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isn't it strange, that you meet yourself in different people, in new faces,
The person you witness and become, the imprint remains
It is part of you, subdued but brewed like cyclonic wind
Decode others with empathy, look beneath the eyelids
The door to the soul, it looks just like mine
From the exterior, what is, all these coverings?
We have hidden the warmth quite beneath everything.
so fragile this lens
could it see deep down for what we seek to cleanse

your eyes reflect a light
makes the doubt in my heart pack up and take flight

resonating lies
always there to guide me like stars in the night sky

intricate mask
brought an end to the question they would always ask

chemicals in my brain
is it just something new or really you numbing this pain

a tale of will soon came something quite haunting
death the titled chapter at the end
a hollow thrill of everlasting wanting
stained in history's trend

obviously
you had it out for me
and to my dismay
you had flawless aim
an oldies jawn 3
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true
Before our departure, I’ve some things to say:
Don't die with your music still inside you.

From boys to men, together we grew,
Nostalgic memories of how we’d play.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.

Twenty-five years, each version brand new.
I’m proud of how you’ve carved your way.
Don't die with your music still inside you.

You stayed close when I switched my crew,
Loving a man we once called gay.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.

For you, there's nothing I wouldn’t do.
We’re growing older, slowly turning grey.
Don't die with your music still inside you.

I’ll always be there, even without a clue.
Live your life fully, don’t let it decay.
Mistaken for brothers, and maybe that's true.
Don't die with your music still inside you.
As I'm leaving, I tried writing a villanelle for my best friend.
Your feedback is appreciated, Villanelle was a very challenging form!
I see the shape of things
As they shift
And slowly change.

I feel the weight it brings
As they chisel
And carve their names.

As the clouds move through their lives
They stretch, and pull apart.
No cloud will ever be the way
It was back at its start.

Maybe we are as those clouds,
Reshaping as we go.
No need to be ashamed nor proud.
Simply travel where winds blow.

Maybe we could learn from them,
Who exist but do not fight.
Face reality with grace, and then
Do the same in the windy night.
i had already died when i chose to stay
please don’t bury me in casket
please don’t bury me
i hate it here
i hate it
i hate
i
i want
i want to
i want to live
please save me
please save me from this madness
i had already died, but i chose to stay
Street corner of my mind, project it into the future.
Context : I am dealing with alot of what could be termed 'strange thoughts' (if I was talking to a consellor) but they are more into the metaphysical realm (of which my area of ignorance is very large). Dealing with death/life/current experience of 'my 'life''/life after physical death and trying to make sense of what my dreams are telling me (which is the opposite of what my paranoid voice was telling me last week).....so where does that leave me? (listening to music constantly is semi relief but also painful sometimes) - it leaves me dealing with alot of mental fear - my latest coping skill is to throw or project it into its right expectant time in this reality and not have to 'really' face it until it manifests in this reality (if it ever does - or maybe this fear is true in others perceptions of me but they are unwilling to say it straight to my face - for example I was trying to get breakfast this morning and the person at the sandwich shop redirected me to another shop across a walk way - go to the other shop - they redirect me to the first shop - such closed loops can be perceived as a test/fun/bull*hit/etc..... depending on my mental state (ignoring diabetic hunger of course) but it is just an example of how 'my life' currently is - I would prefer to be asleep or drunk or within non human touched nature but that isnt going to happen and I am struggling :-(
Though tomorrow is there,
But I won't be there.
Nobody care.
World doesn't stop for any one of us.
People come and go.

The sky will still be blue,
While mine remains dark.

I won't be there.
It's just another candle burning
But now it's dim.

Though tomorrow is there,
I won't be there.
Although never mine....
You found me washed up,
I’d fallen at sea,
Searching for an island,
I’d dreamed into being-
I was sure it was safe from all harm.

Half alive, you dragged me up and into the dunes,
Began to resuscitate me,
with nothing else,
but the sureness in your eyes.
My heart danced,
Yet my head stood still.

We tangled our threads,
I held your throat,
with electric hands,
Wrapped up in our own special place,
You were my fire in the rain.

And as the fires roared,
Sureness soared,
I jumped from my own skin,
With fear In my hands,
Strangled my self to death.
Put myself out,  
trampling upon the embers of us,

      With the same old boots i had worn before   you saved my life x x
You have come down with the storm
Splashed and spread across the Earth
Merging with the mud to take form
In this amalgamation, you took your first breath.

You have since assumed the affairs of the mud-form you’ve chosen
Entrapped by the aspiration of fulfilling the duties that come with it
And limited within the terrain in which it is soaked in
Wholly bewildered in a dimension you cannot outwit

O Raindrop, soon the sun will rise and the mud will dry
With all the illusions you’ve acquired in this long night
Wither away with the mud or evaporate back into the sky?
Will you perish into sand or re-immerse yourself with the infinite?
Your soul as the raindrop and your body represented by the mud.
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