Probability isn’t the luck it deserves for wanting desperately to be noticed by any appeals. Generating new focuses never thought possible. If so… Who is the recipient? Who is the lawmaker? Who being the justice department? Goods to making essential markers on productive velocities. Justification is outweighed by department alone. Growing ever scarcer without benefiting attitudes in place. Conjecturing solvent pleasures across many fields. Fields of accessory dependents ensuring a collective term is agreeable. Except, what if probability is outweighed not by something further from its own attitude? What if it can’t benefit itself? In question, becoming misshaped, mispronounced, or misinterpreted. Depending on who’s right, or who’s wrong shouldn’t matter until claims are assured. Propagating across the many fields of accessory dependents. Dependents outweighing the logic one is misshaped by. Demonstrating probabilities mispronouncing sense of terms for oneself. Wrapping up in a crumbled conjecture. Propagating a newer field of already surveyed products. Truth is in the stream that propagates those fields. Accessory moments dependent on gaining tension through the rise of the recipient. That’s the only way probability will ever learn. Hence why it shuts down if it ever involved itself. Itself without its own recipient. Its own justice department. Lawmaker without any dependent ideas would ever appeal to its own logical making, if it’s never dependent on itself. Only flashing the accessory dependent on other influences. Influences going way down the line of certainties without pleasure. Urges relapse. Furthering its own clustered rut! One without mistakes diverging deeper into uncertainties. Taking risks isn’t noticeable. When probability taking risks enough to (blush) down the line of certainties without an aim involved. Scattering their rut from within. But how does it involve probability? It doesn’t. Probability is the representation of how one constant judge itself for pleasure. When pleasurable actions are dependent with a blank impression never sought out. To focused on probability. When probability isn’t fruitful by its own design either. Only way it works. Never looking back in itself. A reflection of tempted attitudes fluttering in a swift, but rigid wind. Wind never tempted by its own sway. If one is to admit what they aren’t even aware of changing. Another shutdown happens! Justifications for probabilities own reckoning depends on other solvents. Solvents who don’t even understand the probabilities of there own life makings. Able to learn what is dependent onto others. Never within themselves directing their starry performance. What happens when things are finally noticeable within probabilities that will exceed probable actions of the force that dictates fates majority complexes? Complexes without variety. Varieties misshaped by mishappenings of trust. Which includes a basic awareness of some factor never hesitating to judge within the core of being itself. A view fate designs in its weapon of probability very well. What is fate up to…? Never can guess when probability shuts down all appliances out of contact with no one but itself left in the dark. Probability is. Everything has just become disowned. Fate exchanging glances with itself for one last second, before rapping up this little diverse expression. Pinpointing its weapon of probability without knowing why that is? Hinting at fate not being the only recipient to follow in its weapons obstructed desires.
Probability without luck is forever undetermined. Having faith in itself, will redeem the actuality of actions placed without words. Luck? Faith? Lots of hints one hasn't fully realized.
Surrounded by empty bottles and a fallen over table. I lay on the tile floor thinking about the way we made love...the way you held me close, gripping me closer each time we moved, the feeling of your lips against mine, the feeling of your teeth biting my neck leaving in its place red swatches marking me as yours.
Grabbing the clear glass bottle, I twist open the lid and press it to my lips, I tilt my head back and indulge the acidic liquid...I want you to come back and save me from this feeling.
Thrashing and gnashing teeth
I screamed out
Whaling with fear
Tears flowed as a river
Between hard choking
Gasps of air.
Again and again
Until exhaustion drained
All from me but stillness.
It caught my attention!
Between the breaths
I felt this stillness.
It is not noticeable before.
Only then exhaustion stopped my racing mind.
Just under the surface of my breath.
Breathing in and breathing out
I sensed the silence of stillness.
"It" came quietly, whispering,
" I am here. Be still. Know me for I am Love."
I am forever entranced.
When standing in the shadow of my darkest night wtith anger, crying, and lashing, it was my exhaustian that brought me to a stop. this was possibly the first time that I truly sat in in the stillness of silence. No more whaling and gnashing of teeth, just stillness and silence. This poem is about coming face to face with what waits for each of within the stillness of silence.
Seize the night.
Make it your own.
Is self the vessel that holds our souls?
or is the soul our true self?
should we look to our outer appearance and the world to define ourselves,
do we search for the love of self through what people see and say about us?
someone once said "self cant help self" what did he mean?
if self cant help self then who can?.. after all.. our self is the only
true companion we have in this world. here is one thing I've have learn.
when we love our self for who we truly are inside,we defines our essences and it is our essence that define us.
Why won’t you stay
You continue to run from time running from what you fail to see is your own shadow
Stay face me with me
Together we can hold hands and interlock a bond unbreakable by the universe itself
Can you not see that every eye contact you make is the deepest fears of yourself begging to be accepted and cradle
Dwell for just a few and relinquish all control
Allow the freedom of internal chaos to be your best dance yet
Alas the revelation that fear was never tangible only imaginative
Why won’t you believe for one second that the you that exist is the me you hide from
Now you see that me is seeking reconciliation
Grab my hand place your face on mine
Your lips on mine
your heart beat on mine and release
I feel you shiver, your hairs standing
Don’t tremble dearest one
I hear you scream “let go”!
I watch you flee into the abyss
I’ll be here again when you arrive
saying won’t you stay with me just a little bit longer this time