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(These are what never was and could not be.)
This is the world that never was.
(We sit at the edge of the world.)
If one door opens when another door closes then does one door close when another one opens?
(We are at the beginning so it’s after the end.)
Before thought.After thought. Same life.
(Nothing left to do but swallow each other and ourselves whole.)
Let yourself be cut to ribbons.
(Harm one, heal the other.)
We consume ourselves constantly.
(We are never satisfied nor disappointed.)
What is unseen is known to all.
(Are you far enough yet to return?)
We’ll eat ourselves alive if we keep on doing this.
(Good.I’m tired of all this, so let’s start again.)
We sit at the edge of the world.
(This is the world that never was.)
OR:the serpents with no end OR the never was and could not be
Inspired by too many sources to name.
Nothing matters.
Therefore, everything matters.

The world is devoid of meaning,
except for the meaning we give it.

Whatever we do, whatever transpires,
all is an act of

*holiness.

We are creators, we are the ones who create.
We are He, we are She, we are all, we are none.


All is change.
Permanence is found in impermanence.
There is no death.
Only a change in form.

I sit and ride the wave.
MisfitOfSociety Dec 2019
I’ve been down to this place before
Devouring my flesh like a self-cannibal
Another lap around this body
Swallowing the serpent’s tail.
It hisses just behind me,
Covering every track, I make.
When my inner eye turns to see its trail,
It will be consumed by the snake.

Is my preacher a liar?
Is it in my nature?
Am I no different than the animal?
Are my thoughts even mine at all?
I am not alone in this body,
There’s a stranger here with me.
Making every choice for me,
Dug out of my ancestry.

Muscles expand and contract,
Pulling me further in.
I feel myself dissolving,
The past is the future again.

My own ouroboros.

**** the lights,
Take my eyes.
I don’t want to see,
The serpent that’s swallowing me.

It feels like I’ve done this all before.
Swallowing my tail.

**** death before it is born again.
The end is only the beginning of that which ended. Coming back around full circle.
Diána Bósa Oct 2019
Tell me, my moondark one, how come that
our journey remained untraveled;
from mirror to mirror into eternity
our passages were left uncrossed?
For the mirage of shedding a light,
we rather chose to immerse into the outer world
than become one with each other's.
Since when were we this hollow
turning into shallow ones,
who are unfaithful to their dreams?
Tell me, that how come
that the snake is already bitting his own tail
for the circle is full now,
and I still wish to tell our never-ending story?
- Oct 2019
dont follow the green
dont follow the snake
it'll eat you too
on its way back
Laokos Aug 2019
torn free from the ground of
pregnant ideas and withered
internal dialogues.

aloof in the face of destiny, crying
for refuge among the disowned,
the dismembered, the disinterested.  i
alone exist in the maelstrom of abstraction
crafted painstakingly through my ages
and seasons.

a mind as sharp as mine
to raise me without feathers
and place me
among the mulch.

i blanket my canvas with
woes and worries alike, neglecting
the foul-mouthed begotten son
arranged among the pillars left standing.

crooked trees and iced stone to
vibrate
through these ears of clay.  

i miss the days of youthful
ignorance and exuberant hope shot at my
future like a cannon of pride
and confidence.  

today the final summer flowers exhale
notes of sweet becoming, ever mingling
with the hum of nature's eternal embrace.  
the bodies celestial in ambiguity spin and
swirl in irrevocable sincerity.  from rise to
fall, through night and naught, the world
recurs again to weave itself anew.
Viancy Aug 2019
I want to sit at the edge of the world
with my legs hanging
and wonder how my life could have been
If I have lived that other life so far away from here

It might just probably be the same cycle unfolding,
The same old dusty vices, same me eating my own tail

And I pretend that is my consolation
to think everything could have been the same.
Lua Apr 2019
Nas palavras da mulher que viveu em 1910
Os "anos 80" eram 1880
E suas reclamações da nova Rússia eram tão atuais quanto as nossas
Em meio a semi ditadura e intolerância política e religiosa
Eu, que quase achei que estávamos progredindo e crescendo
Esqueci que esse é o maior defeito dos seres humanos, o esquecimento
Esquecer que isso tudo já aconteceu
E vai acontecer de novo e de novo
Mesmo eu, assim, maldizendo.
Talvez uma ou outra coisa melhore
Como disse um conhecido certa vez
Mesmo que o mundo se afogue
No consumismo, e exploda de vez
Em puro esquecimento
Afinal, você não pensa?
Sim, sobre isso mesmo
Sobre o sentido de tudo isso
Em meio a minha juventude nunca entendi a complexidade desse pensamento
Hoje, perdida entre sentimentos, compreendo
Não é sobre o sentido da vida
Mas sim de tudo do mundo
Afinal o ser humano gosta de se ver como uma dádiva, uma criação
Mas não pára para pensar na simples ocasião
De ser fruto de um erro de equação
ms reluctance Mar 2019
cardboard crowns   (awash with)
liquid laughter   (cascading)
all around   (litany)

empty eyes   (searching)
borrowed bliss   (enlightenment)
stale sorrow   (breaks me)
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