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A Marie 7d
please come to me i have
nothing else
i need something
anything.

fill my mind with a
valley
a bounteous valley
fertile, full of prosperity,
clarity, calamity, tranquillity ...

but my mind is a
desert
a dry wasteland
nothing to express or nurture
not even
desire.

please come back to me
desire
i want to want to want to want to want to want to want
to desire.

                                     otherwise, i have Nothing.
Romann Sep 10
(Your) lips remain in my mind, and there’s more that I long to see.
Or am I just entangled in the entrancing web of desire?

Your smile is still hypnotic.
I saw all of you, yet I still want more.
Who cares if we just met? We’d be great together! I know so…?

Please, take away my seal.
You, her, someone…
Anyone…?
I can't seem to get these thoughts out of my head... is there something wrong with me?
because loving you was like understanding that man can feel both anger and desperation at the same time

and being with you means being in constant wait for the moment where all this would be worth the damn wait
9/2/18. still alive
Maaheen Aug 21
I asked you why did you let it go
He said it was a burden
And now he is trying to get it back
Man, You're not gonna get my garden
Romann Aug 19
I may be tied to you by blood
But that does not excuse your behavior.
Maybe spelling it out will make it stick:

If you just won’t understand what we say…
That people want things done a certain way
(Or done at all),
Then maybe the problem is in you after all.

If you’re not going to take
Responsibility for your own mistakes
Yet criticize others when they do
I want nothing to do with you.

People can change. They can be forgiving.
So, I’ll tell you once more:
Why won’t you accept what we’ve been saying?

I’ll be ready to meet you halfway.
Be honest, and remember what you swore
For once, and maybe I’ll tolerate what you say.
Sometimes, having things in common with someone does not mean you'll get along. It doesn't mean you have to be so... heartless about it. I'm trying my best... why won't you?
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It's at the point of desperation that the soul finds its deepest desire,
and in that desire lies everything of which true life is made.
Perhaps the first and central question concerning surrender
ought not to be, “What am I willing to give to God?”
but “What am I willing to receive from Him?”

For it's only in the realization that I have nothing to give Him and
He has everything to give me that true humility and surrender come.
If I would simply receive all He offers me and let Him fill me up
I would have no room in my hands to hold onto anything else.  
But how often it is that we won't receive it until everything else is lost.

It's the secret and inexpressible dreams of the soul
which are the hardest things of all to let go and the last to go.
When they are finally gone we have nothing left to run to but Him,
and when we do we find that He is the beginning,
the end and the center of every secret dream.

Ah, blessed Peniel—that mysterious and holy ground
where heartache collides head-on with romance,
that deep and shadowed land where we struggle
with God and with men and we overcome,
that painful yet glorious place which we may leave limping
with a wrenched hip but we do not care, for we have seen God’s face—
like Jacob, may we not pass you by without being forever changed.
Genesis 32

***
we lost ourselves in ourselves.
footprints in the snow only led us
back to where we’d started.

i don’t know how you managed
to talk your way out of that one.
(a draft from my upcoming book “self portrait”)
RBWhite Aug 14
Have you heard about the news?
A glow of light is bursting out of my scalp,
Did you read the new story?
About a little pain so great that very few can tell it well,
Is it tempting to reach a black and red bottom?
As infinite as it is, I keep on falling apart,
If you can't reach out to answer,may I at least have one more question?
The desperation of a killer in love with his victim.
Tommy Randell Aug 12
up though concrete bursts the weed
driven to escape the earth
a young white worm breaching into clear air

back down into the brain digs the worm
baring naked the roots of things long dessicated
the cause and causations of ontic self deceptions

there is murder in there and murder more
philosophies of blaming one's self for it all
the corruption that sits everyday on the back of the tongue

there is self harm and insightful immolations
trapped in the fossil scars of cigaette burns
borne like trophies from some childhood war

as some thoughts need the light of day
Love batters like a moth
against the dark windows of it's soul
There is no explanation for this.
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