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Allyssa 19h
It's almost poetic,
The way we give ourselves to others without a second thought,
Just so we could feel something,
Other than the holes in our chests.
The aches our hearts give us,
Craving the touch of the one we want most,
To be held,
To be loved,
To be wanted.
So, we give our flesh,
To appease the longing we crave,
In hopes of quieting the demons that claw their way out at night,
Creating craters in the no-mans land we call our love.
To love freely,
To be loved freely,
Is such a beautifully terrifying thing.
Isn't it?
We offer our flesh to the ones who will take it in hopes of filling the overgrowing void in our hearts.
preston Sep 28

In one fell swoop, spirit swung low to the ground
as flesh;  rose up from the dirt-clod soil to meet it

and then to receive  into it
it's self,  into a home  that can feel..

      the necessary infant-like growing

      as it learns how to integrate flesh and spirit
      as it takes in, love

      the necessary separation

      from love's human bonds.. its human bounds
      so that it can hold pure, its own integration

      the necessary return to love

      as it finds within the parameters  of its own, earth-borne flesh..
      limitations in its ability to aptly house its own spirit.

But sometimes
the flesh can become hurt  by a fallen form of love
which in turn, hurts its ability to integrate  itself with spirit
And so, it   feels within itself--

      the pathological need

      to manifest its own  perceived needs
      as having precedence over that of the spirit

      the pathological need

      for deception.. and self-aggrandizement, a word-formed image..
      a manufactured presentation of its own spirit's, integration

      the pathological need

      to shift the truth..  so that its own game  remains, intact
      to avoid the truth,  in order to perform its own kind of sweep

But there are those who overcome, in their  remembrance
of the sweep..   and the spirit, before flesh's  union
in the desire for spirit to become tangibly felt,  
here,  in the land of the living--

For love  to become made,  manifest
through the integration of flesh's death,  into life
so that spirit can finally tangibly  feel

    and then tangibly  choose

    its own access back in to life, leading directly to
    its own way  back home.

Things look so bad everywhere
in this whole world, what is fair?
We walk the line and try to see..
falling behind in what could be.

Bring me a higher love
Carlo C Gomez Sep 12
I begin anew
I begin with you

You are my isthmus
You are my tombolo

You connect me
You ground me

To this place
To this duration

One heart
One love
"Catalina" means a girl that makes you realize how amazing life is, and how every day prior to meeting her, seemed like a day wasted.
glass in my foot
thought i walked on clouds
a penny and a dime
what's my purpose here now?
weakness in my flesh,
but strength in my soul
scouring my insides
for something that i've never
even known
Bind a river
Burning and wild,
Tame the stream
And colour me red.

Touch and ***** and chew the flesh
Chain my wrist and paint thine stench

Seat me on the bed and hail
A pale body, hair dipped in red
Dance in frenzy and scream and wail

Sew the wings in her flesh
And call her an angel!
Constructing an angel!
Prevost Aug 10
And when the flush
hearts orbit each other
until gravity collapses the barriers
and you the fall
with strands of passion and sinew
writhing twisting pulsing
your desires out of you
….into you
alive in the fire of the flesh
the soul and the corporeal
a unison offering sense of the two
oh…. but for the trespass
of the heart
Something about immortality fascinates me!
But I realized that I don't need science or cryogenics,
Because when this flesh is finished,
I'll still have these words I wrote living.
When I leave this life,
I'm gonna leave behind,
The fruit of this eccentric mind!
yes, neither is white.

these two no-colors are

all I know. my palette


you say



flesh is just space between black and white

colorless for those with open minds.

open hearts.

open minds.

opened eyes.

the truly free,

the blind.
I don’t know how to love
My heart cries everyday for you
It stings with the needles that your words create
Your actions burn like fire in my tender skin
My eyes swim in rivers of regret
I see you with contempt
But love you with life
My brain bites the sound of your song
Every night I long for you in my arms
Slowly, the gravity of your presence kills me
It shatters my soul and carves my wounds
My flesh kindles in the flame
That you stir with one glance
Only you quench the ache that you create
I would die for you
But you would **** me first
Love is tangled in between
I don’t know how to love
Your appetite is gaping.. huge,
and I lie down to feed just you.
With all this sacred flesh and bone,
what can I long to do alone?

The world around is not enough,
for those who like to play so rough.
To dismember all my sense of self,
would be to trickle back through hell.

All that glitters is not gold.
Endless image fills the mold..
and your stomach, where my heart lies.
Dive back in, and take a bite.
Is love true.. or do we simply consume?
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