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From a single supernova explosion.
We are stardust.
I am stardust.
Stardust that has become self aware
And learned to question oneself.
Blood, flesh, bones, cells, arteries, veins, brains,
A product of God,
Or the product of a funny little happenstance?
The same as everyone else.
But I like to think I’m different.
Personality?
A conundrum,
Paradox,
Silent,
Stone,
Made of stone,
That is what they tell me I am.
Lost in a garden of graves
I reach for the light
But retreat back into the shadows
When it reaches back.
Speaking in sweet solitude
My heart lies with green
But my body is draped in black.

Quiet, a mystery,
An ignored enigma
Wrapped in Bowie’s melody.
Life in slow motion,
Seen on tattered film reels.
Long nights of insomnia,
Driven by an attraction to the monsters,
Let’s forget my past,
Let’s forget my name,
Let’s forget I’m a coward.

Long hours
With shaking hands
Trying to write a happy poem,
But that simply won’t happen.
That simply won’t happen.
Forgive me for my morbid ways.

Tell us about you,
Tell us the real you,
An assignment to create forced poetry.
Poetry should not be forced,
Poetry should come from the heart,
From my heart does not come my favorite authors, such as Scott Westerfeld,
Nor does my favorite food, sushi, my goals of being a director, or the llama as my favorite animal,
From my heart comes something much darker,
More complex.
I was asked to tell no lies,
And no lies were told.
The truth is all there,
The real me is in plain sight.
It all depends on if you know where to look.

In short, to tell you about me, I am a cube.
I am a rubix cube no one has yet to solve.




(This was a school assignment to write a poem about myself...)
it's 8:19 pm on a friday night
and i'm inside wondering about everything not human
i wonder if butterflies have social calendars
and if any of them are ever left out by their counterparts
or if blades of grass have issues with their parents
and if their father tells them they better straighten up
or else they'll be cut to bits by the lawn mower
or perhaps if the moon has anxiety
over all the little things it illuminates
during the dark hours of the night
maybe the tide feels uneasy
washing away shattered dreams
and long forgotten kisses
that have been shared upon its shores
i wonder if bumblebees really care about anything
other than collecting pollen
or if all they really want
is to come home and let their wings rest
for maybe just a minute
maybe birds care for more than just their children
and finding food and shelter for the day
i wonder if they ever have disputed with each other
or ever look down upon us humans
and wonder why we're leading lives
we don't want to lead
you see i wonder if everything on this earth
that's not a human being
wonders about us
about why we care so much
and perhaps why we care too little
i wonder if they notice the pain that emanates from our hearts
i wonder if they can feel the slow drag in our step
i wonder if they know
that we would rather be anything
other than ourselves
i wonder
 Aug 2013 Lauren Rayne
Akemi
Conscious creature
You opened your eyes
And saw into infinity
Beyond a vast divide

You walked with agitation
Under a circadian sphere
But in slumber lapped upon
A recursive lie turned fear

So you gnawed and you nibbled
You scratched and you split
Without a pause in your malice
Until reality thinned

Until the atmosphere bled
All life, light, and breath
And you were left with closed eyes
And vast emptiness
11:29pm, July 30th 2013

'to dream' or 'sentience is suffering'.

We can imagine things far greater than reality can give. Those unreachable things will blind you to all the beauty in your surroundings.

Inspired by: http://topshelfrecords.bandcamp.com/album/lacuna
anyone who says they
drink for the taste is
a *******
liar
because if I let a demon
take a **** in my mouth
in exchange for forgetting
my aching blood on the
floor
I’d say I drink for the taste too.
 Jul 2013 Lauren Rayne
marina
i don't know the difference between
the words you spill when your drunk
and the words you whisper when sober
anymore, even when you're intoxicated
you're a liar.
you used to tell me the truth all the time, and then only when you were drunk or high, and now...
i bought a cactus
the summer of my
eighteenth birthday

i picked it up from
the local nursery and
cradled it all the way to
my car so that it wouldn't
fall to the concrete

i had only just met the little guy
and i didn't want to lose him the
day i finally got him

it is quite stupid to buy and
name a cactus but
i felt very attached to the small
succulent that occupied the
left corner of my bedside table

it was a cute little cactus with
orange on his top and a long
green stalk with spikes poking out

i felt pretty satisfied because
even looking at this plant
made me smile

taking care of this cactus
gave me something to do
and it kept my mind off of you
for a while

maybe i connected with this plant

maybe i felt like i was the plant

i sure do feel like the plant

trapped

growing

pokey

all adjectives aside i still
am very much addicted to
caring for my little cactus

if it lasts through the summer
then maybe
i can too
 Jul 2013 Lauren Rayne
Powers
Sick
 Jul 2013 Lauren Rayne
Powers
You make me queasy
a constant sea sickness
but I'm not ill
People tend to call this "butterflies"
Im just digusted
there are insects hiding in the most secret parts of me
 Jul 2013 Lauren Rayne
Powers
Colors
 Jul 2013 Lauren Rayne
Powers
I want to be painted onto the canvas of your future
and carved into the floorboards of your past
my love for you is deeper than the Atlantic
and I am the tide
constantly returning to your shore line
no matter how many times I'm turned away.
I once asked my mother
what the most tragic love story was
and she said it was the story of the moon and the sun
Cursed to live apart for eternity
only meeting briefly
at dusk
but with that
comes the beauty of the sunset
and these bruises
they are proof that the color spectrum
Does not hold enough reds and blues
to paint my endless sea of love
On to the canvas of your future
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