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CGW Jan 16
Train filled my head.
Oh, these flashbacks
Invading by train into the empty spaces
Of my head.
Close,
Just close my eyes and let flashbacks set in.
There is nothing
that I can't remember.
Can't forget a face whose face will never meet with mine again.
Thunderbolts in my dreams.
In my dreams.
Never seen a warhorse in my dreams, just the sound of dying men and gun smoke.
Never seen a world so real, I don't know if I'm dead or not.
Through the ashes of my dreams I see the gunner hold my reflection hostage.
Train filled my head.
Filled my head.
When the bombs came down,
We let looss.
Some of us broke like tea-pots.
Some of us blew away into ash.
Those who survived were sung to sleep with machine guns.
When all was over
Through musky smell of war ruble
The humans crawled through large puddles of human meat.

That was so long ago, I've grown older and some would say wiser but can't see why I should be entitled to assume that I am not already dead.
Oh,
These flashbacks invading by train into the empty spaces of my head.
Do I climb aboard or just wave to all those lonely souls?
Am I just a runaway train?
Am I just a runaway train?
Inspired by pink floyd and Jose Gonzalez.
CGW Nov 2018
Since the existence of time the universe has strived to purify into light.

Long has the dark existed but in spectrum of time the dark is only a blink in the eye of light.
Beyond this world is a world of holy conscieness.

The great ohm of the universe floods through space and time persevering the very idea of existence itself.

Though time is restrained to the conformations of the third dimension, with the constant existence of infinite dimensions time becomes an illusion.

Our bodys conformed of star dust rest peacefully waiting for something.
We wait for something to come a long to save us from our imperfections.
We are all just one star waiting to become a supar nova.

In another dimension we've already reached the edge of the universe.
CGW Nov 2018
This is where we belong.
Behind the windows.
Broken and incapable of functioning.
Our washed out white static filling up space.

Interlude.

Reverse repeat into over the rainbow.
Rain spilling backwards into the clouds.

Something isn't right.
Counting sheep by sevens.

Constant chaos,
I think there's some thing
Off.

Blood on the walls.
Axe lodged in the skull.

People are crazy.
People are crazy.
We are
Crazy.

In the end we all fall down
We all die.
This is where we belong.
  Nov 2018 CGW
Hanna Jordan
The truth is,
my heart still flutters with
just the sight of you.
The truth is,
every time the words "I love you"
threaten to escape my lips
the lump in my throat grows to
the size of a softball that I can't swallow.
The truth is,
I get a tingly feeling throughout my
whole body every time you surprise me
with the littlest things that I love dearly.
The truth is,
watching your chest rise and fall
with every breath you take
as your legs are intertwined
with mine makes everything worth it.
The truth is,
the sound of your raspy morning voice
whispering "good morning" to me
still gives me chills.
The truth is,
I guess I'm sort of in love with you
but since I could never say any of this
out loud,
this poem is for *you.
CGW Nov 2018
Breathlessly collapsing into oneself.
These endless possibilities inspiring a reaction of enlightenment within oneself.

A series of worping light into that which yields the ability to shift time lines like shifting gears on a bike.

Turn right on Death lane.

So Death looked into the soul and set two doves into the eyes.
They circled each other: one white, one black.

Yin and yang.

Then Death drew his sythe and bled the doves into the eyes.
The blood soaked the eyes and the first mortal human arrived at the gates of this mortal Earth ready for a new chapter in the never ending prophecy.

The prophecy of the universe.
CGW Nov 2018
Death came down from the clouds.
So quietly.
So very softly.
He landed like a dragonfly on a flower.

Death is all of us.
Is in all of us.

I cried by your side as your breath blew away.
So now I'll wait for what feels like an eternity to be back with you.

The more I push away Death the harder he pushes back.
In the end we all die.

We all fall victim to the unavoidable.
Death is already here just look in the mirror.

We are Death.
We are the thing we fear.
We are what we strive not to be.
We are death.

Inescapable.
Undeniable.
Real.
Death.
RIP Smudge. My sweet kitten Smudge passed today from FIP.
CGW Nov 2018
Taylored pockets fit for the poor.
Fit for helpless men wandering lonely and lost.
To shove away nostalgia.
Incompetent loose bodys trailing willfully into two worlds.
One remembered.
One forgotten.
Spitting dust at winter.
This is Deaths sunset.
But in the end even Death him self will perish.
Buried in bones.
Buried in blood as far as an eye can see.
Swimming in an ocean of ice
That liquidates into darkness.
To create a fallout ocean.
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