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Daisy Hemlock Mar 2018
Sea levels rise
And the cruel frigid waters
May one day flood the island of my mind
Dan White Jan 2018
Slowly I walk towards the wall. Someday, somehow, some say, we will all face him. He is not me, not like the one I imagined but instead a reflection of a fragment that has disappeared ages ago. And I know one thing for sure: long before my first and last breath, everyone is here.

A last stand… Beckoning.

A blurry scene collapses like a rose’s thorn crushed by a hammer, and it’s heaven. Fresh air breezes throughout the field like a thousand winters summoned  in a hot air balloon; one pop, and it might burst.

Instead it dies.

Blackness fades into nothingness as light bends darkness when desperateness serves greatness. A tiny yet almost invisible terrifying spot of delight. All will come true and limits are met only when reaching the neverending centre again and again.

The concentric circle.

Never have I felt this much euphoria as time feels decay; the process of giving and taking, for eternity. And never have I dreamed so much desolate fueled nightmares until tonight. A night to remember for the ages as ages tend to burn with backwards conspiracy.

A feast for the new millennium.

Tragic meets company as destiny embraces chaos when a tall figure stands opposed to a small ocean vessel. Waving fiercely, with strong arms. Screaming against the absence of light. But not tonight, not anymore. Maybe never, yet always.

The destined traveller.

Always wandering but never here as the room grows from specs to pyramids; standing great and longing connate justice. Ever towering, never to look down, yet always pondering. In spite of desire, thirst is not quenched, however the stalactite still grows slowly.

The remains.

Nothing is sacred and with the fidelity of strangeness interwoven its frontier is bubbling with the force of insecurity; the final pillar of a marble treehouse. Leaning. Never to leave, never to stay, but always here.

Forever.
A allegorical stream of consciousness concerning different aspects of (my) life.
Kimberly Feb 2018
She was music and he was mathematics- without one, the two would not exist.  
He was light and she was love and their energies intertwined and intermingled to form a helix of ecstacy and consciousness...
their combined energies rivaled that of an atomic bomb.
Feminine and masculine,
Right brain and left brain...
Simultaneously hard and soft
smooth and rough
Calming and chaotic.
She was fire to his water, but he never sought to put out her flames.
When they finally came together physically and their eyes met, colors of a psychedelic sort exploded around them
And the universe held its breath in anticipation of their consummation...
and every piece fit more snuggly together than the pieces of an old familiar jigsaw puzzle...
This couldn't have been the first time that they had met...
well, maybe in this lifetime.

~KiCo the Conqueror
#TwinFlame
girl diffused Feb 2018
Just the frenzied need to get it out
Just the raw feeling
No anesthesia
No anesthesia
How I'm the rotting tooth you cut out of your mouth
How I'm the stinging paper cut that you slapped a Band-Aid on
How I'm blank paper
How I'm all blank slate
How it meant nothing
How I can't slip the shoes on now because it reminds me of wearing them around you
How I keep them in the closet
“You'll know I got them for you”
A “think of it as a memento, every time you look at it”
No hesitation

The beat-up heather gray Ellen DeGeneres shoes you bought for me
Unmarred and untouched
How the card still resides in the bedside drawer
Or didn't think about the card you got for me
But did that anyway
Bashfully admitted that you normally didn't do that
Twined your fingers around mine,
Or how you eventually held my hands,
Because you never did it
Or think about how you'd hold me after ***
Because you never said it,
How it was during an ******
On your tongue
Feel of it in your mouth,
And memorize it,
Or playfully say my name
Or write poetry about me
As I impressively recite your full name, down to your deceased mother's surname
As I say your name, more than my own
Or try to recall the sound of my voice
Or my smile
And never think once of me
And talk with your coworkers, all female
And flirt with your receptionist
And receive your paycheck
And go to work
And walk your dog
As you go about your day and pay your bills
Multiple meanings that you don't care to explore
The simplified “hey,” kind that's pithy and vague
Late-night message compositions
It's not, it's just not
Oh, **** me, it's not like last time at all
See that you don't follow me back
Send a friend request on Soundcloud
Tell myself that you won't say anything
Compose another message but leave it unsent

Lower and lower
The faint dark hairs trailing down the otherwise smooth navel
Sought my approval
Sought approval
How you asked me repeatedly, shyly, if I was okay with that
How you wanted to shed that weight
The barely-there protrusion
Memorizing the soft roundness of your stomach

Stupid little nicknames that I would **** for now
T-Money
T-Swift
Tay
Tay
Taylor
You playfully saying my name
Your lips moving,
When you coo to your Papillon
When you're talking to me over a bowl of quickly whipped up oatmeal
Encouraging me to touch myself in the ink-spilled darkness,
Murky, and blurred outline of your hand
Try to remember what your voice sounds like –when you're angrily yelling about Hearthstone

Gnash my teeth and don't realize it until ten minutes later
Get up and turn the fan so the stream of air blasts unforgiving onto my face
Toss and turn in bed—literally—throw the duvet off
Think of the shirt you were wearing in your last profile picture you had when we first started talking
The one with the dusky blue V-neck
Study your year-old profile picture that I told you looked good
Listen to music on Soundcloud
Look up jobs instead
Don't actually do it
Debate re-adding you
Look over your profile on Facebook, my secondary account
The “hey, I hope you're doing okay” kind
Late-night message compositions
Splintered and fractured
Bloodied veneer and strands of hair

Porcelain sink
We were so lonely and misunderstood
You were...
It's just a dream though, just a ******* dream
Read it forward and then once more backwards. A series of heartbreaking memories and moments in stream of consciousness. N/a.
mel Feb 2018
divine DNA
floods your cosmic-sea eyes
the universal humming
is drumming
inside
you breathe the cosmos alive
Dakota J Dawson Feb 2018
I want you
to lust
after me

I believe
in being
vile and rude

Try to
understand my language
of impure thoughts

Condemned to afterlife
without relieve
from woe

Where is
my foe
of bout and confrontation?

I must be
left alone
with suspicious ideals

That border
on
the extreme

Of my consciousness
borrowing into my mind
destroying my being

Preventing relief
to the
depths of Hades

I'm not an angel
nor a worn object of time
but the untamable beast fighting love
Lucia Jan 2018
Isn't it incessant!?
That tick tick ticking within the walls of my skull.
It will count me down, entrap me in my own noise,
So thunderous!
And I can only pray for release,
Into dullness.

Why must my tired pupils notice everything!?
They rebell against me, despite my pleas to sheen over,
Ignore,
Shut tight and,
Let peace wash me away!

Together, they assault me with experience,
And I am shoved in a wedge of darkness,
To beg for tranquility in vain.

The constant thoughts turning over,
And eyes which take in light...
This proof that I am living,
It is my agony.
A bit unpolished but came candidly
Polly Jan 2018
Sometimes
I get so lost in the detail
That I forget that all these tiny parts
Are just like stars
Scattered across the horizon
Shining alone
Oblivious that they are perceived as a whole sky

I think that maybe
People are the same
Down here there seems so much distance between us
But from far away
We probably just look like one connected mass.
And even when they feel like they do
Nobody ever really
Shines alone.
Zachary Redwood Jan 2018
The internal typewriters
With each observing moment
Another novel
Behind open windows of nosy neighbors
Hoping they stray no further
Than objects touched
An act of rebellion
Perfectly sequenced with years of experience
Look down and laugh
Into your hands
Hoping the only act that stays unnoticed
The imperfections
other people gave you
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