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Simon Oct 4
These memories of mine,
These senses through time;

Whisper of a never-ending summer,
And never-changing souls.
As if hidden behind ones own reflection,
Never to be reached again.

For, the only place this exiled world is permitted,
Is amidst the realms of dreams and limbo.
And solely a gaze beyond oneself,
May reveal the leap between realities.

So, here I stand on the edge of beginnings,
Ready to join the eternal summer;
Misled by the luring benevolence of timelessness,
In need of guidance back to the truth.
This is a description of me facing the inevitable fate of growing up and losing the innocent, doubtless and strong person I thought I was. Instead now I am left with a choice. Choose ignorance and safety and try to become the harmless kid I was, or accept my destiny and explore the depths of my monstrous capabilities. If the wolf tries to act a sheep, what will he then say to the impulses of his nature?
Douglas Harrison Dec 2018
I have a pit in my stomach that feels like a fist
Just squeezing tighter and tighter
Tomorrow everything could change
Even if it stays the same it’s only for a matter of time
I’ve been waiting years for this moment and I know I should be excited but I feel like I’m letting a lot go
I’m going to miss the conversations during the car rides
I know you hate picking me up and dropping me off
I loved the time spent together
I will gain the world tomorrow but to me it will be at the loss of a treasure
A place to lay my laurels
Limping my way
Gashes on my feet
I rest my head for a but a moment
The silence filled with bitterness
It's a life I chose
It's the life I live
Such complexity was my choice
By living a life filled with turmoil
This is who I've become
Liesl May 2018
After a while you’ll stop caring about him, but then you’ll find yourself wondering if he still has the mug you made for him in pottery class and if every time he sees it he remembers the smile you wore from ear to ear as he took it out of its newspaper wrapping because that smile meant a hell of a lot more than a mug ever could but neither was enough to make him stay.
Ash Feb 2018
A ****** thing
When put there in the lamplight
But chosen with the utmost care
Pretend it’s just kitsch
And not some ******* you’d throw away had someone else gifted it.
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

— The End —