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krissie May 31
and then i arose one day, to realize i'd lost myself in time
perhaps i lost who i was because she's no longer here to find
or not lost at all, but found a new home - of this, i'm not certain
dwindling amongst the constellations comprised of all my other versions

but ****, i feel so free, i've found the keys to my own prison
wasted time looking for a better life yet all the while i was livin' it
let your soul live with intention, not in a state of suspension
live your potential that brings your most enlightened peace
live not to bridge the chasms in another soul's journey

put forth more energy to only that which serves you
untangle yourself from that which does not deserve you
don't let your waiting existence be made into a sport
cause one day you'll wake and there'll be nothing left to wait for
George Krokos Apr 19
I wish I was a billionaire
so I could travel everywhere
in my own private aeroplane
go see the world and not be vain
in a much more conducive time
and write about it all in rhyme.
Helping all those needy people
regardless of their own steeple
who'd come across my path to be
and give to them a hand from me
for all their immediate needs
as an example of good deeds.
Written in 2020. Wouldn't it be great?!
Morgan Vail Apr 18
Swanboat, swan
Be with me again when you get here
You and your long brown hair
Swan, white wings
Head bowed
Clasp my hands in yours and
Honor your vows
I want to swim alongside you
Even if the lake is dying
And the fish all float
And you are drowning
My imperfect
Come around again to me
Each spring I crave your touch
Like the desert and the rain's lust
It hits the sand and seeps into the ground
And you forget my name
You keep me up at night
I miss your brown eyes and your laugh
I want to see you again
Holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers
And doing anything to show I'm sorry for making you live
Morgan Vail Apr 21
i'd have given up my poetry for you
blind, drawn by your voice, you lonely bird
i cornered you without even wishing to
but i swear i held the lines in my throat
though they died
i'd have given up my song for you
but you lied and boasted and
cried to me
we were children then, i was a fool
rope at the ready each moment
for i'd have ripped out my dreams for you
and my love was utterly fragmented
back there i whimpered against the staircase
watching the night drawl along
i always knew it'd never be enough for you
Morgan Vail Apr 18
it's been a very long time
since I've looked at the stars
and seen stars

I am learning how to do everything again
how to live
after a decade of dying
how to get up and brush my teeth
and learn things
speak to people
how to look up at the stars
and not count the days until my death

there are days when the sweet blade against my skin
seems preferable than looking myself in the mirror
but the knives stay in the drawers now
not under the mattress

it's difficult now
but if I have done nothing in my life
at least I have learned how to live
how to see the stars
for once
Morgan Vail Apr 17
Like the choir in heaven,
Like the death of my eleven,
Like the many who have tragically died.
There’s a devil over yonder,
And she’s getting a little closer,
And what’s the point,
If it’s not played,
In blue?

And the trees outside keep dying,
My shattered windows keep lying,
I keep myself alive like god sleeping on the seventh.
Stray cat, come back home.
You’ll step on glass if you roam.
God, what’s the point,
If I’m not there,
With you?
Morgan Vail Apr 18
Strange, there is a shadow cross the graveyard,
And they gaze wistfully back to me.
In their hands a sparkling poem,
Bleeder of flesh and life alike.
He rounds the headstone draped in sable,
His pace matched by the lines I sowed,
Kneels among the dirt and mourners,
Leans forward embracing me, melancholy.
Whispers sweet nothings and forlorn promises,
Buried together under the Earth.
Her kiss so lone, condemned her tears.
And she departs, hastily as the blood fell.
Slowly as the dark became null.
Existence that remains unknown is existence without rules.
Since 'kun fiya kun' or "Be, and it is" is so basic,
the only answer to "being" that solves is b+e=be.
Still I question: "what am I, now?" as if I've never heard an answer.

My mind cannot cognize its own existence with "be" nor another verb.
Its rationality is as truth, which has no limits.
Yet, in the midst of expansion it asks "what am I?"
Answering: "fullness" is rejected when I can reject the fullness.

"Disbelief" is what I am when everything is going right but I must say "I am not there yet".
This disbelief is the wind in my sails, without it I would not have gone anywhere.
For even positive knowledge says "there is more to find", really saying "you are not you".
Thus, I am never.
Whereby "be" laughs and says "still, there is nothing".
Having been referred to on multiple occasions as being “depressed”, I am offended. Every time. Having a chronically macabre state of mind and being drawn to a melancholy atmosphere and writing does not make one depressed. Or a psychopath. It does not mean a person is on a journey to being a serial killer or committing suicide. Some people, such as myself, just happen to find comfort in things deep and meaningful. While some comedy, joy, and love is to be revered and enjoyed more sparingly the sad, twisted, and horrid truths of the world can uphold a better sense of completion, joy, and love. This does not make one depressed or mentally ill but perhaps just more...... thoughtful.
"why can't I be a man that likes pink,

why can't I be a woman that likes to surf the wind,

why can't I be a man that cries tears of joy,

why can't I be a woman that's not a mommy

why can't I be a man, without toughening up,

why can't I just be

be a human"

Wutherings Bronte
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