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#atypnoc
We gather here a consciousness collected, coincidentally of convenience. Derelict, the meek once scattered were rejected, by grace discovers providence as brothers in uncommon sense-                                                         -abilities receive projected condemnation, misdirected. Come be who you are, you have done well-come be who you are.
0
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Providence of Purpose
I'm not in the hospital, hit by a car I know I'm not online as much; I'm not far from finally finishing out my degree! Ten days til a Bachelor of PSYCHOLOGY! Though yes, sad to say, the mishap from last night Proved unsalvageable what took me all day to write. But after the panic subsided, in spite Of the loss I decided to invite a CAN-DO mantra, that today still recite: *"Citing every source providing claims; unless, of course, the statements you express are YOURS. Original.  Then, yes."* Would be no need to cite, but I digress; I still endorse vehemently: just reinforce Pre-existing bodies,     empiric and peer-reviewed, Must become one with your own body,      long before you can conclude Much of anything; that, at best, Could be considered misconstrued. Which I reckon may elicit a subjectively quite rude Swing at a pitch from your perspective you thought beckoned attitude So rather than succumbing, and becoming quite contrite, Just cite every sentence as though you know of no greater delight   AAAAAND For the friends and acquaintances from on-the-line: Out among ye mulls around an enemy of thine. And by proxy, or vis-a-vis? Uh, nemesis of mine? Either way, it's a PHONEY! I promise I'm fine! I wasn't mowed down while crossing a street By a drunk driver; don't buy into this deceit! When the hell have you known of me to be on the loose, And outdoors by a street, with no **** good excuse! Nah, brah; didn't get rek't, not in the ICU, Anything 80_hospital says isn't true. It's hard to imagine why someone would do Such a thing, and hard to try and imagine who... Nevertheless: til the mocking bird is absconding Believe none are who they claim if they're responding With something extreme, but failing to show face And put shoe on head or something else, just in case That for reasons beyond rational ways of thought, Someone's chosen to wreak havoc on the distraught At least until that jacka$$ sh!# f#@%er gets caught, Just, my two cents? If they say "no I swear," they're not.
0
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
May2
I'm not in the hospital, hit by a car I know I'm not online as much; I'm not far from finally finishing out my degree! Ten days til a Bachelor of PSYCHOLOGY! Though yes, sad to say, the mishap from last night Proved unsalvageable what took me all day to write. But after the panic subsided, in spite Of the loss I decided to invite a CAN-DO mantra, that today still recite: *"Citing every source providing claims; unless, of course, the statements you express are YOURS. Original.  Then, yes."* Would be no need to cite, but I digress; I still endorse vehemently: just reinforce Pre-existing bodies,     empiric and peer-reviewed, Must become one with your own body,      long before you can conclude Much of anything; that, at best, Could be considered misconstrued. Which I reckon may elicit a subjectively quite rude Swing at a pitch from your perspective you thought beckoned attitude So rather than succumbing, and becoming quite contrite, Just cite every sentence as though you know of no greater delight   AAAAAND For the friends and acquaintances from on-the-line: Out among ye mulls around an enemy of thine. And by proxy, or vis-a-vis? Uh, nemesis of mine? Either way, it's a PHONEY! I promise I'm fine! I wasn't mowed down while crossing a street By a drunk driver; don't buy into this deceit! When the hell have you known of me to be on the loose, And outdoors by a street, with no **** good excuse! Nah, brah; didn't get rek't, not in the ICU, Anything 80_hospital says isn't true. It's hard to imagine why someone would do Such a thing, and hard to try and imagine who... Nevertheless: til the mocking bird is absconding Believe none are who they claim if they're responding With something extreme, but failing to show face And put shoe on head or something else, just in case That for reasons beyond rational ways of thought, Someone's chosen to wreak havoc on the distraught At least until that jacka$$ sh!# f#@%er gets caught, Just, my two cents? If they say "no I swear," they're not.
Continue reading...
47
Emptied; by past astounded Dreamt disasters unfounded. But you. To bear. Bury myself in you. Instead keeping my ground To bed sleeping is bound Unspoken tones across                 a planet, how profound Awoken stones no moss                 we plan it, rolling now around In eachother we drown within deep resounding   Finding you surround me    Serenity has found me.    And i let love confound me. And you. To bear. I bury me in you.
0
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC
knightbears
GIVEN ALL THESE THUNDERCLAPS I WONDER WHERE WE LAST TOUCHING ON THE BACKS OF OUR HANDS TOGETHER, FALLING WATCHING AS WE SPLIT INTO… I FOUND OUT THE OWL, SAYS WHO? AND THE BEARS AND THE BEARS AND THE BEARS AND THE BEARS THE BEARS THE BEARS THE BEARS BEARS THERE IS SOMETHING I MUST TELL YOU UGH THERE COMES THUNDER THERE GOES LIGHTNING STILL I WONDER IF THEY'RE FIGHTING I CAN'T HELP BUT ASK MYSELF WHAT'S THE WORTH THEN THEY COME AND THEIR THUMBS WILL DRAW NUMB, AND THEY CAN'T SPEAK THEY'RE DUMB HERE COME LIGHTNING HERE COMES THUNDER THEY'RE STILL FIGHTING I STILL WONDER DOES YOUR NUMB GROW- DOES YOUR THUMB GROW NUMB FROM HOLDING DOWN THE MUTE BUTTON WITH YOUR CROWN AS YOU'RE SCREAMING, SETTLE DOWN IN YOUR GOWN WITH THE TEARS STREAMING DOWN YOUR FACE AND THE YEARS LIKE IT NEVER TOOK PLACE AND THE HEART NOW JUST AN EMPTY SPACE AND THE PART YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS, TO REPLACE
0
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:22 AM UTC
THUNDER
I'm just I can't feel my lips on my face so still i cant move them on their own i can't tell if they are parted i can't tell if they exist i can't feel my hips or my feet, or my lefs i can't move them i can't feel them i want to break i want all of the confusion, the disconnectedness i can cry but i can't escape this and i can't can't escape this there is no break a million scattered shattered steps stood stunning chameleon flattered I can't move. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l6n_z-FdEkw&feature;=youtu.be ^unlisted
0
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
Atypical Narcolepsy
Is the flower first to wilt alluring? Is ugliness empowered thirst enduring? And does the **** thrive in it's leeching ways? Spreading, choking, seeping, seeking prey
0
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
With Sam August
I don't know where, if it will end. Refuse to voice or recommend. To treat what ails us is pretend. Slips through fingers apprehend. To help more than to hurt, reflexive sunny disposition which can cradle sallow sleeping stoic pride. Distinguishing the dirt, collective run beside conviction; acting ladle heavy, heaping, terrified.   Leave things better than you found them Received our debtors stand; surround them. I wonder if to soothe what ail, under apprehension prevail. Therein lies each us, our grail - our demons sinking in each nail.
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC
Truckers
Once upon a time there was a bend in a tree, which grew among other trees and lay among the rocks covered in mosses of different hues of purple. The tree with a bend had a heart, which was aching. Because as it had been growing, among the other trees, up from the ground with the rocks and the mosses, it had been burning… But it swallowed the smoke and it made all efforts to conceal the fire, and the embers, smoldering… And while growing and burning, with the grand secrecy eking out from the ground surrounding the roots, into a sort of fog or mist that hazed the acre, this tree took some maligned pride in the secrets she kept. Because she knew, regardless of any other perception of who she was...she knew there was a fire within her. Whether that fire being a good thing, or a harmful thing, did not cross her mind as of consequence. Because while one is still growing, without knowing of consequences...relativity does not exist. Like Shroedinger’s cat, really. She took pride that the secret was one of physical threat, one with an aura of risk. One that would not be delighted in by those around her, were they aware. One that in fact may frighten them. She felt brave. And she felt clever. Because the low-laying fog or origin unknown to the rest of those around her, she knew the origin. And for this, she felt clever. The fire was a hunger insatiable; but deliberate, and bade time. A sick balance was struck between that which could be afforded to burn in secrecy, and that which was necessary to stoke the fire. And for some time, she believed this agreement was manageable, sustainable, and perfect. Then, a day came. Where another tree, once seeded nearby, emerged from the soil. She found herself proximally closer to another tree, than she had ever really anticipated. And it was small. And she realized, how grown already she had become. The fires inside of her, had burned down slowly over time to the base of her trunk… burned her from the center, outwards, but more so down, to the base, where it festered and expanded and thrived on the emerging’s of her roots. And it thrived, and it devoured her where she was anchored to the earth. She beheld her nearby sprouted neighbor...she looked downwards upon him, and she saw how tenderly he was held to the soil, which had ashed somehow from below? And she realized how fragile this child was, she realized how innocent, she realized how impressionable, and how dependent upon her roots, and her barrier to the wind, he was. It was here that the realization dawned upon her for the very first time, that the life she had created for herself- and the intricate and meticulously hidden secrets she harbored ****** the fresh child who was planted in her soil, to depend upon the strengths of her roots, the strength that all around her naturally assumed existed. She became frantic. Bound by brittle, burning roots to the place she had sabotaged in her own short-sighted impulses to define herself as a mysterious and special tree. And the fire, which she felt had coexisted as an equal within her, she realized was not with any of her interests at heart. And that which she had begun so long ago, she could not extinguish, or tame. And her own damage, pain, inflicted in her decisions still were of little concern to her, but to face that now someone else completely undeserving of any of these consequences would suffer greater than even she: it broke her. She lacked any plan to remedy, or seek help, it was far past a point where those around her could offer anything to save her, or help her, or quiet the fire, or save the child. And so she lived on as a slave to the wicked fires gnawing away at her everything, at the air surrounding, of the soil, of the example… And she died far too slowly, as she watched each passing day those around her living timid tender serene lives of trees Oblivious in the 'fog' ….and while the young tree beside her came up, but far slower than other trees ought to… Came up, without solid foundation, roots that were unable to take hold in the ashy soil came up, feeling the heat from below and beside, but never knowing well enough to realize it was unusual. The burning tree died too slowly, and she watched the tree born and die from neglect and inadequate surroundings. And the small tree wasn't even noticed by any of the other trees, because the burning tree was so enveloped in shame and sorrow to even properly acknowledge the presence of the acres newest sapling. And so, on she burned, every dawn rising upon the fallen, wilted twig beside her, that only she had known. And her ashes kept any others from ever seeding and sprouting near her. And as the years went on, the area surrounding her of death and sorrow spread, And she was alone. The end.
0
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
The Incandescent Tree (Atypnoc's Story)
Once upon a time there was a bend in a tree, which grew among other trees and lay among the rocks covered in mosses of different hues of purple. The tree with a bend had a heart, which was aching. Because as it had been growing, among the other trees, up from the ground with the rocks and the mosses, it had been burning… But it swallowed the smoke and it made all efforts to conceal the fire, and the embers, smoldering… And while growing and burning, with the grand secrecy eking out from the ground surrounding the roots, into a sort of fog or mist that hazed the acre, this tree took some maligned pride in the secrets she kept. Because she knew, regardless of any other perception of who she was...she knew there was a fire within her. Whether that fire being a good thing, or a harmful thing, did not cross her mind as of consequence. Because while one is still growing, without knowing of consequences...relativity does not exist. Like Shroedinger’s cat, really. She took pride that the secret was one of physical threat, one with an aura of risk. One that would not be delighted in by those around her, were they aware. One that in fact may frighten them. She felt brave. And she felt clever. Because the low-laying fog or origin unknown to the rest of those around her, she knew the origin. And for this, she felt clever. The fire was a hunger insatiable; but deliberate, and bade time. A sick balance was struck between that which could be afforded to burn in secrecy, and that which was necessary to stoke the fire. And for some time, she believed this agreement was manageable, sustainable, and perfect. Then, a day came. Where another tree, once seeded nearby, emerged from the soil. She found herself proximally closer to another tree, than she had ever really anticipated. And it was small. And she realized, how grown already she had become. The fires inside of her, had burned down slowly over time to the base of her trunk… burned her from the center, outwards, but more so down, to the base, where it festered and expanded and thrived on the emerging’s of her roots. And it thrived, and it devoured her where she was anchored to the earth. She beheld her nearby sprouted neighbor...she looked downwards upon him, and she saw how tenderly he was held to the soil, which had ashed somehow from below? And she realized how fragile this child was, she realized how innocent, she realized how impressionable, and how dependent upon her roots, and her barrier to the wind, he was. It was here that the realization dawned upon her for the very first time, that the life she had created for herself- and the intricate and meticulously hidden secrets she harbored ****** the fresh child who was planted in her soil, to depend upon the strengths of her roots, the strength that all around her naturally assumed existed. She became frantic. Bound by brittle, burning roots to the place she had sabotaged in her own short-sighted impulses to define herself as a mysterious and special tree. And the fire, which she felt had coexisted as an equal within her, she realized was not with any of her interests at heart. And that which she had begun so long ago, she could not extinguish, or tame. And her own damage, pain, inflicted in her decisions still were of little concern to her, but to face that now someone else completely undeserving of any of these consequences would suffer greater than even she: it broke her. She lacked any plan to remedy, or seek help, it was far past a point where those around her could offer anything to save her, or help her, or quiet the fire, or save the child. And so she lived on as a slave to the wicked fires gnawing away at her everything, at the air surrounding, of the soil, of the example… And she died far too slowly, as she watched each passing day those around her living timid tender serene lives of trees Oblivious in the 'fog' ….and while the young tree beside her came up, but far slower than other trees ought to… Came up, without solid foundation, roots that were unable to take hold in the ashy soil came up, feeling the heat from below and beside, but never knowing well enough to realize it was unusual. The burning tree died too slowly, and she watched the tree born and die from neglect and inadequate surroundings. And the small tree wasn't even noticed by any of the other trees, because the burning tree was so enveloped in shame and sorrow to even properly acknowledge the presence of the acres newest sapling. And so, on she burned, every dawn rising upon the fallen, wilted twig beside her, that only she had known. And her ashes kept any others from ever seeding and sprouting near her. And as the years went on, the area surrounding her of death and sorrow spread, And she was alone. The end.
Continue reading...
41
I'm so ******* dizzy from remaining in one place while the world thrashes around me and collapses into space it's a wonder just how breathless i am left when the whole race i ran immobile unsure whether to flee from the life ever-giving chase
0
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
Adelante
Comes quite quickly end denies No longer able fantasize What a fool prioritize To feed myself such wicked lies Overwhelms in tortured cries The only love ive known still dies What a fool, you, I despise Feebly I demonize Oh god agree **** compromise Take me instead this ****** surprise So ******* wrong, internalize To walk your shoes arent my size Someday dunno when realiez The good, the bad, and always dies We all born will live to die Be so torn, we'll give our lies Free to mourn all ****** goodbyes Agree adorned with compromise I'm still here Do they hear? By all means what I held dear Forest falling, no one near I donno quite how I appear All I know is we're Alive I'm still here Revive good cheer To thrive my dear The drive to steer Alive we hear Alive we're here
0
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
The Shack
Narcoleptic storyteller living the dream; it's a ******* nightmare. Dark eclectic gory hell or giving up steam; watered luck is right there. Appear today; drawn tomorrow I could tell which words you borrow Inconvenienced shades of gray Eighty shades of sorrow weigh today, which way to say, I will stay here when you stray hear they may play fear, bray they pay dear Ever listen on to bold tomorrows.
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 5:01 AM UTC
Bio
Why, given these winnings, are you compelled to defend… Where I live in the beginning that lies at the end? To die driven and spinning, far too fast not to pretend… Decisive will the sinning burn a lonely man to blend? When I live in the beginning that lies at the end.
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Beginning Dies