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 Feb 2017 Mos
Tammy M Darby
Does your soul writhe in guilt in the depths of the night?
Do you drift through the universe
When sleep gently kisses your deceitful brow?
In a fragmented world
As you carelessly dream
And I silently scream

Wandering idly with little thought of others
Stumbling foolishly from star to star
Closing your eyes to the affliction
Casting glances on hearts afar
In your dreams
Do you hear my screams?

Does your soul tremble with remembrance of words?
In the black of the night?
As I spread my dark wings of vengeance
Ascending fiercely
Into waiting fiery skies
While I dream
And you scream

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 25, 2017
 Feb 2017 Mos
Mysidian Bard
My skies are always
so clearly blue when they're not
obscured by the night.

I'll let darkness in
if you promise to fill it
with endless starlight.
 Feb 2017 Mos
Mysidian Bard
We both read our scripts,
but we're not on the same page.
You and I are just actors
who treat life as the stage.

We rehearse our lines,
but they're not what we mean,
for once lets break character
and call cut on this scene.

We could steal the show
if we rewrite the play
and end the charade
of this macabre matinee.

We've reached the finale,
there's no encore after all.
This is our shot,
our last curtain call.
 Feb 2017 Mos
Logan Gabriel
Did you know?
I have vines growing around my ribs now.
A tree growing in my guts where I used to hold galaxies.
Churning stardust catching between teeth,
Painting my lips.
Seeping out of my skin and into the sink.

I am a book of metaphors and paradox.
I am nothing at all.
I speak you fair with a liars tongue,
All made of silver and moondust.
Easy words.

I am celestial,
And though your starstuff still makes me sick in the mornings,
Picking your shine from my teeth
All your refuse still inside me wretched into the sink.
Though my limbs are scarred with an effort to see my own galaxies
I am through obsessing over celestial souls.

Too many boys and girls with stars in their eyes
Or Saturn's rings around their fingers
Have caught me with lunar promises and magic fallen from careless lips
Like meteor showers.
I'm rid of my stars.

Now I've been planting flowers in my ribs
The vines mingle with a web of forget-me-nots and bleeding hearts
Lavender buds sprouting from old scars
I pass the 3 am itch off as them growing
Learn to ignore it.
 Feb 2017 Mos
Mysidian Bard
Astral architecture hangs on the balance of my once fragile mind, now unbound and open to the potential of the Penrose Stairs that I climb. Infinity, I thought, was an innate idea man was not meant to understand, because if the universe is in fact infinite, into what does it expand?

Standing at the precipice of epiphany, teetering at the very cusp of clarity, it came to me in a monumental moment of sibylline singularity:

It expands into itself.

The thought was too profound to perceive, too ravenous to be satiated. Could this be at long last, the answer for which I have waited?

I realized that consciousness operates under a similar uniformity: the brain won't outgrow the head, but the mind will outgrow the body, and our echoes will radiate across the endlessness of existence, for all our forgotten frequencies are oblivious to the concept of distance.

We are all limitless beneath the veil of this perceived reality,
but only there are we human, and only then are we free.
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