elbow with your chin resting in your palm,

with twiney fingers and veins;
you, my opaque man:
let me get lost in your waves, in your dew, in your fog.
You, my boyish man, my devilish god, I would perpetuate.
Was it a dream I loved?

inspired by The Afternoon of a Faun by Stephane Mallarame
542 · May 2016
Que Sera Sera
acacia May 2016
The sun sets and the moon rises,
the moon sets and the sun rises.

The wind will catch my hair and drift me away from this world
and the clouds will sway to the drum of my heart.

When the tides of the sea have calmed down,
the sand will grip to each and every centimeter of me.

The Earth tilts and the seasons change,
the Earth tilts again and the seasons change again.

And my mind will wander into the deep abyss while the rest of the Earth's memories of each day will become a distant chimera.

The trees grow and their roots go deeper,
the roots are ripped out and the tree dies.

The tailwinds cry and the silence is broken,
and warm winds carry me into the vacuum of space;

a sea of stars and I'm drowning;
whatever happens, happens.
Que sera, sera meaning whatever will be, will be.
525 · Nov 2016
Makes Me Human
acacia Nov 2016
My mind slips away and folds and turns as it glides its lanky way
to somewhere I can truly be loose and not trapped.
Not trapped. Trapped.
I’m trapped in this big universe and there’s nothing else outside of it.

I feel like I’ve traveled to the end of infinity
and sin can’t touch me at this point
because my sins have been crushed and separated
like my atoms when I’m in this plane of the universe.

But, even though this physical box can **** my body,
it’ll never harm my soul. But, I need to think smaller.
If I can’t get out of this universe, I’ll go back and into the galaxy.
But, which one? Where can I destroy?

Maybe I won’t destroy anything but I will be curious.
I’ll be careful not to destroy on purpose but I might on accident.
if it was a mistake, it’s okay. In this part of the galaxy,
sin exists.

The closer I get to a galaxy, to a solar system, to planets, to an Earth,
my body twitches and my hair stands up. I start to become restless
and an empty gray area spaces out my stomach.
I start to get the strangest urges and I’m not disturbed by this.

I seem to want more and I’m more bored. And it’s so quiet and
I have so much power in this quiet and in this dark.
When I walk around, I’ve never wanted to be crucified more than now.
Do they really hate me? Am I really this scary?

In a blink of an eye, there was blood on me and I could smell the control.
This disease of wanting more and to hurt and I can’t help it.
I hear them screaming out but don’t you want to feel my power?
I bet you hate me now, I know you hate me now.

Was this worth it? Would I do it again?
Give me a crown and let me continue to reign over this flesh filled
planet. There’s always someone who will make me hesitant to
finally cut into their skin. But can I stop the image of rope and wine?

I can’t recall the last time I even tried to listen to anyone
and I want to be the one who makes sure you get to bed
and that you are tucked in. I want the last touch, I want the last glance,
I want the last taste. I’ve got the sickest picture of you in my mind.

Let me feel the pain I inflicted on you and then you can feel a peace of mind,
and I won’t be the death of you anymore.
Why would I be anyway?

Finally, I get to the edge of this sinful and lawful planet,
and I find an empty void of dead bodies and the smell of musk.
An awful smell, an awful feel. But it’s comforting.
My eyes water and I hoped there’d be something meaningful at the end.

Even at the edge of this planet,
even at the edge of this galaxy,
even at the edge of this universe,
there’s still nothing.
A kind of part three (I guess) to Mankind's Habit and Keybindings and the Right Controls. Still Noah, still the same perspective. Maybe, these compulsions make him more human. He's struggling with extremely violent compulsions. I'm tagging this one as NSFW because I feel as if it deals with sensitive topics such as death and wanting to ****, etc. Again, this isn't my confessions or any urges I have. This is about 95% fictional and 5% loosely based off of someone I know.
acacia Jul 26
You don't see* these hues nor these cocoa grayish tones—you mess all over with spilled milk, take my silk from my open womb—spin with it webs from my ovaries—blanket you every night with clouds above your eyes—you take another hit, you fill the room with smoke, but I don't understand why you can't carry anymore—shades of delight, heavy beams on me—can't get up, I'm stuck on you—can't get enough, I **** from you—I do notice remnants of vibrancy in front of my eyes—behind the view—before you, too—neon colors in spaces of white.

No one should take control of this magical affair / no one can lay their eyes over your morning glare / this evening dew / resembles you / intense heat behold my eyes as you dabble over there /
and You never miss a beat while we sing and dance from here / shades of delight, indigo you / sheets of pleasure, I roll under you / spill of rapture, I dip into you / curtains of light, I plash onto you.
*[All I see are shades of delight twirling as if coffee creamer were dribbling into a cardinal mug like weighted paint, heavy trucks weighting on my shoulders in traffic between shoulder-blade-cones, heavy chests, large sounds, heavy breathing; red bulletin, over-hued saturate feelings of cold that never cross my mind; hurricanes unfold furling faster through the nile, namelessly opaque; the coconut astringent alternative never works, toning my skin with no toner; foresting wild, forthcome you, forthcame me, breathing in your smiles, hold me, too; Floridians laugh, cocoa hued, see swirls and whirls of miles floating like endless butterflies pulled from the root up, the pulled road drapes over my hedge like tarps of pomegranate.]

****** number 5.
507 · Sep 2016
In The Painting on My Wall,
acacia Sep 2016
The sun would be shining,
and the sky as blue as the oceans.
Bits and pieces of the memory of past seasons,
filling me to the brim with emotions

in the painting on my wall.

Every flower
would be purple, blue, forbidden colors;
colors only my eyes could see,
and the flowers would grow even taller

in the painting on my wall.

And the wind
would pick up its speed,
and how I’d bend
time to match the inner growth of the ragweeds

in the painting on my wall.
My personal take on the song In a World of My Own from Alice in Wonderland. First time I've legitimately tried rhyme. Might sound a little forced, I think. Rhyme isn't my forte but it doesn't hurt to try! :D
495 · Nov 2016
Raw Tender Wound
acacia Nov 2016
I’m back in my same chair again
and still I study the leaves
and meditate what they mean.
If everyone says the same, doesn't it mean it’s true?
What if the planet is telling me this one thing
and each and every star is echoing the same thing,
so it must be true and then it must be fact.
That means something.

I felt every second and every minute of each hour,
and you can’t even imagine the boredom at the bottom of my stomach;
patch me up and fill me up with something worthy.
Ain’t that somethin’ real?
If everyone says so and it’s worthy of my time,
ain’t it real?

But isn’t that something true to me?
The view, the raw feeling it gives me inside.
The itch I can’t reach and the gnawing inside my stomach,
And the fact that I can’t grasp what I need and it kills me;
And now I’m disturbed and I’m sick and I can’t figure out.
What is this bothering me? Is this something for me?
Tailored, sewn, and pressed for me?

I end my night on my roof,
the stars at my fingertips and the moon as my pillow;
the moon soaking me with a cleansing glow;
the shower up here felt so amazing.
There’s nothing like this type of view.
He needs somebody to love him better than all the others do.
481 · Dec 2018
do our pinks look the same?
acacia Dec 2018
write about the color of my cranberries when they are first ripe, then the juices that spill out like soft milk overflowing;

the way your blood race to your nose and the color of warmth that
fills my hands and spreads down to my toes when
i am sitting beside a fire and some lights, shielded from
the blue outside.

here i am, on the coral sand, greeted by the hushed-colored waters to watch as it just barely covers my feet. (it splashes little splashes of itself on me.)

the tongue that glides over lips with sheen is pink, the smell of the perfume is pink;

the smell of the fauna and flora, natural wildlife spurring around, the mist goes about 3,000 feet in my direction – i think it’d also go about 3,000 feet in yours, as well.

the insides of this dewy bud, juicy and softened, and not yet ripe; flooded with instincts (and insects)

and someone else’s pink.

the color is when i'm angry at you but instead i am angry at me;
and if i could i'd be reborn as a starfish or the tiniest caterpillar you've ever seen.
the color is when i'm angry at you but instead i am angry at me
acacia Jan 2018
thirty more minutes and all i need
is a divine sign that he dreams of holding me
in front of our TV while we watch the new year's ball drop.
i sound ungrateful after all of these things
that's slipped into my lap the past twelve months,
yet i can't get my mind off of what i still want (who i still want).

i sit in front of my monitor clicking and clacking keys
to express how i'm feeling to people i've never met
because i'm too scared to sound unappreciative to you
(because maybe i am). we slept so good last night,
but when i saw her bracelet wrapped around your doorknob,
pieces of me shut down. her pretty name was spelled in hot pink
carved into little black squares, with neon ribbon.
but my bear i worked ******* was in a box kept in the closet,
and i think i know what that means.

twenty minutes until 2018 and i'm thinking back to earlier this year, around march, i was in ryan's car and i gave him a chapbook i made; i gave him a chapbook i put a lot of effort into. he kept it in his drawer, his bottom drawer, where all his trash papers went.

nine more minutes and i'm not with my mom,
i'm not with the love of my life, i'm not with my friends.
but the moon is with me, the air is with me,
my blanket is with me, and so is the internet.
so is my guitar.
i love you
461 · Mar 2017
acacia Mar 2017
She lives life in service to love.
Look deep into her eyes and you’ll see a reflection of yourself,
of all that’s good in humanity; her sweet angel eyes reflect the skies, the oceans.
Her eyes are as deep as the brown roots of the ancient trees that dig deep
and deep down underneath the Earth’s core.
What you see is a woman with a heart of gold, hair made of silk from a web and hair in the shape of tendrils form a leafy green stem, with a laugh like God.
She is pure yin -- one of the two forces that together with yang forms everything that exists and will. Yet, one eye is the moon and the other eye is the sun -- one of spirit and one of flesh.
Her physical body is in sin, in harsh imperfect reality.
Her soul is in purity, in deep-sea fantasies.
So selfless, so passionate, so pensive. All she wants is to serve everyone
for her inner joy and peace comes from the selfless love and acts she perform.
The ultimate lady, the ultra-feminine creation.
So ethereal, so otherworldly, so alien.
Every time she speaks, I believe in God a little bit more. She is a Goddess,
the ultimate creatrix. Tiamat.
I should’ve worshiped her sooner.
ok im done for today
acacia Apr 28
Dripping down the mountains seemed
to hang the Cliffs of Dover;
falling under the tundra where all of the turtle doves go.
And I won’t back down, no, I won’t back down:
go ahead and charge me all you want.

Something silly slides down your pale moonlight skin,
something cool slicks on to my ebony coconut skin.

See my sun set curls? See my oven-baked twirls basking in the dry heat of the night?

So, I won’t back down. No, I won’t back down:
go ahead and free me all you want.

You sit and tickle your fingers down my leg,
I feel each and every goosebump raise, while my hair bears arms, and my heart
keeps knocking —
you always answer and show forever hospitality.

My love for you grows into
the most splendid looking tree —
it tastes of natural and artificial sweeteners;
you like eight packets of sugar,
and you like it when I’m three —
we’re a perfect match, you won’t be
leaving me.

I love you.
acacia Apr 2017
He colors outside of my lines,
he keeps me from going crazy
because he makes me insane.
He acts so generous with his hands
and his tongue dipping into me
has me enraptured in his carcass full of life.
This fantasy motivates me to reach his star,
to reach my most demanding dream.
He pushes me to Hell
then shoves me back to Heaven.
The beauty he’s inflicted is a good pain
and it’s blossoming from a bud to a rose;
the thorn ****** my skin and I bleed.
Will you love this part of me?
Will you own this part of me?
He’s turned into an hour I cannot forget.
realistically i can't leave now but i'm okay as long as you keep me from going crazy. inspired by "lover is a day" by cuco
acacia Aug 10
The driest to evolve from the chambers of The Monads,
echoing from caves, mountains, and hills you roll amongst them all
in a stone pelted armor, cladded you are.
I drop from the depths of the blue sense, blue matter;
you wrinkle our bed sheets, pull them off the mattress with your toes,
I don't ever care, but I mourn when I feel like I am detached from your shine.
Your rays hit every inch of this House; it also hits
the 12th, the 3rd, the 4th, the 10th, and the 11th (even the 1st).
You ring my doorbell, you greet me with a smile:
you always have a grand jury under you.
Kingly Royal Star, I'd never share you: but in order to love you, I must share you, the Sun, you:
on days I don't want to visit Earth, I will continue to cool off by the river where I pour souls from my vase;
soon after a long day of light you come back to me. Uranus and Saturn reel you in as we now cool you off, the next twilight hours are the most important, for this is where you reign and fuel your ego-in-constant-development.
You say I am too cold, well, I say you are too warm.
I lust for you.
I love you so much that Venus could never know, Venus could never understand.
(The bed won’t break. I’m young, you’re old, we know; [GLISSANDE] the world, it’ll fade away. Doesn’t mean we will not stay.)
Mercury swings by me when I am lonely because I never know the difference between needing a friend and needing a lover. I give you all the same straws and you bow down to me, somehow:
to the smokey fog she drew, he cleared (it) so you wouldn’t drown: sea-foam rising in me.
O, King, you hold God in your palm; this is you, this is. O, Monad, I pray to you, I pray for you, for you are fast tracking near me.
I am stuck where I am, floating in your mass: Daylight, come back, twinkling Daylight.
Father of the Skies, you baffle me; amaze me with your ways, and show me how to be.
I feel the bar tip and it is going down, it flies all the way into Pluto’s claw.
Daylight God, you, O, Soul Beam, lead us all in the way of eternal life: show me how to create and express my nature, and I will show you how to refine and idealize your godliness.
You are my hyleg, You are my alcocoden, You are me.
I breathe in Your heat; I take refuge here in your pit with stomach-acid rain, with lava-purge *****. I roll to the nearest grass, I pluck the clovers from outside the widest lawns. I pluck them from fields, I pluck them from cracks.
Clover is my name, and with your rays I delight in sin. You hold me over raging flames, rotate me like a pig. Gods of small and big laugh and clap, you determine me like The One who cries of no pain.

Do you see what I see? Can you see these things?
Sun, you’re sitting with me by the river as I pour souls into this mix of yeast, wine, and gold—yes, all for you.
We share the throne of Chyle, and we whisk the whisk of Minm.
My sobering Prince, look in the waters, King, yes. Do you see you, Monad? Do you see the pretty I see?
I see the browning leaves wrestling with your hair, I see your dark spewing blood-eyes, I see your crater-deep dimples, I see the yarn stitched in for lashes: the most handsome I will ever see, if not, I will never see again. The tannest hand and the pinkest smile: you always come back home, and we sleep for nights and days during the Winter; you never burn the bed away, never during any Seasons.
I wanted to end this, but I can’t right now: I must continue to write [CADENZA] and tell you how you look like shimmers in the sea, like sparkles floating on top of green firth, like the lone fenny seaweed drifting amongst Adam’s ale; you are the small pockets of air clumped together in spindrift froth.
You are the eminent boat and the rowing-downwards motion, the flares of light reflecting off the great sea, the stiffest peaks in the sea-mountains.
You are the coldest gulp of air, the hottest gamma to ray, the darkest vignette to withhold in, the light peering through the treetops; you are zesty and buoyant like waves of heat traveling upwards in the distance; you are the tallest beam to hold God’s (which is You, my Monad) Heaven in place.
I want you on my lips, I want you on my tongue.
I make a small flower-pod bloom, and I do it thinking of you, my Master.
Father of the Shine / you perpetuate all light / you rule everything that is bright / you own everything (one) in sight / you make me smile / you bring my pain / you are the hero I need in any way / you are gold and we stay / I make you cry / I make you laugh / I am the huddles / I am the strongest waves (I am the wind) / [PIU DOLCE] let me take you away.

I must continue to fuel you, give you your fire for the days to burn everything away;
without my air you have no fuel, but too much and I choke you: it’s the Heavens way.
*I must continue to fuel you, give you your fire for the days to burn everything away;
without my air you have no fuel, but too much and I choke you: it’s the Heavens way.

Do you believe that love is a continuous stream?
443 · Jan 2018
sweetest downfall
acacia Jan 2018
i’ve always read about the dangers of false prophets.
the devil would disguise himself as the topper on a christmas tree,
the icing on the cake, the smell of fresh bread, the warmth of a hug.
and i thought it’d be in something obvious, like in movies or in books.
but it’s in something that seems to be closer to my heart.
the stars, the angel guidance boards, the numbers on doors,
the breaths i take, the stretches i take.
he plants these seeds in our hearts and minds
to get us closer to him, away from Him.

but here i lie in the same bed with a man, (a fleshly being)
who kisses me softly, who whispers all sorts of heresy with love and affection.
he gently begs of me to worship him, and gets jealous of any other god in my life.
a man who has cut the life of something so soft, a man who has prayed to the morning star and his surrounding debris, a man who has a voracious bloodthirst has become my sweetest downfall.
who wouldve guessed
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