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MetaVerse Aug 2022
H                         O
  H                                          H    
           O                                      O              
    2            H
                      H                        2                        
Douglas Scheurn Oct 2016
Ten million bombs,
In an organism,
Single of cell.

The nucleus becomes nuclear,
The ironic cliche.
Instructions to life is unclear,
Resurrection per touch'e.

The ground breaks and falls away,
Supernatural universe all around you,
Leading yourself away,
Venomous vapor clouds you pass through.

Written texts whisper secrets,
"They're secrets for none exist to hear it!"

Ink fills the veins in challenge,
Blood carresses the paper before you,
Eyes stare in mallace,
Rebellion is the potential in truth,

The light dims as you suffocate the beautiful lie.
Thirteen dice becames synchronized with your soul,
Chances are you will die,
Before your art feeds your home.

As sad as this is,
It brings us boundless joy.

From the darkest possible chasm,
Ascends our Chrystal-Rift ******.
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
There's an impossibility standing adjacent to the nearest star bound body
It waves and beckons with a sincere familiarity so unnaturally
I am the end of the undulating tunneled vision
I am become a silhouette of a dead city caught in the decaying story bones fiction

We are all emptiness and our emptiness is how we define ourselves.
But our emptiness will become a river into which we will find the world to be held.
The universe exists in the eyes of those who live without the sight to see
Those breathing, freezing stars that burn into the heart buried deep.

Constructs of will and portions of strength cut out the guilt of my youth
All roads lead to the sky but I will not seek to understand you
Futures are made in blinks and beats
Are they aware of the way we lay with our tangled feet under these threadbare sheets?

Follow the light of my darkness
A single shot of whiskey and a conversation whisks away my heart's hardness
All cool and breezy across the great green oceans
I'll meet you halfway between loss and a facsimile of dreamed emotions
Candela Apr 2014
Mami was my grandmother.
Because she's dead.
She died October 20th.
The day after my best friend's birthday party.
The day after a boy said i was pretty.

I cried, of course,
but as the days passed i realized i wasn't so sad.
And that made me really angry.
How couldn't be sad?
What was wrong with me?

I remember this day when she wrote my name on a notebook.
She wanted to talk to me.
She said she was sorry about what happened.
Long story.

I remember when she had the stroke.
It was my brother's birthday and she was so happy on the phone.
Mom was smoothing my hair and my aunt called.
I remember the lost look in her eyes.
I remember my sister crying.
I remember telling my brother on the phone.
I remember crying.
But i can't remember was was the last thing she said to me.
And that's ****** up.

After she died i understood my mixed feelings.
I miss my grandmother.
But the lady in the bed of a ****** hospital wasn't my grandmother.
I know it sounds mean.
But it's the truth.
sorry about the weird narrative

— The End —