kiana 19m
the tree harbours her little leaves
grinning as they mingle
and dance about in the warm breeze
one little leaf shook more than usual
catching the tree's attention
the tree turns her branch
as the green leaf adjusts positions
the tree asks 'what is it, my child?'
'what is making you shiver?'
the little leaf shrugs, but replies
'I'm tired of swaying in one spot, sacred mother'
the tree is taken aback; syrup gone cold
'what's wrong with swaying here?'
the leaf sighs, ready to fold
'I'll never see the world, and that is what I fear'
the tree slouched, nodding her head
'I birthed you to love, not to fear'
the leaf felt a tug, her stem coming loose
'explore the world. happy flight, my dear'
the leaf smiled at the news
feeling the wind in her petal
she waved goodbye to her mother tree
as she took flight
in the heat of the night
a little spark of happiness in my moment of darkness.
I was awake drifting towards the boundaries of dreams
I was still awake when fragmental phosphenes
broke through my closed eyes replacing
the black with cracked computer screen
pale green horizontal lines

Half sleep held my body captive
to this digitized dream like simulation
crossing the threshold of stimulation overload
my screams turned to ones & zeros of a noiseless code

I resetted to black, then it begin
      again &

The tossing & turning of my humanity
unplugged me back to reality

I think
The terror doesn't come from being in a dream, but believing that you are awake the whole time, that each false awakening is real and maybe you are not dreaming at all, just losing your grip on what reality is.
On an old windowsill of a crooked windowpane in a beaten house
Lies a window-moth on a dirty window cloth.
drained, defeated, and done
Time and again,
It tattered its wings and shattered its face,
plunged at the glass, losing its grace.
She's drawn to a dim light
spilled through a cracked window
into the darkness of the room.
Like a waking terror of the night,
With one half there and the other out of sight.
Hallucinating a pathway through fantasy
  Seeking clarity in rays of insanity
Contained by a glass and wooden frame.
painfully numb,
with an urge to move forward
A consuming obsession,
to make it to the Moon.
That lambent orb in the skies
A brilliant ball full of lies
Ignorant to the impenetrable mass,
or the number of miles between the moon and glass.
No matter how much it desires,
No matter how much it tires,
No matter how large the power of will,
The glass is unbreakable,
the goal unattainable,
The truth unbearable.
The Godforsaken feeling,
of seeing, and believing,
yet never achieving.
inspired by night terrors, where one is conscious in sleep and can do almost nothing to get away. Reminds me of a moth chasing a light, unaware of the glass window keeping it there
stranger 13h
It's been weeks since I put a drop of perfume on my skin
I used to love it.
Now days it feels useless.
I feel like the scent of dream tears and sweaty worries would follow me no matter what I cover my skin with.
I take more showers wishing I'd feel better.
And the calming scent lasts until memories catch up to me.
It feels useless but I'll put perfume on tomorrow... And wait for the scent to slowly dissappear again
I didn't ask for any of this,
the day when you came into my life.
little by little, you filled up those empty space inside of me

and that's the reason why I love you;
out of seven million people living in this world,
your breathtaking soul was my favorite.
I was sitting in front of the steering wheel again
It was very dark outside
The night was back
But without stars in the sky
Many stars are hiding behind the clouds
But this one star was not hiding
She showed herself
She was not afraid
Because she knows
That all stars in the sky
Beautify the empty night.
M 1d
Each night she hears his voice among the trees;
he calls her to those long-forgotten hills,
and there they dance amid the summer breeze
to croons of midnight loons and whippoorwills.
They waltz beneath a hazy southern sky
as long as night will play for them its strains
of lilting breaths and cattail lullabies
to dull the sound of sorrow that remains.
For there is anguish in his gentle sway;
his downcast eyes do not reflect his mirth,
as one can not determine his own way
while feet are planted firmly in the earth.
He's bound to where his roots have dug down deep,
and that is why this poor old willow weeps.
GreenTrees Dec 2013
Two shadows cast down a winding trail under a sleepy moon's gaze
Like waking from a night of slumbering under heavy winter blankets, plumes of smoke rise from small brick beds
The shadows sway and dance under the last  breaths of  sun slipping into the night

When I hold on to her like the last days of summer,  but she is like the end of Autumn
When red and gold love letters fill the trees
When the last red ribbons of a sunset caress her face

In her eyes I see the low hung stars of an autumn sky
In her kiss the last sonnet of a season's end
In her arms the warmth of a fire set to welcome the first winter night

Karl von Mecklenburg
kiana 2d
I make my mind run infinite laps
before stepping one foot inside
the more tired it gets
the easier it is to live
thoughts don't get fed
and my eyes dry out
so no tear can come visit
staying alive has become the goal
because emotion has failed me
passions have deserted me cold and naked
against my trembling bones
holding on for dear life
bloody hands gripping thin veins
legs dangling in the smog
in my heaving lungs
moments of anguish cage me
binding my feathers around my neck
until I breathe nothing but bricks
may sleep; my temporary escape
bring me solace in my chaos
and morning be gentle on me
as my dark feelings awaken
at the same time I do
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