Awoken I receive a sight of celestial beauty,
Awoken, I gracefully lie safe in your affable aurora,
Awoken, our fluent dance of both heart and mind appears only eternally foreseeable.

Awake, the mere construction of you dwindles,
It was just a dream, I should have known.

Molly 2d
Up

I still see her from time to time. Or rather, I see the effects of her. An old rope swing swaying gently on a windless day; birds singing her favorite song; tree branches bending beneath her meager weight as
she climbs up, up, up,
as high as her little legs will take her.
And I imagine her sitting at the very top, waving to me as I stand down below.
And her smile is as big as the world she left behind.

mjad 2d

You are fading
People crowding over you
I refuse to let go of the memory
It's still there only vaguely
A wisp of your voice
your eyes
your hair
It's all barely there
I see a beautiful blonde and green mix
A voice hard to identify
But it's yours for sure
I need more
It is a desire
A mental wanting
It's all I can do
I need more of you

She ran through the sand
one eye closed
one eye squinting
I need the towel she says
half laughing
a wave hit me
right
in
the face!
I hand her the towel
I'm laughing
a laugh thats real
I can feel it vibrate
in my chest
Thats the place
you feel it most
when its real
And when shes done
I pull her face down
to mine
and press my lips
to her forehead
tearing up secretly
behind my sunglasses
because I am
so god damned happy
and she pulls away
and runs back
to the water
chasing the waves
toward the sea
and running away
as they chase her back
to the shore

I wonder which one is more than truth
Memory has a touch or
Touch has a memory.....?
Memory is as old as time

It is a summer night
The Moon is rising white and casting a shadow of an old soul
on the grass bed of the reading space of our home
Is it me...who grow older with the Moon,
or it's just the shadow that grows taller with the time?

The shadow sways alone endlessly with the Michael Bublé song
She is lighter on her feet
Memory touches her veins, blood and thoughts
She remembers every bit of small things

She stares at the Moon with deep affection
as if she is her lost best Friends
We say Moon is our Loyal companion
Who knows is she the loneliest.....?
Does she see all of us with her eyes full of surprises?
I keep Talking to the Moon.....

~ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZm-LBMbxH4 :-)

They don't go down easy
these words meant to soothe
they'll come back up later
with bile
churning and roiling

"asleep"?
"peaceful"?
platitudes!

"time heals"?
banality!

like the hapless frog
suspended in his jar
awaiting the curious blade
of the laboratory scholar

this unnatural heap of flesh
sucked dry
then
pumped with chemicals
smeared with freakish makeup
collects the gawking stares

or the brief furtive glances

"Look!"
my mind shrieks
you came to look
but
you don't see

Memories
you say

This memory
this scene
this awkward scene
will play in my mind
like the test pattern
on old TV's

fixed there
humming its eerie monotone
in
black and white

I have always hated the idea of trying to make a dead body look "good".
I remember when my dad died people saying "he looks good" ...I wanted to scream "He doesn't look good! He looks dead!"
I plan to be cremated.
Ormond 3d

( Sonnet )

My love beamed back to heavens overrun,
In a field where we stood so held in light,
As radiance teemed, our crown of sun
And never again was any day so bright.

Never were flowers too alive, so moving,
As we, they blanketed the fields of youth,
A memory set in starlights of blooming,
Our innocence eternal, O such beauty!

But bliss became loss caged in that one day
And light was shed from a gift to a sorrow,
Luster of dream, once held, now so faraway,
Only memories of image, dim light to borrow,

How spark of bliss fades in young sun, so soon
Lovers overrun, once held, in fields of bloom.

Like always…
It’s sweet to listen to you,
to have a tea with the past,
dig up an old memory or two
like a box of old photographs,
smile, talk, tease, giggle
and make fun of the world
(You were always funny
just the way I like)

Then we’ll walk away
towards opposite ends,
I don’t know about you anymore,
But I love to relive my past.

Time doesn't change everything
as people sometimes say
time changes the seasons
from warm to cold
and
back again

the dark of night
to
light of day

as it changes a child's height
so does it often alter
a grownup's girth

time may change one's hair
to white
or
silver-gray

and carve wrinkles in the skin
steps may slow
and
memory wane

but most are who they are
and
will remain

"after changes upon changes
we are more or less the same."*

* Quote from "The Boxer" by Simon & Garfunkel

Tick. Tock. Two hundred down.
Pulp.
Swindled minds flock
so easily into their cages,
sealed vents pushing gas into their lungs.
Carpenter's masterpiece.
Hooks hanging from walls,
bloodied chains supporting old bones.
Rot.
Mirror image rooms kept secret, filled
with decay and trapped ghosts. The neon
sign flickering. 'Hotel'.
Pulling the moths in with its fire,
ready to burn them.  

Tick. Tock. Twenty seven around.
Confession.
The drugs were inefficient -
they never slept forever.
I had to help them get there. I was born
with the devil in me
and he sings like a poet in the shadow of evil.
Gruesome.
I feel their blood on my hands and I enjoy it.

Tick. Tock. Nine were found.
Possession.
"Satan corrupted me, controlled me."
"Innocent."
"I am imprisoned within myself, I swear."
"He made me."
The lever is flipped, I fall.
My neck does not snap.
Instead, I struggle, the air being forced
from my body. Darkness comes
after the fond memory of a knife in my hand
and blood on the walls of my murder castle.

~~ Grim inspiration taken from a serial killer. ~~
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