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We are all bewildered dancers
Lost in an incomprehensible ballet—
Woven tightly through a rich tapestry,
Drawn from contrasting colors,
Yet forming a boundless whole,
Waltzing hand in hand—
In love and hate, joy and suffering,
Dark and light, death and life.

The universe—a radiant church window,
Fracturing light into polychromatic unity,
Drifting shards of stained glass,
Piercing through the drama of duality,
Rippling into a sea of endless complexity,
Wedged between the boundaries
of stars and the space that forms them,
A perfection found in imperfection,
Beneath this sea of contrast lies truth:
How could we be anything at all
Without two sides to make us whole?

Before the technicolor skies formation,
We were the loneliest deity,
Infinity alone in a room made of itself,
Where everything was everywhere,
And time unfolded all at once.
So we crafted ourselves a dream—
From the core of our mirrored soul,
A place where I am you and you are me,
So we may live and perish in grace.

So we may play a game with ourselves,
Performing on this boundless stage,
An intricate puzzle piece,
Fitting together in a dance of chaos,
Meticulously designed to deceive ourselves,
So we may treasure life in the face of death.
Navigators of the in-between,
Wandering the maze of nothingness.

If infinity could dream,
Its deepest longing would be
To grasp something real—
To feel the grass beneath its feet,
As it runs across the hills of our earth,
Savoring the fleeting bliss of it all.

The present is so precious,
It hints at a reason we call it so—
A split second glimpse of meaning
In the eternal dance of existence.
Humans tread this lonely universe,
as an ever-dispersing body,
but our I’s never meet.

Behind the velvet curtains of our minds,
within the iris of our eyes,
rests an endless expanse of stars,
refracting off a crystalline hall of mirrors—
a boundless,
eternal reflection,
devoid of every word.

Whispering so softly in us,
behind all thought, all form,
revealing everything,
yet ultimately nothing—
nothing at all.
Man Aug 2023
Vestal shores of youth,
Life! -Render once forth
Coasts, before every home.
Turn castles to glass,
Liken ivory to stone.
Our long mass, come to close-
Hunger no more.
What is achieved, at last;
The peace found within,
Begins to unfold.
Man Jan 2021
bury me living
for i am in a world of dead

where the zombified stumble around
looking for meaning

maybe it'll make more sense
six feet under
and down the river styx

tie me to a raft
and let me drift

far, from this meaningless charade
known as life
Xella Sep 2020
She met me by the river and turned her cheek to the sun
taunting it. Her willingness could cause a mark in red,
like a statue she sits so still.

My feet dangle in the river, which she dare not touch and I know
why she must stay so fussed with the pray that is all in her head,
to think she may die.

Or end up dead down some dark dingy creek
gives me no better reason to meet her here where she knows, her
friends. To say goodbye is to become a foe with the daring woman.

So I just hope that she'll turn her head and pull the mask to her chin.
To look me in the eye and scream in my face,
that I might die tomorrow.

Even though I know she could strike me down this minuet,
with the river raging i'd close my eyes,
to the fish flailing, and my friends across the waters.
To the beat of the rapids, i'd happily die.
I'm trying this new thing, writing but not editing. Then coming back to it months later...i'm trying to create a stream of consciousness...key word trying. So...i didn't edit this, just wrote.
blushing prince Mar 2019
In my mind there's a power that I keep by the shelf of books I once accumulated in an attempt to own everything
to keep something that would always stay, permanent to years
I never use it and at times the dim light from overhead makes me forget what it is i'm looking at
I don't touch it in case I've forgotten how to handle it and I think I may have
it might leave room for discussion or leave the room altogether
I was never good at piecing puzzles, the truth lying somewhere in the invariability of the same outcome
some call it probability or fate and fortune
it may even be unlucky
I used to be a woman who knew exactly what to say however poorly timed it could be
but now my mouth can't cooperate and I've forgotten all my favorite words
things left outside
blushing prince Jan 2019
the sun is my king and sometimes it asks me
what i'm doing down here on earth
i can't help but explain that everything has it's place and there are certain rules you cannot bend
i consistently want to have a ****** job wherein it slowly melts my spirits but not really
what i really want is nothing by the sea
doesn't matter which one
where i can pray into the sand
where someone asks
who are you? what are you doing?
and i can tell them
at ease, at ease
like that cowboy i remember from my childhood
this is me at my most degenerate
at my most free
but you wouldn't know
except the sun king and I
blushing prince Jan 2019
a swollen finger rising to the occasion
rising to the size of a grape, purple
bloated like a stuffed pocket or pregnant chicken
green oozing out like the slime i got from the museum and the smell of rubber and plastic following me in my sleep

a ghost by the window slipping into my thumb and biting pain
the numb pressure of muscle tissue ripping
the phantom claws out and shouts that women are debris
swamps with lost metal buried at the bottom if you dig long enough the days become one and their hair consumes you whole

i argue with the shadow, threaten that this bruise will burst and blood with meet alcohol, an antibiotic fever dream
it stares at me defiant, like a giant pulverizing a village
my fingers wrestle and before the abscess can pop
the fingerprints unravel until i am nothing but thread
a coil at the bottom of the floor
a dress to be sewn in a bedroom
the shadow stand up and fits her bones into the fibers, a bride in white
the thumb hurts no more
a gross anatomy dissection
I have faced down
the existential anguish
that drives lovers
to padlock themselves within.
I have woven blankets
to warm my cold shoulders
when I tumble
through the abyss.
I have created
Reason, Religion, and Reverence
out of Absurdity and Stardust.
I will always be
more desirous of desire
than secure with security,
more comforted by wonder
than wondrous of comfort,
and more of the romantic than the realist,
though neither is whole
without the foil.
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