#animation
What scientist thought to be a Big Bang
Was actually the main frame
Booting up!
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 4:59 PM UTC
Midnight claustrophobia dreams,
where the charcoal
suffocation presses on my chest.
My expiration has no date of
elapsing.
But the animation of my expiration
still lingers,
and I hold on to that moment.
You are my collection of recollection,
and in the onyx covering
that the luminosity clings too,
we suffocate on every
exhalation of the other.
Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 3:43 PM UTC
in our very own room
all have fever.. privately
we feed it soft egg
we closet and build
create fabric, like insect
mouthwork, repurpose
outside of the home
dictated by company
we have shared madness
we tread the weather
we institutionalize
miss out on the world
societies pal
traitors to our piracy
mistrust our own mind
blinds drawn, in fierce study
apply to the retooling
head clay made better
the automaton
must bare some animation
unallied approach
wetter still and fit
your neutrons fend now and thrive
carry the tune outdoors ?
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 9:09 AM UTC
Pineapple topped beach palms are tall in the clouds,
Echoes of bells tones trail in the sky so dark blue.
The sun is liquid honey, with a golden candy coating,
It is now that I look up and see my red balloon.
A song of harmonic laughter is full in the air,
Up it floats into adventurous magical territories,
Mythic beasts and sprites follow on clouds and stare,
Ticker-tape string trailing, windy chimed melodies.
The chalk of clouds are pillows filling the sky,
Darker and suspended in mid-animation, dimming.
The balloon floats still-ever higher in the light,
Lighter than ever, above the earth still spinning...
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
Cuddly
Soft
Sensitive
Touch
Move
Freeing
Giving each other life
Closer and closer
Python in brains
Already there
Beautiful
Light blue
Animation with AI
Stark love
passion
Driving
Counter-thievery
Reading fast
Choosing how human you are
Faux-morality dying
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
This bedroom got boring
I hold in my breath til I’m pressured
just short of pain
and result :
The wall at the far end pushes back into the darkness
the bed raises on longer limbs
Now there is more territory
Inviting in a new metabolism
some organic animation
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 11:35 PM UTC
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Please stop staring at the hole.
With magic i could be one once more,
But fairytales aren't standing tall.
Ruby shoes run out of wishes
I'm sculpted, carved. just like pumpkin.
There's just no light inside. It's gone.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 8:37 AM UTC
I find myself
in improvised dances
to songs that scratch at the shadows
of songs before them
I find myself
in blue light that flickers
wavers by the bedside
sends out a sharp, musical sound
just when I feel it's gotten too quiet
I find myself
in colors, complementary
proud on the screen
flashing expertly in the heart of a scene
and I find myself
in the stories of people who are lost
who cannot find themselves
who jut out from their imposed pages
drenched, pouring the thick ink
that makes up the prose
of their pain and passion
so, I find myself
in silly, stealing, fleeting things
in things that time will wear, eat and tear
in pages, in notes, in shared thoughts and vibrant colors
but in each new finite, fictional summer
I find myself there
in its sugar-coated, sweetened care
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
Here I've grown to accept the riddles of each day, to culminate into a coalesced mesh of disarray.
Never would the seeds down under sprout to see the sun at the mere sound of thunder.
X marks the spot somewhere dissolving in my gut, wrenching at the chance to give both some and none of which we call *****
I've lost my faith in humanity,
I've lost humanity in my faith.
Yet I'd face my fate if only just to sate the state.
This flip book of stop.
Animation.
Assimilates fremescent assibilation,
And similarly tastes terrible,
Savoring like dry sponge, and tied tongues,
It's incredibly trivial, just a trivia of syllables stripped up to simple tools.
Simple tools.
Simple...
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 11:49 AM UTC
Last night I dreamt that Google
was celebrating me
through one of its doodles.
It was the simplest of them all,
the most ordinary and vanilla -
common as a rock, low-pitched with a cherry on top.
You clicked on it and it didn't have any answers.
It showed nothing.
No sound was added,
no funky animations,
no gamification.
Corny and simple.
I think they did a pretty good job in celebrating me.
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 5:53 AM UTC
A gray cat with a white tummy sat upright in his owner’s living room. Yet, it was his living room, too he thought. Though he only perceived the lower half of their bodies, Tom felt he had fooled the humans into relinquishing nearly all their luxuries to him. Their food, their sitting spots, their sleeping spots. Yet, the humans would not let Tom enjoy these luxuries in complete freedom. Sometimes, when Tom laid on the couch or in the bed, he was kicked onto the floor - but that wasn’t the worst of it. Whenever Tom put together a sandwich using every single item available in the kitchen, Tom’s owner’s plucked the violin strings clear out of him, with broom whacks and concrete body slams.
“No food until you catch that mouse, ya stupid cat!” they’d yell.
Some nights - as he watched his beneficiaries drive off to the opera nightclub - Tom pondered his predicament. So if I catch this mouse, I get free reign over the house. He thought. Unlimited fridge access and legendary furniture spots. Mmmmm. Better catch me a mouse. Tom chuckled.
Mice came and went throughout the house, but one always remained. Jerry. In fact, all of the mice coming through the house only came over to chill with Jerry!
Tom stooped low to the ground in a pounce and placed his eyes millimeters from Jerry’s pint sized stance. Jerry felt as though he was pierced by a slew of razors. When Tom quickly relaxed his gazed and let out an enormous sigh.
“There is no magic ideal is there Jerry? ”Tom asked “We’re enchantingly random. Just automatic creatures with base desires. I hunger in the void, so I still want nothing more than food from the human fridge. In this universe, and a number more, I will pursue what seems the easiest means to human food, whether hunch or trick, or, right or wrong.”
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Oh krabby patty
Meals I've eaten since my days of milk tooth
Now
In these square pants drawers
Trying to hide the bones caused by those bottoms in bikini I can't believe
I'm still into you SpongeBob Squarepants
This is a very cheesy poem
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 1:55 PM UTC
Is there a barrier
between myself and
the world?
Why do you
conceal your heart
from me?
Loneliness is
watching animation,
laugher, voices, chatter,
and feeling suspended
in time.
Maybe that's why
loneliness is easier to bear
when you're alone,
than around others.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 12:40 AM UTC
There are the two choices. Wicked, wheel-men curving towards that which I wear in the evening when I paint on my black suit. The pitter-patter of organic matter, the Metropolis ground fresh. You tell me raspberry, I tell you I am not impressed. And then from the inimical lips, those bards from distance, sand spots and hordes of watering holes I place fresh Republicans on- and they were stealing the magazines.
Jury on.
Four devils they figure some, four devils. A anthelmintic potion to square away the worms. The pink worm, who takes long-distance telephone calls on your roommates only moments before the red worm, his head shriveled and his limbs crying from ****** she the blue curly worm; she is what we've been looking out and everything about this evening has slipped in the pattern we expected. Red light in fact,
They used the concatenations of frog legs(this was the big deal since My Mother loved the chelura of some tropical varieties of frogs and funny-legged), banjax the first one before the weather catches the summary being the news. Going as far as the the ecstasy of officials leaving the scene. The species catching its last names of life- genus and family alike racing towards safety.
And so I build in the fly zone. I haggle for President, and make sacred the realms of figures; denaturalized are the entanglements of humans, even whatever the mephitic and bellicose shadows shend and fordo their greatest powers.
I lull and lust, my pugnacious frazil, just like my recalcitrant logomachy that I ****** and slide angrily and profusely with m and everything I try to do. Just so long as you can see me usufruct and lobby forthright the message.
Mine. Hate. Anxiety.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC