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Traveler Jan 2020
Is there any buddy out there?

Am I the only one?

Could this be the end?

Is this site said and done?

Shall I post 1 million words and read them to myself

Shall I write 1 million poems and place them on a shelf

Within the womb
With in the mother
Have I yet to discover
Light beyond the darkness
Forcing me to breathe
Is there anybody out there
Or am I all alone
Life is but a dream
We cannot control
........
TT
Anna Shallow Jan 2020
My most precious memory of you is the last photo we took together.

Your gaze was calm and mesmerizing, full of intentions impossible to enumerate.

Your famous mischievous smile almost seemed innocent in contrast to your mocking tongue, which displayed the secret jewel that adorned it.

But that wasn't the boldest decoration of your body.

Some of it was born with you, like the three perfectly aligned birthmarks below your left eye. Others you decided to bring to light, like your fascinating and terrifying lilac eyes, and your silver hair, pieces of the moon Herself melting over your head.

You were bizarrely lovely.

Like a good dream that would make waking up sweeter, you became my most beloved fantasy.

It ran through your veins a natural drug that you secretly shared with me and the world would become colorful as a deranged kaleidoscope every time we started flying.

And then, tragedy.

The world turned into gray, the color of your new uniform and ugly handcuffs.

Never again did a fun day come, just new horrific scars.

They cut off your wings, bound your hands, and plucked what they called “your abominable eyes”.

Screams, cries, and revolts did nothing to save you. Soon, there was only silence.

Lost and desperate, I decided to imprison myself in the same darkness into which you were thrown, attempting to be united to you again.

That picture became a blade that cut deep into my brain as it reminded me of how beautiful our madness was.

So I became blind, just like you.

My sky never again had bright, endless lilac stars that colored my life.

We were forced to discover sanity is not so pleasant...
That Guy Dec 2019
ACT I
in a Gorgonopsid's mind, morning
oo, hungry
sniff ****
sniff sniff
no sniffkill
****
feed little
little cry hungry
little food me food
little cry moma
little no
food, ****, little
food **** food **** food ****

ACT II
in a dry grassland, afternoon
run hot run hot run hot run hot run hot
sniff ****
sniff sniff
SNIFF ****
RUN RUN **** RUN
SMALL HEAD!!
RUN RUN run run stop
hide
small head
hide crawl
no grass
...
.....
.......
RUN!!!
RUN **** RUN **** RUN ****
SMALL HEAD!
small head scream help, no help
JUMP
K  I   L     L
...
....
.....
ha ha, small slow head
food

ACT III
in the shade of a boulder, evening
little food
little eat
small yum head
good food
little sleep
...
good little

ACT IV
in the Gorgonopsid's den, night
hm?....
hot? night?
B     O      O      M
den crumbles
****!!
LITTLE
RUN RUN RUN RUN
OW!! FIRE!!
FIRE?! ROCK FIRE?!?
B   O   O   M
RUN RUN
SAVE LITTLE
SAV-
B     O      O      M
little cry moma
...
....
.....
......
fire

THE END
Gorgan moma and little have a lovely Sunday in the Permian era.
Kind of a weird one, just thought this was interesting
Bhill Dec 2019
Drama is one word
That one word takes over life
Can you control it

Brian Hill - 2019 # 316
Who's your favorite DRAMA Person?
aurelia Dec 2019
Your arms are wrapped around mine
My name is the one you call
When nightmares crawl on your back

and yet here I stand wondering
where did I go wrong
why am I
the one alone
aya Nov 2019
para sa mga pangako
na napako
para sa mga dati
na hindi ngayon
para sa mga sana
na wala nang pagkakataon
Sofia Rybkina Nov 2019
All our lives, we lose.

It is as natural, as living itself.


Losing a ticket you bought

to see a ballet performance

is saving you from its ugliness,

disappointment, squalor.

Losing a chance to see your beloved

is keeping you both from a fracas.


Every loss comes by with an undertone.

Existence itself is losing,

hour by hour, minute by minute

you lose your time, your life,

your organism.

What is it that's keeping us all here?

Isn't it simply a fear?


We cannot believe this world will stand,

years after years, centuries after centuries, without us.

This fear is what makes us human,

and losing is what makes us alive.
Sofia Rybkina Nov 2019
You
I look at you.

No one is more beautiful just because no one can replicate you,

copy you, be the way you are.

Your golden hair, your little pinky mouth may seem something of commonness, but your eyes contain such an inner sense no one is able to possess.

I love you. I've never met you, seen you or touched you, but I feel every inch of you

as if you were close to me, as if you were here.

The way you sing,

the way you move & smile makes me tremble every time I think of you.

You're the sunshine; the one I can never reach, the one I can never resist to admire.

Were you right next to me, maybe that inner beauty would have disappeared? Maybe you'd turn into an ordinary human being.

We'll never know.

I prefer you to stay this far from me, far enough to save that mystique of yours, that inner peculiarity & angelic essence.
Sofia Rybkina Nov 2019
To chose and be chosen,

These two never go together.

To love and be loved,

It's either fantastical or impossible.

We are victims of this nature balance

Watching from the above,

Making laugh of us.

Everything happens because of fate,

Or because of God,

We can never run our destinies.

A human heart is a sponge,

Absorbing tragedies and dramas.

A distant dream can make it alive again,

A single touch can make it tremble.

What if happiness is just a needle,

Pricking it every time we love?

Having no heart

Is either mythical or Utopian.

What are we, if not a blood clot,

A bunch of bones & meat?

Having a human heart

Is what makes us something else.

Human beings.
Sofia Rybkina Nov 2019
Years ago I heard a story

about a woman trying

to find herself, but

escaping herself instead.

It's been a long time since then,

and I still ask myself:

what does escape mean?


Changing your hairstyle, or

moving to another place

doesn't make you

a different person.

No one can escape

themselves, as far as

the ocean's blue,

and the Earth is round.


Years after years,

I'd come to realize,

I did succeed in escaping

My child self.

Peter Pan has flown away,

I am all grown up,

And I still ask myself:

What do I have left?
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