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Distant shores of France,
Toward you I advance,
Looking for your water.
The sun seems to beam down,
Oppressing the nearby town,
Where I sit talking to a doctor's daughter.
Her clothing looks so chic,
I dare the boy next to me to speak,
Enchanting him with my eyes.
Dare I say this is my place,
I run around the forest with haste,
Expecting a strange man to become wise.
I feel safe at the stump of a tree,
Imagining a family of three
Beautiful birds chirping in the sunlight.
What will happen to me when I get gray and old?
Will I remember the stories I once told,
The ones that brought me joy and fright?
I guess we will just have to see,
Go along with the processes that be,
Dreaming of our youth when it has gone.
I will always admire the country,
Looking upon the sea and its bounty,
Alongside the doctor's daughter until dawn.
I really want to visit France.
Needed what I never got --

got what no one should have --

now I yearn for what no one should,

and it hurts like
a dog tethered in the yard
barking its fool head off

and no one is coming home
Cassidy Apr 11
I've been saying that a lot recently,
not sure how to stop,
I'm okay
Just a little misplaced
Starting to think its really a
Personal Problem
Who the hell am I,
I'm back home and being sober
For a while
Trying my best to figure myself out
Before it's too late and that's all I have left to do.
These thoughts arent shocking
and aren't new
when I cry in the middle of the night
in the middle of my new bathroom
These thoughts are piled up like my ***** laundry that drives you
Like you, I miss who I was
But how can I give up
How much letting go can I do
In my Youth
before all of who I am to the world
is lost
to painful, past potentials?
I am afraid
what's happening
was always inevitable,
Because between the situational and unconditional
I don't know where we lie
so now I lie to myself
To feel a whisper of the warmth
to thaw this unrest of loneliness
and melt into my purpose, defined.
We settle into ourselves like sediment.
Often ruined and roused by the flurry of life,
pieces of our being are lost and misplaced — torn from their roots and thrown with careless abandon into the blackness.

But when things slow down, as they do every once in a while, your pieces will settle; you'll see them there, scattered, and piece them together from a bird's eye perspective.

We are our own God.
Our body the Earth.
Let the parts of yourself fly to the wind and take joy in seeing how they land.
Diesel Apr 5
At any moment death today
Will shiver coldly down my spine
What could be more? What would display?
If can't we see, or full of sight?

Does it suffer like what we draw?
Is there further than heaven's field?
Are the minds still ours to call?
Is there meaning serenely real?

Can they see all and tease our pain?
Or mock us when in random times:
Will they reveal their selfish games?
Or is it us that play with life?

Are we more than the souls that go
Like passioned men that march too soon:
What matters it when death the goal?
Or find out all the world consumes?
My rail tracks seem to have disappeared
Only the red autumn leaves seem to have covered
A cold melancholy in the air hovers
As I look beyond to see what uncovers

But the truth is that it is an endless journey
There’s no special place ahead, no sanctuary
Just the train, and the passing estuary
The destination seems lost, as I realise it was only imaginary.

Now I yearn for meaning.

What is this train journey,
Where is it leading?
Maybe it’s better to just hop off
And enjoy it from the beginning.
Enjoy the journey because there's no destination.
I want to stand,
on solid ground,

a canopy covered cloud,
to dream all day-round,

I want to live,
my best life,
and breathe,
like there's only,
I feel restless, when the sun settles
lost in the abyss, when darkness sets

but safe in the knowledge,
that to rise elsewhere,
my sun must set
M Salinger Mar 20
I'm sad.
And that's okay.

This heaviness in my heart
is not mine alone,
I carry it for my mother
and my father
and his mother

I carry it for her husband

to be our
but quickly became
the demon
sleeping in the

A stain.

Deep and bruised
like my heart
after that day
confused and
oh, so green

I was already shedding
my innocence,
but you stole

in one moment.

And for this

of unadulterated

her body,
something she feels

all because you thought
was your
to be played
It rose from dark void
A place lifeless and decrepit
Where even deities avoid
The 8 keepers in the centre

Like snakes they trap so tight
To pull you into the tarry abyss
Even toothless they grip like a bite
And leave a crimson circle kiss

Like a badge of honour that's deeper than just skin
To escape the waves of a stormy star sea
And like a captain that's never seen the terrors within
The only way to delay the inevitable is to flee

The celestial bodies act like sand in an hourglass
An unstoppable whirlpool of singularity
Like a drain-pipe of light that shows nothing will ever last
With hourglass bottom down in eternal eventuality

Just like the most brutal storm there is always an end
The 8 keepers are encroaching on all there will ever be
Using reality like a wet map that will tear and bend
The sea of existence will settle forever in entropy

It rose the dark void
And all is lifeless and decrepit
Because nothing could ever avoid
The 8 keepers in the centre
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