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Z Aug 1
36
Her breath was halcyon
We were my axiom;
I was her peace

Piecing pictures out of nothing
Pretty words, I caught her bluffing
Then the release
San-Pei Lee Jul 8
No matter the dreams you have
I'd shift the stars to align them with mine
But if your purpose leads you far from me
For however long, I'd wait for your return ever patiently

If you ever find yourself lost at sea
I'd dive in to keep your soul company
My shadow rippling against the white of the moon
Even during the halcyon nights of winter

Because on our hearts
Flutters a matching pair of wings
Wherever you are
As long as you're willing, I will always follow
The fire is burning within me
Unable to drawn out
Unable to elude.
It’s getting evil
With all your annoyance.
And I’m crying out loud
Seeking for your presence,
Part of me wants to destroy you
And a part of me wants you back.
I’m lost in the path of love,
And no more halcyon.
I’m screaming out your name thunderously
In the desire of your presence.
Retrieving all our boneheaded conversations
Thinking what kind of squander I was doing.
I’m preoccupied by telling myself
Not to give you an opportunity
To break my heart again.
As I’m taken away from all your botheration  towards me.
Well ,There’s so much of me inside
Which you left undiscovered.
Perhaps you were never curious for me.
And I was being the one running after you constantly.
And keeping you firm with me.  
But now.
I’m dying
I’m hurt.
While,
You’re diligent in watering
Someone else’s flower.
The fire is burning within me!
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Remembering hurt.
Designations of dirt.
Crawling, knee and nail.
Dessicated herbs.
Resignation of worth.
Stretching for the bag.

I've seen how this ends.

Up in smoke.
Dreaming delight.
Up in smoke.
Dreaming delight.

How long will this pattern run?
Up until the day is done.
How long will this pattern run?
Up until the day is done.

For any calm from halcyon,
I need

to burn
the herb.

I've seen
how this
ends.

Up in smoke.

(...)
Thank you for reading.
Kaoru Tomoe Feb 2017
I fell from Heaven
Say good bye, halcyon days
For I'm a sinner
Experienced Heaven only to have sinned and fallen back to Earth...
Paolo Garcia Jul 2016
Rhythm & Beats, take me over
Go through my temple
   through skin-deep,
   through my bones
             release your voice, EDM whispers

Tickle my bones,
    dance with me
    with your electric,
         wavey hands

Release my intense feelings,
     trigger every part of me,
       my hormones, my body
                   help me
                           *feel it
I wrote this while listening to the song "This Is What You Came For" by Calvin Harris Ft. Rihanna.
Epi Arias Jun 2016
We walk this stretch of boughs and codes and books and roses, and that final nothing bell.

We will walk past the Perimeter together. We will then look into each other's eyes and say:

"we have been here through and through, there is nothing left to fear,"
born a new in this.

Because when the winter energy leaves us, our palms will sweat dynamic;
we will speak words clear in the precise interest of this layered afternoon.

The moon, we'll know her name,
at once, truly, and the treasures
of the world's infinite numbers
will reveal themselves to our unbroken gaze.
Epi Arias Jun 2016
Its onus bleached and unexamined, downcast trawl of stars, determining sequences of sallow light-bleed from boredom spiders.

Rehearsed discontinuity
like a flavor that stings,
This creature now surmounts
the threshold of impossible things though it floats in a constellation
seen, surely, by no one,
unpatterned, wily, of no ilk to suppress, Its grip intention beyond mere silence.

This is the uncontemplated motion
of a cancion that glasses interstellar windows with firetone maneuver of unman origin, deafness delivered into the Incontrovertible, inaction spying sound-worth, treble releasing defeat.

In an hour, it unwaits for scale to disclose the often chipped-tooth of truce in the unholy mouth, the grid, that breeds life into scandal.
Epi Arias Jun 2016
Poetry is all about Special:
about eyelashes burning crisply into the fold of a blink,

about transcribing a telegram from Cue to Distortion
in the hopes that it may read the same,

about tap-dancing on dry tongues with wet floor signs
in the lemon-light that crests
like a ghost-light that rests
in the eternally silent and long-winded applause
of a lonely theater stage that sighs nightly,

about unsticking and re-sticking the colors of a Rubik's cube rather than rearranging
the asymmetry of anything,

about conversations ranging from
the specifics of Bic razor insights had at Six Flags or Cape Canaveral to
the more general notion implicit in the futility of martyrdom,

about repetition, calculated bombast, and predilection,

about the grinning past, or brushing off of, the instant cavities,
or mouth sores of gossip,

about that terribly overdone and interactive lack of completion
Epi Arias Jun 2016
She picks up
her paintbrushes,
her underwear,
her several toothbrushes, and combs.
But maybe she’ll stay. Maybe she’ll stay anyway.

The flowers,
aging desperately upon the kitchen table,
she finally discards,
the overdue water,
the crackling crossword puzzle.

I can hear the rustling,
the thud, the shivering accordion paper from across the room.
But maybe she’ll stay.
Maybe, she’ll play hopscotch in me.
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