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Sam Knaus Nov 2014
I carry my doubt, worry, fears out to your truck but leave them in the passengers seat.
For this moment, I am alive.
I gaze out towards the orange and brown trees, tinted with a red as deep as the love I feel for you. Walk towards the wind, my hair rustles with the leaves and you laugh as my cheeks turn pink from the cold. Sit out on a dock and overlookinh a lake straight from a painting, I am alive. I can see the green horizon and the reflections of branches in the water, over hills and under grass, if you look just a little farther, you'll find you and me, because we're so alone in this moment and I can finally breathe because I feel so free. I lean into the wind, fall back against the dock and sigh, a smile on my face, the lake looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue plane. I am alive. I am breathing, and for once I don't hate the fact that I am. This sno-berry tea carries the taste of longing that, if elsewhere, I can only get from your lips, and I love it. I am an addict itching for a fix of release from reality and instead of my normal methods, I found it in you.
Feat. "I Wish You Were Here"- Incubus; "The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds strewn across a blue plane."
ryn Oct 2014
Are we fated to dance to the same tune alone in our separate universes?
Is it true that we must silently keep to our preordained curses?

Are we destined to swoon at the beauty of the moon at differing time slots?
Why were we given invisible ink to connect our lives' dots?

Must it be that our lives revolve around the whims of the sun?
Isn't it ludicrous that we won't see the intricate webs we've spun?

Was it the plan that we exist only in our minds and hearts?
Why do we have to tolerate starting when the other's ending and end at the other's starts?

Has it been written that we can only afford to infinitely chase each others heartbeats?
Was it foretold that we're trapped in a singular notion that never really fits?

Is the game set as such that we can never emerge as winners?
How is it that the ocean was made out of our tears that flowed from rivers?

Why is it that with our entirety we believe but do not know?
What's the reason for the path made clear but we're too afraid to go?

What does it entail to possess the very least but yet you covet it the most?
How do you pride yourself in something but not allowed to boast?

Why do we frantically scramble to piece together jagged shards?
Can't we just play this blasted deck of lousy cards?

Is it destiny or cruelty to have found then lost?
Why does it seem absurd that we have all its takes but can't afford the cost?

Is it the thoughts that **** or the emotions that debilitate?
Is it the challenges we take on or the curveballs we anticipate?

Why bother when sheer folly is all it seems to be?
Why tarry when the heart is free and the mind is ready?

Is it ridiculous to have found myself still very bothered?
Is it wrong to question fate that had always bound us tethered?

Why is the good always bad and the bad becomes worse?
Is it true that the harder we fight, the deeper we immerse?

Has life turned to be but sad little rhetorics?
Are we but performers on stages coerced into theatrics?

Is it time for me to surface this one-man submarine?
Will it be so that if I do, my journey would then begin...?
A host of rhetorical questions from my older writes...

"Surface this one-man submarine"  isn't mine... It's Brandon Boyd's.
Taken off Incubus' " Love Hurts"
Nicole Guevara Sep 2014
My love, glides with cunning ease
Mockingly, provoking, faintly…
An incubus feeding off those who tease
As a freezing breeze gropes the unclothed remains saintly .

My greedy yearning, desires nothing less, but to drain
To fill the vast pitiless appetite of  bittersweet sin.
That sultry incubus is the only to blame
Each hasty face, each unknown sigh, recognizably invited in.

My crimson intimacy, defies a settled truce
Between two famished predators hesitantly hoping
To finally attain the succulent, lukewarm, juice
Attempting, clenching onto composure; groping.

Facing each other,  a mirrored image of one another
Unmoved by the lingering aromas of the, Other.
Steve D'Beard Jul 2014
Incubus.
The male demon inside my head
The astral constellation
satellites off the shores of Pluto
a cold crushed diamond
hurtling in hyperspace
sparkling in rotation
silently spoken
the unspoken,
the uttered,
the muttered and the said.

Gas formations spiral
the nebula of new world creations
happening beneath the cobalt sky
the unanswered questions
am I even here
and if so,
why?

Gravity.
Descends me
push and pulls me
the ground holds me
reaching for the stars
just beyond my grasp

Space.
That vacuum
******* the corners of imagination
and the lost voices of childhood
running free in the long grass
of colourful dreams.

In the blur I see you
moving slightly amid plucked strings
and vintage wallpaper
the garden of candles
flickering in the near light.

The incubus of devilment
and stolen words
to yet reveal themselves
the forgotten fragrance
of yesterday's radiance
never forgotten
just a short solar burst away
from Proxima Centauri.

I'll get there,
eventually.
Elijah Corbeau May 2014
You see that? Moonbeams. The path is lit lightly.
My hand grazes yours. You reach for it tightly.
Its dark. You knew that. But I spoke so softly,
It slipped past your ears then eased all your fears
So we went walking.

There’s silence, stillness. Can you hear the cool breeze?
Slowly draw still, for there's an end to the trees.
But I've been here before and you can't ignore
That subtle night wind and the scent of warm skin
Will you have a seat, please?

It starts with that sitting. The liking of kind.
It will end with you writhing, out of your mind.
But we aren't there yet, so don't you forget
That these games are for two, (...Just who are you?)
and you can feel us... pulsing in time.

The night is bright, thick. The air is slowing, thus heavy.
I don’t say any words, we know that you’re ready.
There dashes tongue. Ah, You think you’re the one-!
You gasp. Pull your hair, in my grasp
You feel below and it is true, solid and steady.

Relax. You won’t fall, these arms steady all.
Keep breathing, let go. Your voice, stalls
Taken in, so you win. Is this what they call sin?
You so, so wanted, so I came to you undaunted
By anything other than lusts call.

Is that your voice? Darling, why can’t you speak?
I’m not even close, but have you hit your peak?
Ah, you shake. Some small little body-quake.
But you are not won! Oh this is so fun!
You’ll smell of this *** for weeks.

Then I ask, “Are you done?”, No response, stunned.
Glazed, unmoving. Somehow you were one?
I’ve done it before. Yes, there will be more for
I’ll never be satisfied, but should I not try?
As I move back from the coming sun.
It's kind of like twilight!

— The End —