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sushii Apr 22
For once, the day was okay.
For once, my soul wasn't at dismay.
For once, the sky wasn't gray.

The darkness had faded into happiness,
And the sun came back to life.
The garden was no longer filled with dreariness,


And I
Began to live

Once more.
Bohemian Feb 24
Under you pockets deep,
Has dwindled your wishes' screech.
Watch out,
Let me get you a mirth very meek.
harley r noire Oct 2018
for i long to see the
grand golden hues
of fresh daylight
and soft rosy blush
of early twilight—
the sunlit seas
and moonlit wilderness—
deathless bliss in a pair of
serene ebony irises—
i stay put on the ground
with my scarred feet—
battling the thunder,
the gale, the avalanche—

for you—for me.
i'd go through thunderstorms just to be able to see rainbows in your irises, for that would make me happy too. in this, i say that i also want to be happy, for i deserve it. mainly written for a crush, yet i also intend to dedicate this to my family and friends, for i'd die for their happiness.
Christian Aug 2018
Oh, how our petals fall
from the depths of our eyes;
the reminiscence of our small
and warmly stricken sky.

Oh, how it crumbles mutely
striking hard upon the earth;
the ground now bleeds acutely
and still, we drown in mirth.
How we smile despite our pains love.
harley r noire Jul 2018
the canvas is yours
and you shall not let others
paint it all pitch black
i tried to write a haiku, and it turned out to be a happy one. i wish you the best of life, always. all the love!
Bryce Jun 2018
Sometimes my vision starts to vibrate
Back and forth,
Like the firmament of reality
Is ripping apart into dreams
And I wonder if one day it'll go
All the way
And I'll just zoom off into some strange bruise of blue
And purple-black
Heart attack

Reading HR on the wall
Thinking how far we have to fall
Feeling the pleasant rush of air
Run across my free cheeks

And I keep blinking,
Thinking that if I just want a little more
Push a little more
Maybe the word will crack open the rains of fortune
And whisk me away like an egg

Grinding my fingers against the tree,
Trying to eat at the bark
Like a little ******
But not so wrong, honestly.

I find more often than not
When I oft retreat into enclosed thought,
Stepping stones across the pond
Of reality,
I dream of something that could never be.

Like a stone,
Crashing into a celestial dome
Only a fraction of an inch
And destroying wholly
All things that called it home.

Clawing deep at wormword
Blood on fingers, blood and hand
To fall ever softly toward the beautiful
******
To some perfect miracle.
Bryce May 2018
And I gave my First Snowglobe to them.
…And When I had given that to them, I had told him to give me a gift in return that may have more to itself than just simple life.  

“Inahah oona sept amni kquestal”.

Yet I had no other thing to give, this broken soul, beyond more than just flesh, I was naught. And so she had nothing more to me than that of the great overtone, the great silence of the earth, of space, her arms stretching invisible to hold our gaze to her innumerable foreign light show and state--

Perhaps there is another lover of soul somewhere within?

And he said simply to me, that there is someplace for me to be, someone for me to see-- that there was innumerable and inexplicable, incalculable and incomprehensible, powerful and overwhelming deterministic fate that guides my eyes, lets me chose without choosing, think without thinking, know without knowing.

And he knew—and she knew—and they knew with a knowing that I can never know; true and whole and unspoken, I can only dream to describe.

"We made the world for us, for you."

And I felt their love radiate that ferrous heart, steeled with centuries of pain and removal, heated by the ***** of her truth and guided by the loving, tender hand of his true brilliance that blinded and pleasured my aching eyes.

The entire web of the cosmos, in my eyes, dreaming and thinking that maybe I’d be back there one day, whole, float-- bool and cruelty of world inconsequential within the vast expanse of everything—

A powerful, emanative, restorative code of the universe that held itself no information but all, no hate but the misidentified ache of longing love, differed from the soul of the grinding earth—so far away from god through sickly skin and broken bone that without expanding into time and vaporizing into pure light, these feelings which we can never know.
Leal Knowone Jan 2017
A silken rope of phrases
   ailuranthrope blood tasted
   Sweet salt of the earth

   The dark minded misanthrope
   lycanthrope with ****** noise
   could always be worse

   Now i'm just a  broken rope
   of the wagon, on the boat
   been sinking since birth

   I want to forsake this  curse
   travel through time on this earth
   longing loving mirth

A haiku trapped in mundane
A perfect body
I lust for your  gorgeous brain  

Surround me with your splendor
help the broken see
and find a way to mend her

   This world it may betray us
   and you may find you hate it
   but it could be worse

   Broken bones on dusty throne
   lone failure and  cheap cologne
   I can see the hearse
  
   Passing through, heart still with you
   Now I'm done, let us review  
   Empathy in you
  
   Did you know you were my worth?
   The meaning of my rebirth
   no greater on earth
Bren Sep 2016
Because she was made of tiny little particles,
Full of life and mirth,
A beautiful constellation,
That was her.
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