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 Jun 2015 Connor Widener
Solaces
Deeper and deeper I go.. Into my mind I see the machines trying to know what life is..  I go deeper and see Dragons flying among the stars..  I go deeper and see Stardivers trying to save the universe..  I go deeper and see myself riding a lightcycle through the Tao nebula...  I go deeper and see a shadow plain full of dark life that is being visited by creatures made of light..   I go deeper and see a God teach their young how to build a galaxy.. I go deeper and see a cloud of all colors emit lightning bolts of all colors in the night sky..  I go deeper and discover all this is happening just inside my mind..  I can only imagine what is beyond that my mind has not yet thought of..  And when I do think it, will it be true somewhere somehow? Its as if all of our wishes never do happen here.. But they do happen elsewhere..  My thoughts have creation.. Thus a wish must have some form of energy in and of itself..   I then find out that I have not gone deep at all.. This is the shallow part of my thought ocean..  And I can't wait to venture deeper!
Walk the shoals with me...  Together we soon swim and dive..
Should I tear myself
To pieces and glue myself
Together to look like
A piece of art the world
Would rather have seen?
Why is it that the world tells us to be "unique" but then criticizes us when we don't "do it right"?
He loved with the cruelty of nature
growing like ivy on my heart;
I'd cut him away but he'd only return

He nestled in my branches
making a home out of my rotting shell,
forgetting home is where the heart is

He said "destruction was a form of beauty"
So he pretended to be reborn a hurricane
Firing open doors better left closed in his wake

At times, it was better to hide from him
Wait out the storm and pretend
everything was perfectly alright

Then when it was all over
He'd kiss my wounds,
grow flowers from my dying veins

But not so long after they would wilt
because even the sweetest of things
couldn't survive within our own toxicity.
© copyright
My mind keeps pictures of you up on its walls
                            again
                         ­         and again
I find my thoughts drifting down that river of memory
orbiting around you, like forces of gravity drawn
to the idea of us (if there even is an us)

If I could then I’d lock you outside my brain, leave you out there to rot
in the abyss, where your words couldn't penetrate me
and your lips that work like anesthesia forbidden to numb me again

I won't do you the injustice of romanticizing your imperfections
You're no nebular, you're a black hole, a gaping flaw in creation
Your eyes that held millenniums of history, now hold me no future

You made me forget what it feels to have stability
To not walk out of a room and forget why I left
You make me want to shred the skin you touched
Like a reptile, to become reborn, purified from my past.

There never were any butterflies in your stomach, only parasites
but you fed them to me readily like a disease

So no, I won’t dedicate you another love poem
                 no I want (deserve) better
This isn't what love should be
I’ll write you a poem where the words convulse on the page
and you’ll forget to read it (you always do)
© copyright
There was an old person of Ware,
Who rode on the back of a bear:
When they ask'd,--'Does it trot?'--
He said 'Certainly not!
He's a Moppsikon Floppsikon bear!'
My life was black and white
A colorless canvas that stood barren
Color was never essential
It was never a necessity of mine.

Yet somehow in my own dull perception
A dot had formed right in the center
A bright dot to say the least...

A peculiar thing I had never seen before
It grew slowly, little by little
A storm of color emerged with each inch
Brown, Yellow, Blue, Purple...
So many different colors

My canvas was no longer colorless
In fact it was the complete opposite.
It was not plain and it was not normal
It was now a work of art.

People gawked at its odd style
Praised it for its unusual strokes
A bizarre spectacle to most
And a quite unexpected transformation for me...

"Who painted this strange piece?"
Before I knew it people were staring at me.
Puzzling eyes that clapped in my direction

"Congratulations on your success"
Words that made me realize I was the painter
I was the one holding the brush
The "******" who painted my own path
The one who put color into my life

"Sign the painting" They all cheered
But now that I know I'm the painter
My work of art is not finished yet
I have unfinished business in my life

I cannot quit now.
Knowing that I still haven't found the right colors
The right mix of red, green or blue to solve my problems
I cannot call this a masterpiece...

My life is still a canvas
But it's not colorless anymore...
Changing your name on my phone was one of the hardest things I had to do
So how do you fall out of love?
Please tell me your secret
Because replacing the love with hate is not what you deserve
Nor is it something that I could perform

It's rebuilding and filling the spaces now there
It's haunting and hypnotic

The lack of words spoken
Not about romance
Not about tea
No longer wanting me in the way I knew

We were together
While forever apart
And we were strangers connected by broken hearts

I burned with a fever
While you held your degree
Friendship over love and *** over drugs
Loving you seems more than enough

To write you in colours that don't exist
And memories that are paid to fade
Isn't this just another stage of human decay?
Skip a little higher
while you can still skip
Run a little faster
while you can still run
Laugh a little louder
while you can still laugh
Smile a little wider
while you can still smile
Eat a little more
while you can still eat
Breathe a little deeper
while you can still breathe
Live a little more
while you can still live
Stand a little further
while you can still stand
to be around the broken
*and not become broken yourself
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