Those shadowy emissaries
That pass the mind’s great lidless eye
In slow procession through the night
Do fill with color and with sound
The sleeping brain’s vast sweeping bound,
And populate its cityscapes
And alleys with amorphous shapes
That shifting form and countenance
Convey the tides of fleeting thought;
And oft become dark shapes of dread,
Parades of faceless horrors, such
That when I glance their looks are changed –
Each lineament is rearranged –
All meaning or remembrance lost,
Or masked by sweet forgetfulness.
The secret that there lurks within
The labyrinths of memory,
Still tainted by the stench of guilt -
And strengthened by the voice of fear -
Still screams from some dark hidden cell
The lurid blasphemies of hell,
And births itself anew each night,
Each morning dying with the light,
Yet nightly grows in hateful strength,
Corrodes the sturdy locks of will,
And claws through those great iron doors
That lead to waking consciousness.
Acina Joy 18h
This is the worst feeling
to be drowning on something
that's not there.
Becoming the empty shell
of a fool who had fallen in love
with the thought of loving someone
instead of the action of doing so.

And you never know how much
it hurts to love someone
when they finally let you go.
And you never know how much
more it hurts to know
that you already had a chance
of doing so.
Please love whom you can
What do you mean come to the wake?

Aren't you coming over still?

I thought you had a show next week...

Wasn't that you on the phone the other day?

When did we last speak?

Was it in good context as I remember it was?

I just can't conceive to believe that you're not.

How can I come to your wake when I'm still only dreaming?

Who will I go with?

Surely not you...

It couldn't be.

I just won't believe. I'm not going to leave.

I can't be at a wake for a man that hasn't died yet...

I simply refuse to believe.
I wrote this May 02 2018
Rest in peace Kyle. I will always love and cherish the time we had together. I will miss you always.
Broken-down systems
Broken-down values
Broken governments
Broken  families
Broken relationships
Broken faith
What will be left
After almost everything
Breaks down?

when the fire of true love
flickers dims and dies
a solitary shadow falls
deep in darkening eyes
your once sweet words of love
become but empty lies

when that open door
to your tender heart
began its quiet close
ir was subtle at the start
but now you block all access
to the fragile part

what once so warm and effortless
now feels quite chilled and tight
the closing off began unseen
as but the passing of a night

until one morning no dawn breaks
no tenderness nor warmth awakes
and a loneliness encircles slow
you seek the one that you've loved so

she's here arms reach she shares your bed
you roll and turn and lift your head
you search her face in the predawn glow
but these eyes you see you no longer know

you feel no tears you feel no fight
a sadness rises from this night
your love once so sweet and light
will never agsin feel truly right

it's in this sober clarity
you realize you know
though you chose to stay asleep
your heart left long ago


rob kistner © 2013
This is a contemplation on the subtle growing loneliness of "falling out of love" and the deep sadness, yet strange calm of the moment you truly know.
Right now,
Are Terrified of Reality.
Trump is causing us
To lose ground.
All our ideals
Could go up in smoke.
Madisen Kuhn Jun 3
with skin of ivory
that blushes at the sight of sun
even when the clouds are out,
i turn into a silly shade of pink
          with a heart that drops
falls down, down, down
into a rabbit hole
at the sight of anything
remotely shattering,
gasping at little cracks on the sidewalk
carefully tiptoeing around bumblebees
          with lungs that fill with cotton
in fear of a hansel and gretel gingerbread house;
lead me to the witch
where i will cry and wonder,
“how did i get here?”
and forget about
all the gumdrops in my stomach
          with poise that only lasts seconds
in the face of spiders,
they crawl into my mouth
kept there until given the chance to spit
them back into your face
          i will hold my breath
and picture fields of lavender
where a tanned girl spins carelessly
until my tissue-paper limbs
learn how to hold me up
from my book, 'please don't go before i get better'
read here:
Slips like smooth ice
Into a delicate mind
Freezes over the wound
Numbs the pain
Til it's only dull and
You can forget
Everything that hurts,
Just for a moment
Let's play pretend
Paint a freezeframe
Of grey emotions
It feels better than
Red and blue.
Part one in a emotion filled, quick write series.
ty tokyo May 30
lost inside of you
I never want to come out
& be seen as me

My life is filled with endless apologies

Sincere and heartfelt promises that are shallow and empty

It's not a conscious thought
The words aren't spoken with known deceit or intentional mal-intent
But somewhere in my brain, buried in my subconscious, I know...
A self-sabotaging automated programming constantly running
And regardless of my cognitive actions or conscious thoughts, desires and intentions
My automated programming will find a way to inevitably run its code, follow its routines and execute its prime directive

And that's not a cop out
They're still my actions
Conscious or subconscious
Actions resulting from subconscious "thought" are those I'm too ignorant to see or too weak to change in that moment

I don't know what's worse
The subconscious lies and heaps of horse fertilizer, day in and day out, I shove down the throats of those who cross my path
Or the incessant feed of regurgitated words, phrases, thoughts, ideas and worst of all.... hopes.... that is being forced through my digestive track only to be excreted by my body and re-absorbed by my central nervous system


The worst trick of all

And it always works. Without fail
Because it psychologically and emotionally preys on everything I want to be
The Hope that THIS TIME I'll get it right
All those things inside of me
All of my
This time it won't be wasted
This time I'll come through. You can count on me!
I promise!
This time I'll be on time
This time I won't be late!
This time I'll meet expectations
This time I'll EXCEED expectations!
This time I won't let people down
This time I won't....
                                    ..... let



The saddest and ultimate cruelty of lies
Created by the Devil to prey on the weak and gullible
If Hell is living your worst day over and over again for eternity;
Then repeating the same detrimental behaviors over and over again for life, sustained in this perpetual motion by something so simple and harmless looking as "Hope" must fall at the Devil's hands

A wolf in sheep's clothing sprinkled in fairy dust
The worst of thoughts and beliefs are kept alive by Hope
Hope is a disease; a psychological virus
A damaged idea spreading from person to person, hijacking their system, and infecting their thoughts
For Hope is not a singular idea, isolated in seclusion, yet ultimately wrapped up and packaged out with other ideas
No, Hope is the vehicle that all thoughts that follow must ride in and by which be delivered
It is the Uber for ideas that follow
And like an unscrupulous and unsuspecting Uber driver,
Hope takes your brain to a secluded spot against its will and does as it so pleases
But unlike survivors of such horrific events
I, like a wide eyed doe in the headlights
I continuously expose myself to the exact same scenarios
over again

But not to worry

Hope will lose its magic
And the void created will be filled



And worst of all,


Denial is Hope's evil twin

The not so secret malicious trickster who, even though wears his emotions somewhat more clearly, is still capable of a lifetime of successful pranks

But unlike Hope, Denial doesn't always reveal his trick if the tricked has yet to become aware of the ruse
Instead, Denial will let them build
Stack upon stack
A colossal suspension bridge built and supported on Denial
And when I, with blind faith, cross that bridge
Putting everything and anything on the line, without question
That's when Denial delivers its reckoning
And in one all encompassing swoop it swallows me whole and any resemblance of "life" with it

Hope and Denial
My Atlantic and Pacific Oceans
and Me, a tiny island
Flanked on either side by the endless majesty of each
And like this planet,
I too,
Am a sphere spinning
A tiny island against the enormities of the the deep blue
A shipwrecked survivor
Floating on the driftwood of my subconscious
Left to the will of my environment
A helpless passenger on this ship of life
Constantly spinning between Hope and Denial
Some days calm and serene
Others, tormented by storms
Monster waves,
Flashes of lightning,
Ear shattering crackling explosions of thunder
And howling winds so fierce they must be the breath of God

And regardless of what scenario lays before me,
I'm left repeatedly with the same "choice" and same action

Enveloped with fear,
Hanging on for dear life,
Like a helpless and horrified child.....

On the verge of soiling my pants
Written: May 28, 2018

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