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Kvothe Apr 13
A clipped voice,
slips noise-
lessly
into
the fray.

Yellow
and shaky.
Bland, I know.
I hate to
Say.

Butterfly
in a storm,
normally deep.
I crack,
lacking wingspan.

Headcave retreat.
Feet save
my mouth.
Because the wrong
thing ran.
How public speaking feels
Kvothe Apr 13
Delirious morn
Scornful of the rising sun
Someone, water, please
Kvothe Apr 13
You are tea,
serene in your surroundings.

                                                               ­                                        I am coffee,
                                                                ­           attention always bounding.

Your colour milkish pale,
creamy optimism.

                                                               ­                              I am taken black,
                                                                ­                                bitter cynicism.


Two sugars,
to match your disposition.

                                                               ­                                     None for me,
                                                             ­       I'll maintain my grim affliction.


                                               We differ so much,
                                                     it's obscene.
                                                  
     ­                                              But in the end
                                               we're both caffeine.
Repost of an old one
Kvothe Apr 12
An eldritch aura permeates
a palace, long forgotten.
I fell. Which may illuminate
my place amongst the rotten.

How long these ruins slept, I fear's
a desert measured aeon,
for sand has creep'd and crept in here,
a structure so protean.

This place it whispers death and dust,
a sister to the barrow.
I must escape this depth. I must!
These halls are much too narrow.

The stench of age, it fills the air,
with hints of green and purple.
Appendages, they slither there,
My thoughts they doth encircle.

A mutter on the wind calls me,
it sends my digits lame.
Fluttered eyes, where two should be,
five globules cry my name.

That fickle murmor, foe at first,
but now I know my error.
He tickles thoughts and quenches thirst.
Come, how could it sow terror?

All is well, I've found a friend,
His hug is warm and tight.
His many arms they do not end,
but wriggle, kiss, and bite.
Lovecraft inspired. I'm not sure how clear the story is. Guy gets lost in ruins. Meets some ancient creature. Creature takes over his mind, setting him at ease, only to eat him.
Kvothe Apr 12
The gutter's
slick with
spluttered sick.
My mouth,
an urn.

I turn to
the *****
beside me.

"Got a tab
I can lend?"

He bends,
with
pretend
disgust:

"You must
be ******."

Treat him
to a cheeky
smile,
while he
proffers up,
a smoke
to shut
my trucker teeth.

The chill of regret
climbs
my spine.
Or maybe
it's the wind.

With tab end
rammed in,
I begin
to bask
in the spin
of an "Open" sign's
light.

But
the neon
does not
disperse
the shadows
on my soul.

Old habits are
prone to flair.

"This is the last one,
I swear."
Tab=cigarette in North East England, just to be clear.
Kvothe Apr 12
A thunderclap.
Rain follows.
A sound like rot
slaps from your hollow chest.

Commuters meerkat,
as you challenge
the Silence.
Prunes for faces,
fleeing you.
Peeling from your presence.

Does it betray you?
An unspoken wall.

I hope you washed your hands.
Kvothe Apr 10
I do not mean to flatter, when
I say you are the moon.

Your existence lies so distant,
Yet in my sight you loom.

A tide I am to your expanse,
you push and pull my heart.

Though years it's been since we did speak,
your smile tears me apart.

A sun you've found, to orbit now,
perhaps it's for the best.

Some lips, I hope, will eclipse yours,
till then my soul won't rest.
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