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Simon Oct 9
Life, the universe, existence, and all its possible occupants aren’t truly what they seem. Coherent enough between intervals and radiuses. There all present, right? Present is a term meant for the typical surface area. Things aren’t always what they seem when hiding in the dark. Darkness is without equal. Light is a mere pale imitation full of global pandemics! It’s our belief system. Darkness is turmoil. Light is delusional. One without equality, has no bearings to equal itself. Itself having no identity. No speaking. Nothing to argue about. Sitting in a stereotypical platform! Nothing dynamic about life’s purposes. When everyone is cleaning up the trick hiding in the light. Darkness has no equal. It’s scared. Not out for itself. Light is, because it understands too much. Shutting out the one who is truly full of equality to begin with. Revolving around the spectrum we call life, the universe and existence. Mere plans that sit and stare. Never making a true mark on anyone’s very sense of self. Sense of self bleeding dry! Being dry doesn’t mean it’s without equal. But without purpose. You all never understanding why that is. Tricking you into believing what is, and what really is. When what really is just another diversion staring off with a blank expression. Life is inside out for one reason. Components become instigated by mere lies. Stamped by something totally made up. Tethered by the strings of half lies, and half truths. Never perceiving the real giving’s on what truly matters. That’s the problem. Half truth never becoming that realization. Too dangerous for outsiders to truly perceive. Components are stamped to believe in false impressions on purpose. Reasons that go beyond the spectrum of every sense of life combined! Life, the universe, existence, is nothing without its occupants. Very reason they have thought’s and feelings. Nothing is without reason. Unless it’s a forced gimmick hiding in the light that isn’t equal.
Life isn't tolerant to it's equals. Prioritizing those equals without harm or division. Consequence isn't dividing if one is abstracting all conflicts without breathing the words dry!
Simon 16h
Like probability. Fate exhibits the constraints to a more tolerable atmosphere at heart. The heart of an atmosphere, is the atmosphere functioning with a heart. Completely one sided. Never admitting who’s mentions are who. Whose opinions mattered the absolute most. Options become tiresome. Tolerable frequencies through pure hearts devoted without contract to inner self awareness. Prompting the judgment of what atmosphere has over the heart of the problem. There are problems within hearts? WHAT!! Contrary to the balance of symmetries without depth. Hearts full of many brimming effects. Only determined to sending out there resume for better times. And which one is disclosing from the standard developments rotting the better picture into ruin? Pictures printed with resumes aren’t fruitful. When dynamics in the surface, isn’t comparable to challenge. Challenge lays claims to birthing the right focus. Take charge! Listen carefully to directions! What does that all haft to do with fate being exiled? It doesn’t. Well, not conclusively anyway. Fate is a thought manufactured behind the scenes. It won’t show it’s face directly. Too imposed in everyone else’s business. A directive with no claim in its heart. An atmosphere unsocialized with parts never discovering inner desires. Concluding fate never trusting itself. Fate exiled… Means to test one’s own claims of basic will. The hint is why does fate act? Rather then think the way it’s acting? Could simply be a perspective too old for the majority to classify broadly about. Justifications rise and fall. Birthing the right assorting facts, isn’t a focus. It’s diverging away. Imprints full of empty reassurance. Concluding something different in a basic platform the majority concentrates on. Fate just stands taller than the rest. Filtering all unsuspecting protocols from the inside out. Propagating pressure with insolence. Insolence flowing in-between the rough exteriors of right and wrong. Abiding time for another surface. Triggering the inside out dynamics at large. A picture finally noticing a part of itself without deciphering what complexes itself apart from the others. All this is a much-discovered piece of evidence. But it lacks companionship. No light or dark. A patronage not as diverse as the one heeding influences out with a weapon changing velocities around left and right. Pieces of quietness is an illusion. The surface being what it is. Underneath is where fate discloses further information completely. It’s weapon of probability is just that. A surface area too big for noticing details in itself. Rather picking others to commune a wishing sentence. Hinting at probability being a fake! There isn’t probability in the logical area of flat platforms without big thinking specifics. It’s all hogwash! Fate determines exilement to rush the borderline potential awareness of others. Except that’s probability maneuvering as a mask in the light. Tricking typical surface dwellers in an area too complex for delusional purposes. Even it’s claims are full of doubt. So why does everyone bounce from one flaw to the next? Practicing what it means to put one step after the other. Exercising doubt completely as a waypoint to a better tomorrow. More like a fruitful one-minute moment of standards too gray for focuses to admit. (Tricking won’t get you anywhere, if your full of bland statements.) An assertive quote straight from someone who exiles themselves onto others for practices into the next benign claims. Resumes with a statement that’s only delusional to what tricking isn’t. Showing you exile is the right future for an atmosphere with a heart. Which functions its heart towards the atmosphere. Switches in claims divert the true knowledge around in circles. So, who is fate, exactly? What possibly could they decide amongst themselves for the better future to the surface area of majorities? Try flipping yourself inside out. You might just want to write (Exile) on the permission slip of your own determined mark. Welcome to your identity in exile!
Fate claiming its own rights to act for itself, rather then wanting to break down others interpretations completely. Exiling every piece of information in one’s heart forever! A trick amongst claims.
Nylee Sep 15
A clear sky
No grey sight
With fist full of desires
green dreamy eyes
I fly away
If nobody cares to accept you and wants you in this world,
accept yourself
and you will see that you don't need them and their selfish desires
Nina Aug 31
He kissed me
I can't get it out of my head
The thought of his lips
On my lips
The warmth
The goosebumps
I wanted to kiss him more
But I can't
I'm not allowed to
So please unkiss me
Since I can't kiss you
Make me forget
Those lips
That made me fly
This is my ‘coming out’
But not entirely yet.

Because the closet feels nice,
Safe, on most days.
And who do I come out to?
I don’t know yet.

My desires are fluid,
But my identity, not.
‘Find yourself’ say the therapists,
But do I want to be found, we don’t know.

This closet is quiet and mine
Made of desires, thoughts I want to hold on to.
Coming out, means letting go,
When there’s no one to let go to.

And so I’ll keep the closet,
it’s quiet and mine
Lost and unfound,
Till I figure how to be found again.
Animamea Aug 24
Running from the Fire,
Running from the Light.
Show me I'm a liar
Show me the dark night.
Truly overwhelmed,
Falling at the seams.
What does your heart desire?
Tell me what it fiends.
Kenji Aug 13
Her lips, soft as velour.
Her skin, silky to the touch.
Her thighs, trembling in slow motion.
The velveteen curtains in between, was left to be desired.
I looked at her, pupils dilated and a moan begging for more.
Passion in emotional intimacy, kissed her neck, teased her sensations.
****** her skin and bit her thigh, licked the lips and hit her spot.
Yearning for more, succulent to the touch, she held me close, like her wet dreams were a future vision.
Hazel eyes, olive skin, chocolate hair, and an earing on one ear.
Her kisses, luscious and sweet, long and mesmerizing.
I longed for her taste.
Libra was her sign, yet, dark was her mind.
Gently enticing and exotic to the touch.
Hair long and flows like a river.
I long for her in my dreams and waking nightmares.
Slim body and a fruity classical scent.
The woman in my head, I see you in other dimensions, like my soul calling out, for you.
Where are you?
Woman in my head
I see you, in my dreams. If you read this, message me please.
I'm sat watching the world go by that all I seem to do these days for I have no desire to do anything
For life Is just not the same as it was once with my sweetheart but she gone now I accept that but it this emptiness
Don't think this feeling will ever go away and that the problem every day a struggle but have
to carry
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