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Is that danger in the distance?
Or do my eyes deceive?


Like dark clouds
gathering above mountains.
Like how the young see their futures.

(Though it's not like the world hasn't been ending
this entire time.

In billions of years the sun will explode.
In hundreds, our planet will be just dust and stone,
and the bones of industry.
And at my rate
I'll self-destruct by sixty years of age.

But) what is this thing that sticks and stings
and irks
like a mirage?

Not the flavor of fingers dipped in deliciousness.
Not the freshness of a newborn babe.
Not the scent of flowers.
Not feet in a hot bath.
Not fumbling a lovers face,
frolicking through foxglove fields,
flitting a fiery frevo,
finishing first.

none of that.

It's not a thing,
but a feeling.


And it sticks and stings
and irks,
like a mirage.

by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet
I have returned.

Make sure to follow my profile to keep up with my new works. For extras, please check out my Instagram, @alekthepoet
Words' Worth Nov 18
Have you forecasted a glimpse into tomorrow's
Embarrassment and read the paper
Only to have the headlines say it is going to rain

That's how my life is like without the dough
Without the rainbows, petrichor
It is an endless flood of melancholic pain

****, it's winter
Not the pompous fellow.
She looked outside
where it was
gray and dreary
cloudy and
about to rain
what a fitting day
for a girl
who was lost
in her own storm
and couldn't find her way
little lion Oct 12
God, what did I do to deserve such a
lonely and hallow existence,
trudging along such a dreary path
with a soul so heavy and beaten
that it is too hard to love?

Why am I so hard to love?
Chels Sep 25
You are my pain killer
I've enjoyed every moment
Intoxicated by your effect
Now, I'm suffering.
Traveler Sep 24
Time is but a nagging measurement
Kinetic forces, inertia unleashed
Every birthday now forth
One year closer to entropy

Deformity of my spirituality
Preserve my heart in wine
The calamity of my existence
Chaotically divine

My charity dreary
My energy empathy drains
As I share your agony
To ease your suffering

I seek refuge
Alone in the wilderness
Drawing faces on the moon
Deities behind the clouds
Here wayward creature
Are solemnly set a fowl
Traveler Tim
Moth Sep 7
the sky hangs low
with a dark shroud
as the wind picks up
and blows light away
as the ground shifts
and the trees shake
when rain holds its breath
before they fall down
in this dreary day
we walk in whispers
rushing inside and away
from the misty chill
Archer Apr 7
I don't feel real
There is no substance
Just a sublimate
Where I once stood
I know I was there
I can't know for sure
Grey rings wispy
Long sought touch
It never happened
Where have I gone
In my haste
I have forgotten
Days strung together
A daisy chain
Of moments
Lingering in my head
That I no longer cling to
Oh well
Nothing I can do now
Bryce Sep 2019
Standing upon a terminal of the Pacific,
I am as calm as the waves.
As the sun falls
The colors gradient and gasp an infinite breadth
Of nothingness between the bowing photons.

I am dreary and blue,
Blue as lapis,
Listening to the waves that make no sounds--
But the sifting sands on the edge of the earth.

There is haze on this day,
And the light asks me to see it differently
Than all the days before
It calls to me, an empty voice, saying to me

That it carries the birds
And the winds
And the gulls
And the sins
Of my friends and brothers who live amongst the hills
And dine amongst the trees
And cry together between their sheets

Of metal and mold
Plastic and cold,
The earth gives me a shiver upon my skin.

In this everything,

I am lost.

In this moment,

I am skin.

On the border of the horizon that cuts
The oceans and the air
Ships without sails fight the gales and win,
Coming to rest in their deliverance.
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