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No anti-word yet
For the vacuous thoughts
Ever blissful they float
In the vacuous mind
Sethnicity Nov 2016
Less Is more Need Less
Words and Walls of self assured
Vacuous Vessels
More or Less tRUMp.
A small kindness can’t sustain
A screaming, starving child.
One step at a time
Won’t bridge the distance
Between salvation and despair.

I click that button.
I like that you are running to beat cancer,
But you won’t.

The world boils and burns.
I won’t share anymore,
Because I don’t care anymore.
Facebook *******.
Anya Jul 2015
When I die,
I do not want vacuous truths at my written eulogy.
I do not want people hear lies about me.

“She was beautiful.”
I am not. I was not.
Beautiful people knew how to dress.
They do not act like an awkward mess.

“She was strong and brave.”
I am not. I was not.
Strong and brave people do not cry themselves to sleep.
They do not consider themselves as a heap

“She was smart.”
I am not. I was not.
Smart people are not afraid of choices they make.
They are confident about the risks they take.

Before I die,*
I want you to know that I am dull, anxious and dumb.
I am broken and small like a piece of crumb.
bleh Oct 2014
i am lost in the wisp of your faltering
the fluttering of concrete entrenched
into stoic rigmarole

to reach out layer by layer
peeling unearthing
a catatonic subdivision of disjoint subdivisions
a limit ordinal
between touch and feeling

where we kiss on the cusp of that silent ocean on the edge of sound
drowned in the nebulous familiarity of
a distant melody
a tired resolve
re  solve the old puzzle  muscle memory's misted amnesia
half the pieces falling out the warn tinderbox

inarticulate drowned severed isomorphisms over
brea(d)thless infinities
self adjoint matted topologies
nestled snugly in the amniotic absolution
of form before being

      hands of matted ice
contorted into perfection
by the sculpting propensities
  of undulations of estrangement,

where we touch in the cusp of self reflections thousand mirrors inverted propensities
                        infinite infinitesimals
  nestled meromorphic partitions
hidden corners in the brevity of dusk
multiplicities fragmenting behind empty veils
(  to be seen is to be made discrete
   to be discrete is to flicker
                                     and disappear
  (inevitably invariable
          inevitable invariability))

we
       stand in a waterfall of gravel
   and drown our voices in the choke of our cellophane hearts

caked
             into fillets of aphasic tundra


  where we whisper our nothings in the desert on the boundary of silence

our words
                         escape us
           like rats from shipwreck


                                      we are
                       disembowelled catharsis
                           intentional and fatuous
                                   retching upon itself

       severed
and free
       and dead
like a phantom phantom limb
i miss the familiar deaths you bring

— The End —