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Hannah A Sep 2016
In the face of infinity, I stumbled to an instigator.
I must have known how furtive the ****** dotard was.
An epidemic stereotype would barely drawl an insurgent.
The tremendous vilification acurred.
Here comes the futile virtuoso with his interminable intransigence.
The vivacity dynamic banality of an unconscious programmed robot.
Hannah A May 2016
Take me out on a non realistic trip
detach me from my  inner self
when they threw me out on the island
I didn't miss my land
I didn't miss my people
I gazed on the freezing moon
I watched the boat coming and going
but I did not beg them to
take me back to the city
where the look in everyone's eyes
is just speaking of hatred
when you look into their eyes
and all you feel is hate from a person
maybe they aren't real
maybe I am not just what I think I am
if this isn't real then I'm just an idea
in someone else's brain
you don't get the feeling when you're trapped
you burn like fire in the deserts of Egypt
you crawl on your feet
crumble and fall like a stone
but you're nothing like a rolling stone
let the sun touch you until you sweat
let the forest's parasites live inside your hair
a meteor was crossing the sky
I looked into your eyes
and I saw the sparkles in your eyes
how it dilates slowly with the breeze.
Hannah A Apr 2016
Not like this.

the path you stumbled for,
left you for some footsteps of a goddess
that we never were sure of her existence.

He left you on the road
oh, beautiful landscape of all
such green trees, such brown leaves.
Do you wonder how I wonder?
wanderlust, collecting dust
of the wasted decades we had
of an item we never truly got to reckon it's form
I do not believe in time
it does not exist
break all hour glasses done.
Hannah A Apr 2016
It is life that is shooting at me from the underground,
the souls begging for forgiveness
all comas exposed
until they haunt you
burn you out alive
in a ring of fire
in a countless sky
such breathless world we know,
we don't know about.
Hannah A Apr 2016
Hopeless desires
in a daydream nation
of drunk stars
and messed up scars
on each neck and for wrist
aching by, each and every minute
within a corner, not walking
not talking, with starry eyes.

— The End —