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nitelite Apr 17
I was left on a wire
Far above the earth,
Amongst tied sneakers and birds,
Far away from the world.

The fires beneath
Did viciously bleed through and race,
As an artist’s seeping oil paints,
Crimsoning the broken autumn space.

Safe as I was,
Stranded was I as well.
And although by peace my soul’s fires were quelled
The morn meant to awaken me instead burned in ****

And so the grounds once walked,
Now pits of flames to where I turn a blind eye,
Await flowing tears from the skies
Or perhaps even a gentle god's sigh

But life was equally vicious in it's droughts,
And with myself I could not make amends
Like a rat who refutes the hand to which it depends
Again and again, my own mind  finds itself to condemn

And so I seek refuge
Between the land and the sky so true
In hopes to see my fears and tears be subdued.
To be among the dead and hollow, I allude,
Fleeting, to a higher ground, but still they collude
To bring me down, as bottled up, I remain overdue
Of a reckoning or healing to burn or to soothe.
Til so, I burn, though from flames so far removed.
And lay my mind further in limbo, and so, I say adieu.
It's been a while! This one is a bit older, but I still liked this one a whole a lot and holds a special place in my heart. Hopefully,  I can get back on track.
nitelite Feb 22
As the reach of shadows lengthen
and the world turns cold and indifferent,
the soul seeks to find its way home,
a place it's never been, teased by instinct.

As the earth’s own shadow cloaks a world
the body rests and the mind dreams,
leaving the soul to wander,
across the earth in its lifelessness.

As the world makes peace with itself,
where the night sky betrays its cold demeanor,
and dawn's light misses its cue, spilling early
the flames borne from a snowfall's sky.

As porchlights pierce and dot a peaceful haze,
the snow naturally draped over me like a blanket,
and so I had to watch the world with wonder
and a certain comfort.

yellow streetlights call us home
in memory, as so in childhood

i remember a rich wisteria night sky,
pouring a soft and silky rain of immaculate crystals.
at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, three inches of snow on the mailbox
my parents ushered me inside, afraid i’d get cold, but i forgot to be.

a yellow streetlight illuminated the flowing wisps
who became snow when they touched down onto the earth
i swore that they winked to me in their final moment
through the glistening of their eyes

i remember catching them, wanting to save them
but they melted into my hands instead or got lost in my warm breath
yet even in their demise, they winked
and with ever-glistening eyes, said goodbye to me

this is to where my soul would first wander
after its body freed it at last,
where a bed of jovial wisps across the whole cold earth
could tuck me in under the yellow streetlight
nitelite Feb 4
sounds become soft pitter-patters,
muffled within the overdue snow,
and light steps leave heavy tracks,
gentle  shadows overpower glow.

baby stars  and baby constellations
slowly fall from distant streetlights
only to take the center stage of it all:

the vast world around him
the bitter coldness it  holds
the serenity in the air's sigh
and the dimly lit rose skies

they become dancers
to a song unheard.
nitelite Feb 1
its only 6:47am
but i've been up since 2 something
i was thinking about who i am
i guess im doing well.

i went to sleep at like midnight
after late-night overeating at a Shari's on a thursday.
two hours was it, try as i might.

i was feeling a little sick of myself, honestly.
kind of sick of yourself where you just think,
"in the end, what's there in store for me?"
and come up with few answers.

it was so weird, waking up to complete darkness,
motionless for hours in pitch night, before the day starts.
alright, this wasn't anything new, but regardless,
it still made me think.

i don't quite know where i'm headed,
yes, im waiting for the sun, but what then?
can i just go back to bed?
it feels like i just spent it all on a daydream,
doing nothing, but waiting, waiting, waiting, to fall asleep,
just to dream in the dark instead.

if i dont think, or move for a bit, i can feel myself drifting,
but it feels kind of comforting,
despite deep craters beneath by my eyes, twitching,
i know i'll go back to sleep sometime.
nitelite Jan 23
the present, now absent, sent away,
by the flickering change of a mere sentence,
becoming a thing of the past & the future.
now, with no one to know, & nowhere to be,
when we sail the cold skies in our minds,
when we blankly walk our dreams,
never quite fully knowing the lives we lived
the same way we never quite know the end,
just that it happens, & that it by definition remains hidden,
we become more like ourselves,
in the same vein that the reflection in the window
becomes clearer in darkness,
closed eyes & open dreams reveal who we are,
carrying projections of us away into the cold sky
where lost winds howl & cry,
calling a name we know better than to answer to,
since they call for something else, something long gone

in the tranquility of dead silence, in the air & the blurring, vanishing landscapes which past by,
the racing by of lives long planted whose roots stretch far beyond their branches,
we hasten our strides by sour fruit only to leave ripeness in our wake
& leave ourselves in hopes of finding someone new, within, & doomed to be without.
hollow, we search the grey, grey, world, for its secrets,
hopeless, never to find them
with our eyes open
nitelite Jan 16
a last shot into unknown,
dive deep into the soul less ink,
only to impart your own,
perhaps to emerge victorious?

imbue the stale cruelty of the inanimate
with the vivid cruelty of the soul,
bleed unto the mocking desolute canvas,
drawing blood from mindy & body in whole.

a last shot with broken minds,
write words that are not your own
for crazed usbthe hand that the soul hides behind
a battle of thoughts, then all alone.

Was it really anything at all?
These things I write, I can't quite trust them.
Yet I can't trust what I don't write.
It's so easy to get lost
In the _ of  _
Late 2019!! Hopefully I will start writing more this year, I've had a couple written that I'm still editing. A little uncharacteristic, but I hope to do something uplifting after this just to push my limits.
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