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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 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
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.
acacia May 27
It's all now; it's all gone (the Freesia's have now wilted);
the stars won't shine on me tonight,
they will shine on the only girl you are preying for/
the only girls you would rather touch tonight;

the Sun revolves around every promise you've broken --
it has come to light.

The moonbeam gently leads me to see the Swallow, quaking briars, browning forest fires.

The moonbeam gently leads me to see
where I have to swallow my own disillusions
                              because it is "natural",
it is "human nature",
            and I can not and will not stomach this.

I will not stomach this --
why are you doing this to me?

from Sahas' diary --

You = every human on earth.
They/I/We = the deities who rule over the humans
acacia Jul 26
What are you? All you are is blatantly morbid with a subtle hint of fidelity, just like my wretched citrine.

What am I? All I am is whisked and blended Uranian, Neptunian, and Saturnian beauty—that is all.
I don't mean to compare or make you seem like you are just a speck in reality, you are much more than we know, more than God himself realizes (implying you are God*)

(*implying we all are God)


Seth and Rosaline, this is for Seth and Rosaline.
acacia Sep 2016
Why is this man so beautiful
from his head to his toes?
How can someone look so attractive and
tempt me more than sin and the world itself?

How can a smile be so lively?
How can eyes be so hypnotizing?
A sky of clear blue with gray clouds
lie within those limbal rings.

A jaw so sharp, a nose with a point,
and brows straight and furrowed;
lips so soft, so red
but only in my dreams could I feel them.
obviously someone has my heart
acacia 5d
let me bask in your light,for you are higher than me right now, since we are from the same light, but today and all of my years before, you shine heavenly, you shine brightly
you beam this all encompassing cacophony of electric blue and sense-depriving white;
and i want to be this,
i pray to you for you are above me and you give me this light
i pray to you, my baby boy, for you are my guide and my love, please know I am your Mary
i pray to you because you are a close source of divine light, a close river of pure water, and i am experiencing the same divinity you encompass every time i meditate on you,
the same hydration you receive from the elixir of knowledge every time i meditate on you and the origins we share
every time i cry tears of overwhelming joy,
each time i join myself with the capacity of linearity and am on the edge of the coarse shores of Boundary and Limit, I can step my foot inside the ocean to feel the water, I will not grab or kick the water, I will immerse myself in the water,
I will be in the water

we are no buoys in the water; to not be the anchor and sink in the water, but do dissolve us farther from matter—now us, the drops, become indistinguishable from the sea
rough draft and a one take, didn’t edit really

just wrote... man really is closer to god when he faces the sea...
acacia Apr 2017

It’s two in the afternoon
and I’m nodding my head to a song
that sounds like sitting on a bench
in a park full of cherry blossoms
while you seem to be growing onto
a coming of age.
And there are angels watching over me
from different angles; even though I forget,
they remember that beauty is subjective
and my visuals will be more than a platonic guide
and more of an erotica and a love story
to a different pair of eyes.


It’s now two in the morning
and I’m swaying to a song
that reminds me of a humid night
that asks for forgiveness because
it chokes you of air.
It’s a dream of God sending guardian angels
to lull you to a slumber sleep
and awaken you to an early morning.
They whisper the language of the Heavens
and as they speak in tongues,
they caress each and every golden strand
on your head.
Ar hyd y nos.
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.
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.
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
acacia Apr 2017
bathing in the sun’s glow, sleeping on the moon’s side;
your ocean eyes have flecks of four leaf clovers in them
and your sable strands are disheveled
and i’ve never wanted to kiss you more than i do now
as i eye the beauty mark on the left side above your lip.
you keep me sane, you make me feel everything at once
and it’s nice, the nice kind of affection.
something that’s a little softer; makes my dreams reality
and keeps me grounded.
it’s a new kind of feel --
makes me crave your touch to the point where i need to feel your lips
and stroke every strand on your fair head.
acacia May 2017
soft the drowsy hours stay creeping,
and when we finally dream of a dream
with somber flowers and tall trees that don’t wilt.

baby soft clouds and you, my love,
a babe of wonder, sleep protected and peacefully
all through the night.
in your dreams, you’re thoroughly healing,
visions of passions lightly unraveling.
your crazy is my revealing;

through the towers i am
gently sweeping, all through the night.
inspired by ar hyd y nos
acacia Jul 18
way over it: over the shape of air: done grasping into short strands: never flinging into shallow depths: a fly on your wall
but it's too plain to see
acacia Dec 2017
the sky was a gentle sleepy blue, and the sun was settling down. the trees swayed, the squirrels yawned, and the birds went back home. the dying, snow covered grass felt the magic escape our feet every time we stepped. the bench felt our desire once we sat.

the little bugs flying above spied on us, and so did the people watching from the planes. the playground listened in on our conversation, and so did the children walking by with their dogs, hats and scarves.

we were attentive to the earth’s rotation, listening for her call; for nature’s voice.

the wind wanted us closer, so she sent a chilly gust our way. we got closer.

the sun wanted us to feel each other more, so he closed his curtains. we felt each other.

his hands were cold so he wanted to warm them up inside of my shirt, on my skin. i let him.

he has the kind of skin that doesn’t show the blood rushing to his cheeks. the dewy kind, the really olive kind. it isn’t rough, it’s soft. even his ****** hair was soft. his face was mature, yet dipped in boyish charm. maybe it was his dimples that gave him his slight immaturity, or his wide dirt colored eyes. his eyes (for some of the year) had this overwhelming jollity that twinkled with naught and trouble.

i lifted my legs onto his, and his hand traveled to the back of my neck. he said he was cold, yet all i felt was his warmth; saturated with his heat, with the setting sun’s heat.

the sky was a heavy indigo, and the sun was no more. the moon was now hanging. she cooed tender songs into the night, illuminating his glow and emphasizing the nip. she soaked him in her glow, his lips now looked glossed. his eyes were narrowed and his pupils dilated. we kissed. we broke away.

an endearing moment, and a beautiful start to an evening.
mmm, i’m just really in love.
acacia Jul 11
you were never mine, anyway.
Not in this life. I look up away out the window into the blue sky. I’d be so in love with you, almost lover. And honestly,
was I ever yours? No, not in this life. I look back down at my shoes on the ground.
acacia Aug 15
I said a prayer, did it for you
I repeat my prayers, I pray to you
I said my prayer, I prayed through you
I say a prayer, end it with you
*ended the prayer with you

DRAFT #829483
acacia Aug 21
Talking through the walls, whispering endearing acts of heresy;
(for the most holy things are said in secret)
he's tricking and flipping the air around,
but will his gales blow stronger than the Sun's fire burns?

Who could be satisfied with clovers of their own?
I want clovers of yours, and yours: but I must not let this greed take root in my soil.
For if it is fertilized, I will have to uproot my whole skin—
truth is always becoming, truth would look nice on my body
(to become a spiritual young woman, I must make my mind like I make my bed, I must cleanse my heart as I cleanse my plates—I must, so to present my body as the ultimate sacrifice)— shedding the old, and the new glistens like moistened lips.
"Just a vehicle," I whisper to myself, looking into the window out my bedroom.

Ceiling is bright blue, decorated with moving clouds and stars: it is night and day in my land.
acacia Jul 2017
Eyes closed,
it's a bit comforting to see her with her eyes closed.
Looking for God,
with her eyes closed she'll never see Him but she will feel Him.
Feel Him in the deepest depths of her kidneys.
Poetry runs through her veins
and you want to protect this beauty,
with curls swaying softly in the breeze, in the summer breeze,
the cool summer breeze.
You touch her with your tongue, your pretty pink tongue,
and you say she tastes like whipped cream on top,
raisins you are chewing, soda you are sipping.
And then you tell her that you think she's pretty,
so pretty, she's a gem and she makes you believe in angels
and maybe you believe in a Creator a little bit more.
And you lift her dress up, and you see how she's used and ***** with cute *******.
You clean her up so she is pure and innocent again.
And then you tell her that you think she's pretty,
so pretty, she's a gem and she makes you believe in angels
and maybe you should've worshiped her sooner.
So you take her to the toy store to let her pick out her favorite dolly, her favorite plushy, her favorite blanky, and a binky too.
Then you take her out for ice cream and you hold her hand while you cross the street,
with your pretty hand. She can’t recall the last time she took help from anyone.
Then you give her a set of rules to follow
so she can be a good little girl, your good little girl.
And she cries at night because her father left her and her mother never loved her and she was touched in a way she shouldn't have been
and she doesn't understand why she feels the way she does
and she doesn't understand why these things had to happen to her
but she knows one thing: that she's in love with you, a beautiful ******, a beautiful man who has such lovely hands. Strong hands. Impeccable hands.
So you take her to the bathroom to clean her, but she is still sullied
from the bruises and dirt, and you heal her and you love her back
together, and you teach her the right way to love herself.
Then you tell her that you think she's pretty,
so pretty, she's a gem and she makes you believe in angels
and maybe you should've found her sooner.
(Make her beg for it (for your love)
you want to see her crawl.)
she has problems.
acacia Nov 2018
something here is going to have to go.
maybe it is the look in your eyes                          [you are wrong!]
or maybe it's the fact that you don't wanna let go       [i know you!]
tell me something i haven't heard before.     [don't be mean.]
everyone has the same opinion. you seem to just always want your way.                      [how could you? don't you remember all of the things we've been through? don't you see me standing in your way?]
                      yes, and as i can see, you're still in my **** way.
  [will you please?]
                                             your time is almost over.
     [that's alright.]
is it?
                                        [you should be ashamed.]
                     you don't have to tell anyone.
[no one wants to know, anyway!]
                                  when i die, cry to me at my grave. we'll see if i care then.
                    [you're always thinking about yourself.]
                                       you don't want to trust anyone else.
[don't you want to help me?]
       always thinkin' 'bout yourself.
                          [you don't love me!]
always thinkin' 'bout yourself.
more inspiration, the strokes.
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.
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 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.
acacia Mar 2017
I can finish any story with any ending you'd please.
I continued to write about your dark hair and your honeycombed skin,
you were laying on your back on your white sheets.
Your eyes darted towards me as you analyzed every bit of my body.
And you swore you've never seen anyone like me.
I said, "Really?" I couldn't ignore this.
I listen to your songs and you've got me messed up.
acacia May 2017
“anything for my little acacia,”
“anything for you, my dear,”
acacia Apr 2018
neck hung low, black necklace strap laced around tan hide;
post-core playing from another room.
“i’d end my days with you in a hail of bullets,”
face nuzzled into my tendrils draping near my ears,
lashes tickling my collarbone.
“i'm trying, i'm trying”
with a hard drive full of suggestions,
from monoxide to nooses to overdosing to jumping.
“to let you know just how much you mean to me,”
i’m contained in warm brown eyes, warm milk comforting with honey added --
you kissed me. so that’s really what your lips feel like.
“as days fade and nights grow, and we go cold,”
blue veins and sore skin pleads me to stay.
i will stay.
“this time, I mean it, i'll let you know how much you mean”
acacia Aug 10
I don't like ******
I don't like (hidden) charms
I don't like hemmelig gestures
I don't like flick of the tongue

I cannot appreciate your beauty, it is not a talent
I cannot allow myself to faun over does who turn yellow like my lawn
Beauty is empty
Beauty is nothing at all
All you pretty girls, you seem like nothing at all
Don't bat your eyelashes
Don't color your cheeks
Don't throw on your new scarlet shoes
Don't let yourself fall into the week

You boys stay away from me
Your harrowing eyes rest beneath my leaking pipes
You pretty boys will never go for **** things like I
Sometimes it is you who tempt me
With you, boys, I would wish to go far
But take away your rotten dreams
Place them, from me, real real real real far

Take your tawny shoulders (take your blue shatter)
Take your conditional romance (take your charred bouquet)
Take your pre-set curls (take your square, veiny hands)
Take your petal heart (take your eyes from me)

I do not want (wo)man-kind (or the like)
I do not want you
Sometimes I wish to erase you from my palmistry
What is a being like me to do?

Charge me again, taxation, I rise from the smoke
Destroy all my golden photos
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Look away from me
Yes, look away from me

Giggling, bubbling, hysteria
Girlish, boyish beams
How do you stand this?
Why do you stand this?
I will not stand this
Look away from me
by Friar Sonya (my character)

she doesnt like these things
acacia Jul 12
Everything arrives, everything fades; everything wanes, everything waxes; it all climaxes eventually only to decline.
Nothing stays the same, nothing is stagnate.
How can I try to achieve a still, immobile mind if everything is
in action? Or is the aspect of being motionless a form of mobility?
The bodies, air, clouds, stars, planets, you, I, we, omnia. Change, growth, wave, tide, death, birth, move, spin, twirl, back, forth, this side, that side. Never idle. Never still.
Loops, chains, cycles, ring, rotation. Sequence. Saturn always returns.
Is this the point in our liberation? Abolition from the clamor, from the static, from the busy, from the passerby. Freedom within our ability to calm our Self, ability to cease ourselves in an unceasing land of ocean-noise.
acacia Jul 8
there's no heaven or hell in outer space
and it's hard to live
we share plants and animals
and the sea with the earth, yet we both have never seemed so lonely
now with them out of our way,
our dreams can finally come true
acacia Sep 10
I haven't seen you in a while; did you know today I wanted to be pink? Today I wanted to dress up in purple darkness (like the juice we drink in the dawn and dusk to commemorate the fertile groves between your mother's—that is I—legs) that'd stain every shoe you'd wear. You could sip orange juice while I dance all over the mirror,

the mirror, the mirror sees you in the way I'd want to: like the water—from every angle—like an angel you've been, even when my own plasma splashed your anatomy—from every view of that frimple in your eye, of the crinkle in your cheek, of the small mark above your nose.

My baby boy, conditionally, we are suppressing these memories: the memory of you no longer loving me. What is a mother going to do? Her baby bird has broken his farthest-right-wing; the dapper dauphin desires to fly even when he can tweet no longer. Can he even bring the petals to the celebration?

So because of this I cry and pray and grovel in the coarse sand while dusting my feathers; the same bath you used to sit in with I, smiling when I’d brush the hard Earth from your tiny head. Take your leaves and bring them to the nest:

feed me with words, I’ll feed you endorphins: my little bird, just let me die, take my note to Suicide—your phermones are all I need, I inhale them furiously. And we cry and we sigh to the God (inside us) above us, and we beg It to bless us with soft vapor that swallows us like the Swallow does; cuneiform scribes as the whispers form to you: bring me luck for my own return—I want my arc; I need rays to hit me with the brightest contingent beam. Poisoning you and not me, so I wouldn’t have to go on without you by choice.
I will grade the essay about the light inside of you, you present on the light inside of Me, me inside of You;

this started as an automatic writing session but then I started to expand on "My soul is maternal like a native country"

So this is automatic turned sequel. . . this doesn't have any direct muse, just an image of my head of a mom and a son and her husband
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 Dec 2017
he always goes back to this song
that sounds like moonlight.
it sounds like he's basking in the moon's
soaked glow, saturated in moonshine.
sparkling pearl beads slide down
his face as he strums and picks
like there's no tomorrow while
his silhouette stays indelible in my memory.
i dance in my lilac slip while he struggles
to find his own harmony and he shuts it down.
i wrote this a bit before about ryan, an awkward ex of mine. if anything, ill always remember his love for the bass. and the way his playing helped me sleep.
acacia Mar 2017
He puts so much gentle thought
and ****** care into the way he
strums and picks;
he looks with such a determination
and with such a drive.
He moves towards his goal so slowly,
that he can’t keep up.
His love lies within its strings
and his pride within its sound.
He taps his foot to the beat,
he bites his lower lip from the tension.
He closes his eyes so he can
feel the music fill his empty carcass;
he lifts his head with dignity as he
feels it rock him
and places him into a trance
which he cannot escape.
what good do your words do if they can't understand you?
acacia Sep 2017
don't scare me
terrify me

the way they cross their legs
and the way they bite their lips

make me feel safe
violate me

the way they flip their hair
and the way they give their stare

hold me in their arms
chew at my heart

the way they touch themselves,
and the way they put on stockings

they make me sleepy
tempt me to sin
boys dont scare me
acacia Aug 30
For this I cannot have you: you never look at me.
I can make a movie—you’d never watch me.
Spinning out of orbit, faster than you can see.
Faster in my pointe shoes, fast enough for me.
Spinning out of orbit—no one ever mattered really.
acacia Apr 2018
i saw her across the room, hair bouncing and hair flowing.
eyes big like moons, shining bright like suns; yet eyelids drooping like curtains -- closing blinds.
mouth soft and ready, looking to be worshipped.

she moves her voice.
it seems to be dancing all the time.

yeah, her voice makes me weak to my knees -- my ears even twitch.
hope she keeps singing (for me), keeps talking (to me).
you know what, i don’t care if it’s to me and for me, long as she never quiets down.

but since i am imperfect, so now and then i miss it;
i don’t get to hear it. it makes me cry.
even i wish i didn’t have to be so ignorant to the aphrodisiac bundled like a pearl in her mouth.
(forming in her vocal chords and rising onto those taste buds, attaching)

her body talks,
it seems to be saying hello to me.

hearing it makes me feel crazy; i’m trying to not let anyone hear me talk back to her hips.
she doesn’t think i’m crazy, though.
she feels almost flattered by my assertion (my desperation), and she likes my unintended oblivion (pain).
she wants my childish, meek love.

time after time, i might hear something calling me.
i’ll be asleep, sleeping soundly because my baby’s next to me.
but when i hear her calling me, when i hear her call me and i realize it’s on my baby.
it makes me lose my mind. it makes bread stale; makes water carbonated.
this is my life: loving her soul and loving her body.
not hearing moans from her small mouth but from that pretty pink petal soft bloom,
from those quivering thighs.
hydrated and blossomed, waiting for me to cultivate and deflower (again and again),
to consume, to be the bee that absorbs nectar and stings.

too perfect; a perfection that needed to be violated.
the earth is angry at my thoughts of her;
mother doesn’t like the way i show her my love,
the way i denature this nature;
the way i pinch the supple skin, the honeysuckle sweet supple skin.
the soft strands that get caught in my hands, but slip through my fingers.
she loves it when i hit her (i swear she does, she is so glad).

you know, she is ready for me to give her what she was missing during those workdays.
she’ll make me lose my mind with that look she’s giving me.
keep that soap running down her back, keep that water running hot.
i don’t care if it burns. why? because she’s making me lose my mind
with those eyes.
from his perspective
acacia Jul 8
i saw her across the room, hair bouncing and hair flowing
eyes big like moons, shining bright like suns; yet eyelids drooping like curtains -- closing blinds
mouth soft and ready, looking to be worshipped

she moves her voice
it's dancing all the time

her voice makes me weak to my knees -- my ears even twitch
hope she keeps singing (for me), keeps talking (to me)
i don’t care if it’s not to me and not for me, long as she never quiets down

but since i am imperfect, now and then i miss it
i don’t get to hear it, it makes me cry

Even I wish I didn’t have to be so ignorant to the aphrodisiac bundled like a pearl in her mouth
(Forming in her vocal chords and rising onto those taste buds, attaching)

her body talks, and i listen
it says hello and giggles at me

hearing it makes me feel crazy; i’m trying to not let anyone hear me talk back to her hips
she doesn’t think i’m crazy, though
she feels almost flattered by my assertion (my desperation), and she likes my unintended oblivion (pain)
she wants my childish, meek love

time after time, i might hear something calling me
i’ll be asleep, sleeping soundly because my baby’s next to me
but when i hear her calling me, when i hear her call me and i realize it’s on my baby
it makes me lose my mind. it makes bread stale
this is my life: loving her soul and loving her body
not hearing moans from her small mouth but from that pretty pink petal soft bloom
from those quivering thighs
hydrated and blossomed, waiting for me to cultivate and deflower (again and again)
to consume, to be the bee that absorbs nectar and stings

too perfect; a perfection that needed to be violated

the earth is angry at my thoughts of her
mother doesn’t like the way i show her my love
the way i denature this nature; the way i pinch the supple skin, the honeysuckle sweet supple skin
the soft strands that get caught in my hands, but slip through my fingers

she loves it when i hit her (i swear she does, she is so glad)

you know, she is ready for me to give her what she was missing during those workdays
she’ll make me lose my mind with that look she’s giving me
keep that soap running down her back, keep that water running hot
i don’t care if it burns. why? because she’s making me lose my mind
with those eyes

poem still applies
acacia Jul 12
Her yarn sings to me, wrapping around me like I am the knitting needle. I am stuck, happily stuck, between oblivion, the short cues, the seam ripper. Taking my dreams, weaving them with things, embroider me like I’m in a catalogue

The yarn stretches out, luring me more, deeper and deeper into her knitted womb: soft, fuzzy peach and a fleshy-toned pink escapes from the room, and leaches into here

Every time I look up through the soft exits of light, into her smooth-pebbled eyes, I see what she’s thinking of
acacia May 19
I want to ride his waves,
I want to light His flames.
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
acacia Mar 2017
i haven't felt this low
over brass
and a woodwind
and i wish i could blow
and play like i used to
acacia Feb 2018
the girls with porcelain smooth skin,
chestnut flowing locks,
rosy cheeks,
nutty eyes.

the thin neck and valleys indenting,
small pelvis and tight ****.

i just want to bleach my skin;
i want to cut her hair off and sew every strand into my bad little head.

smaller hands, dainty fingers, a heart that beats purely, doe angel eyes.
a nose that’s small and round.
cherry lips, bubblegum tongue,
blowing bubbles into your *******.

just to walk off this roof; i smell something nice.
the ignorance in suicide,
the bliss of suicide,
the bliss of ignorance.

but isn’t it so sweet? gravity is keeping us together, our gravity is holding us like glue.
you said you’d write about it, and the promises of needing the lung inside of me.

i’ll cry to the moon because i wasn’t blessed
with her beauty;
i’ll cut at my wrists because i was born into a shade no one wants to see --
darker than night, eyes dark like backwoods,
a ***** that seems to be as tight as the hole i’m digging; you’re stuck.

my jealousy pours into cereal and it’s curdled,
it’s spoiled. collapsed veins, sunken eyes,
red white yolks; enlarged pupils only when i look at you.

see the flowers that bloom from her,
taste the nectar that blooms from her.
(pink petals, cotton candy,
marshmallow soft, skin tight.)
a dying star, a woven basket,
drop your sword into her.

“why do you act like you don’t want it?” you ask.
and i wonder it for a minute, but i think it’s just because
i like the thought of being so irresistible that when i say no
you have to keep going, you insist.

gloomy skies, the rain falls harder as the sun drifts to sleep.
i open my window to let the droplets come inside,
my sill is wet.
i wrote a lot and didnt really look through this... i just wrote it 2 write it! and 2 let out feelings! : ' ) but this is part of somethin' bigger im putting together... so stay in tune!!!!!!
acacia Mar 2017
suddenly, i felt week
and my mind began to wonder
what the outside world
didn’t feel like.
it didn’t feel like a bed,
it didn’t feel like warm covers
that engulf you.
it didn’t feel like the weakness
that flooded your being.
the outside world was happy
and i am sad. i am sad and i am
anxious and i am down and i am weak.
i will cry a thousand tears
and no one will know why
and no one will understand how.
but it’s alright and it’s okay,
i’m used to it anyway.
acacia Jun 2018
you might be dreaming: you’re on a beach in the sand on your birthday, making castles for your princess to live in (me).
you say i’m so small i could fit inside your tiny handmade castles.

august: blue skies, no clouds; orange sun tans your pale skin. extremities burn with the sand.
it’s never about what you want.

by the seaside washing our worries away --
by the sea, all worries wash away.

in this august:
lashes diffusing sunshine, sunlight.
rays of happiness seep into shells and soak in grains; some brush it off, some brush it off.
acacia Nov 2018
doug yule's melody webs its way into the entirety of these halls,
and the rain shadows it while the leaves on the trees resembles a forest
unfinished drafts 3
acacia May 2018
i don't know what to do about it;
it's ringing louder than before.
your smell is getting overwhelming,
but i find so much comfort in it.

you still bring the world to life,
and you still help me breathe but
somehow i still find myself drowning in the black sea.

it's my subconscious talking again.
it's saying nonsense.
the trees are swaying softly;
my grass is growing green.

the birds sing and the sky is blue,
but the sun seems too bright today but
the rain makes me so sad.
i can't be in the sun, you can see me.

i can't stand to be in the center where
everything is open but i know the eyes aren't all on me --
i dont think i can stand to be where you don't see me.
inspired by francis forever and constant nonsense in my head
acacia Jul 26
skittish furling
turning, fumbling swagger
throughout hallways guiding clammer
2 4 6 8 2
will get to class on time one day
acacia Sep 20
I will force my curves into word-induced landscapes and hidden meditation with my pashmina hiding my head,

the direction this originates matters none, for it will result in healing the wound of duality, healing the wound of It All Inside Me—

if originates from riposte, conceit, or because of the rainy day, it matters none, the Truth will filter through—it will increase and decrease into the Swallow, like my chest underneath this pale nightgown—

this nightgown is sheer, acquiescent to my body secretly revealed under,

this nightgown is slightly glowing under moonlight peering in from the window, the afterglow travels from ethers of yore to greet me, bringing jewellike rocks from asteroids with them,

(the rocks are crushed into fine powders then drizzled over me to glint my form)

the moon seemed to give the same droplets the morning did,

and the cheeks on my bottom bedewed, modest moisture clinging this nightgown to my body
But I knew it couldn't last 'til Summer's end; now give me back all the clothes you borrowed.
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