Become more, for what? For who?
Why does it matter anymore?

Defining traits,
Surface level, it’s all they want anyways
So why even bother to face the pain

Introspective
And reflective
Admired only by myself

Not even in their language,
Mesmerized and entertained,
chasing always their counterfeited dreams, come to think of them as fiends

True gold is not recognizable by their shallow eyes
They fall for a quicker, shinier version, enlaced and filled with lies

“Cool,” their defining trait
Depth, care little if you portray

Theyd prefer the certain ease and masking of reality
Or perhaps they’re not even conscious of it, perpetually surrounded, lacking any reflection internally

See in others a reflected mirror image of themselves, providing a generic purpose, so life it seems has simplicity

Simplicity is a lie
Any man who believes he possesses it is merely in an altered state of mind

Ignorance will only carry you so far
Until time will make you see
Life is so complex, so we drown it out and reduce it down, begging to question what is REALity?

There's a shallow darkness over our minds
That paves the lights like sheer blinds
for the quench of love in our broken souls
There's a fear seeping deep inside our veins
That's often too scared to care
too scarred to share
Sometimes all we need is someone to pull us out from the past
And a little time
to fill up the spaces in our minds.

~mehek

It’s the depth of things that get me,
How minute the surface is,
yet we bathe in it.
Seldom they glance below,
But I remember being there,
Living each day beneath the choppy foam.
Finding peace from within,
Underneath every breath.

This season,
Aches my heart in pangs.
More than I am able to ignore them,
They ebb and grow like a heart beat.
The elegant rhythm,
Pulling me back.
To the place where I found myself,
where I see you,
And feel you see me.

It’s not the loneliness anymore,
It’s that piece of my soul I miss.
It’s the wonder of transparent minds,
Blending into a tapestry of angelic strokes.
Only we can see, touch, and feel.
The depths are calling from the silence,
As a traveler in the noise,
I long to go,

sigh

home.

On the surface of her eyes,
An algal pool in full bloom.
He wades in with his lashes, caught,
Stumbles around in the fishing nets
Soaked to the knee.

The place in which the oxygen should be
Is choked up now, perplexed, verdant,
A floating city of jealous skirts
Buffeted by a harsh March wind...

And further down, he has her pinned
Tracing paths in shallow waters
Close yet distant to seashell ears
Roughening the lilypad surface
With a single feather.

Through algal bloom, she wonders whether
He'll bother wading down to meet
The covert Atlantis beneath his feet.

The water edge laps at my feet.
I cannot imagine the depth of its reach,
Nor can I fathom the whole body ****** out before the horizon.

There is something alluring about the freshness of it all.
Caress against my thighs, the wetness
Wrapping around my limbs.

Let me mingle,
With your murky waters...
May I touch your bed?
Coarse at first until I mold it into my desire.

The airy hole keeps me afloat.
Please be patient, for my lack of it is withholding me.
Benign ache lingers, that needs to dissolve...

Seeking only the shallow end for now, where the warmth can never leave.
I may drown if I go further...
A chance of worth do you see?