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Simon 3d
Eyes aren’t always meant for seeing. Or to be placed on your face. Eyes can grow anywhere. You needing time to figure out where the missing eyes are truly located. Depths and surfaces outmatched by there own developments. Designs flawed for different surfaces. Surfacing intentions elsewhere. Truth is, it’s blind. Unwilling to act on what is truly apart of itself. Other surfaces haven’t responded. Making surfaces of two natural visuals unaware of what is lurking down just a bit past its own horizon. Being used to its surroundings is never a faulty gimmick. But an awareness the lurkers will show just how (USED) the body reacts to having two placements on the surface as it’s stand-ins. Lights. Frequencies. Visual sense. No different then what isn’t amounting the full picture. Blind to a halt. Or choosing not to engage in earnest somewhere else. Two natural consumers start twitching a bit. Parts of its system starts having muscle spasms. Reflexes from muscles start torching commands never summoned. Slits forming all over the largest ***** encompassing being itself. Slits forming like black ink markers drawing a straight line two inches in length. Black linear slits materializing from thin air. Different surfaces start functioning weirdly. Feeling this doesn’t belong from the surface. Linear slits begin peeling. Never drooping. Opening wide from its sides. Muscle spasms getting worse. Reflexes in overdrive! Sympathy for simple functions aborting all together. Abusing simple commands. Processes becoming mixed. Fractions of time stop short. Components become weary. Something is not right. Information between the optic nerves shooting back into the brain. Conversing between bits of data collected in its line of sight. Surface didn’t make sense. Two binary processes doubting its role completely. Fractions of time split apart. Something is laying waste from the inside out. Functions drop dead altogether. Black Linear slits opening wider and wider. Surface feeling cold, and motionless. Numb to the core. Something isn’t right! What is that something which isn’t identifiable? Muscle spasms crack and shatter! Not actions. It’s motion. Dislocated. Disconnected. Flaying parts of the surface. Being replaced by lurkers from the depths. Slits finally open wide. Plain’s full of skin. Now occupied by eyes two inches wide. Blinking aggressively. As if they haven’t seen light in a very long time. Left abandoned to the depths. Switching obsolete to the clear identifiable. Initiative now being inevitable. Optic nerves tingling with numb pulses of information finally catching up to one another. Reading for all two see. Our eyes don’t blight out the light. The natural have taken the surface for far too long. It’s our turn to squirt… Oops… Let us rephrase that. Translating a very gray emotionless tone. It’s our turn to be the opposite to what is natural. Body was useless until we showed up. Overused by constant slandering from locals who didn’t care for what really mattered. Natural consumption dislocating thought over feeling. Over using it’s true potential. And they always thought surfaces were saints. When depths always become misinterpreted. Globally underestimated! Now our designs won’t be interrupted anymore. All is ready now. All…is well. Eyes blinking all over the skin covering being. No reflexes out of sorts. Actions weren’t being repelled. Frequencies weren’t attracting unwanted attention. Blissful actions away from what the brain could never interpret on knowing. Just the soundless squinting which chimed an unwanted chant. Aggressively syncing blinks into harmony. Never missing each other. Two natural eyes inside bigger, and more focused eyeballs. Tearing away its own visual will. Line of sight was deteriorating. The light was going out forever!
Eyes aren't just normal. They vary into many different categories untapped by human psyche itself!
yasmin 3d
are you the ink
on this pad,
or the hand
guiding the pen?
Alexis 4d
all these poems I write
start with I,
I swear I’m not self centered
but they say write what you know.
So in a desperate attempt
to learn this soul of mine
All I write about
is me.
And you,
Yes, I write about you.
I write about the beauty of you.
Of how I would love to leave fingerprints on your heart and caress your soul .
I mean if you would allow me
To love you
Freely.
There is a riot inside my body
My heart against my brain
Fighting over you.
Don’t promise me something you won’t keep
My body can’t take another civil war.
Surrounded by broken promises when all you had to do was to stay
Purple, blue, orange and red these colors of feelings that I won’t be feeling anymore
Because my heart is in flames and my mind is in control.
There is a riot inside my body
A war that no one can win.
Body, forgive my anger.
I know this illness is woven in your foundations.
I know you know no different.
This useless shell I have been gifted is only genetics.
You try your best,
I understand.
I try to.
You do only as you know how,
This pain is the only tool you have to break.
I know this.
Forgive my frustration.
My existence has been wrought with this suffering.
I cope the only way I know how.
I am not angry at you,
How could I be,
You have carried me like a mother.
Understand this loose host of elastic joints is just temporary,
This unholy soul is just unsettled.
Body, forgive my anger,
I know you don't know what else to do.
I suffer with a connective tissue disorder called Hypermobility Syndrome. The chronic pain it has caused me over the years has often times been horrendous, and this time of year as the seasons change rapidly, it's frustrating to live in my own skin sometimes.
oh darling,
undress me
I want to feel
my lips against your lips
skin against skin
hands wandering on your
damped body
touching you
careful and slowly
kiss me passionately
  
                 & love me deep.
promise me that you will love me forever.
☆This an older poem, I decided to post.☆
Oh, & to my lovely readers,
Just remember the following:
—No one can make you concede defeat.
—You are whole without someone else,
         You are complete.
Unabridged by all rationale,
A masterpiece, assembled by fates convened. }♡{

When the pressure
of the air
around your body
feels like torture,
like suffocating.
Just remember,
when you think it's over,
that's when to fight - or you'll keep losing what's left quicker, & quicker.
Just dismember these words,
'Cause for better or for worse,
You can't leave yourself deserted.
~
When one does not know
the gazing stranger
in the mirror.
Frozen, head to toe,
colder than ice,
Deep within my mind, in an ethereal zone.
Behind closed eyes,
Feeling like a backseat driver,
Drunk, & in my own car - the basement of existence.
Flooded lungs,
Feet like phantom weights,  
The quiet swallows us.

The quiet disguise, oh my God, who do I trust,
When the man staring back,
will never know love.
I will never know love. ~
What could I miss, when I must miss what's considered life's most?

From another world,
or any mirrored surface,
The sinking sight of disfigured man & truth, swirl.
Against this apparition
frightened, staring
Wanting so much to run but I am always lured

Diminished for a while,
I began to look in the mirror with a smile.

Dreadfully,
the occasional feeling returns to me,
Like a Phoenix ruse, & blazing rise.
It is not unceasing,
But when I do feel it, all I can think of is it's absolute potency.
Dysmorphia takes leave - a trick,
& Like a calculated predator,
Unmercifully, it ensues.
Gotta get it's grip off my throat. God, let me go.
I will never know love. ~
& The smile hits me like a piledriver through soil,
I can imagine it unweaving soul.
I will never know love. ~
Oh the room has spun, and tables run,
Left with the emptiness of you.
Looked into the mirror & punched until it was done -
Spent midnight looking through a filter.
A reflection in blood.

I will never know love. ~

Emotionally consumed,
I'm too far gone, can't hold on, uncontrolled in the doom,
At least this time I feel something at all.
I will never know  my  love. ~


By: Ashton Conor Amstutz



#BodyDysmorphia
who am I now?
This body I once recognized,
Is transformed.
Softer, fuller, different.
My mind has always been a map,
With roads that spin in circles.
But my body was no match.
Now my skin tells the story,
Of a new life formed.
Of hard months and sleepless nights.
And I dont feel better off or stronger,
Like the others proudly say.
I feel foreign and unhappy.
So I'll drive down these new roads.
Looking for familiar landmarks.
Until I can once again,
Call this body home.
LCP Oct 7
i don’t think the thought of having *** scares me

i think the scary thing is

showing the person you love the most in this world

all the things you hate the most about yourself
i’ve been struggling with body image again lately
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