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#centered
A moment lies where time both swells and ebbs, the future lies in the shadows of the past. It moves you through the world, unfolding the essence of being. Holding the grace that’s been given, which came to be through necessities, anger, compassion, yet also truth; what the moon is to the sun. It reflects the true nature of body & soul, relational forces centering the self, bound to each only by light and gravity. Casting myself upon the world, I became my own shadow.
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Jan 10
Jan 10, 2026 at 11:36 PM UTC
Light, Therefore Shadow
I thought I had to choose between the fire in my chest and the quiet in my bones between a life that reached upward and a life that let me breathe. But I was wrong. Peace and ambition are not enemies. They just need alignment a rhythm that doesn’t tear me open, a pace that lets me stay whole. Ambition without peace is just a frantic climb. Peace without direction is just standing still. But when peace goes first, ambition becomes lighter a path instead of a punishment, a choice instead of a chase. I don’t need to stop wanting things. I just need to want what doesn’t cost me myself. Peace at the center. Ambition growing from it. A life built from both, finally moving in the same direction.
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Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 6:51 PM UTC
Peace and Ambition
i breathe bubbles rise Underwater is Silent can't hear little kids scream and splash Peaceful my hair flows around my head in rolling auburn ways no goggles, chlorine stings my open eyes I could stay Forever in this vivid blue expanse peaceful, blurry, silent my lungs burn and i'm reminded of my human need for oxygen feet push with a crack off pristine off-white concrete shimmering with Sunlight patterns I gasp breath fills my lungs peace, still lingering is ruptured by a Kid with a Water Gun
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Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 9:02 PM UTC
u n d e r w a t e r
You speak of stars As if on first name No closer you are to me Yet I am in my own atmosphere Just waiting to breathe And fill my lungs with thee Forget, no don't The memory in mind Of when tingling spines aligned No starlight impedes Be it out of reach How your words once made me shine
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Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
How They Shine
now let words make love to you I Love You we hate me now let words ? ... .. .
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Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
Untitled
Meet me in the Garden Where the wind whispers through the willows As they bend to nature's mighty breath Meet me on the sandy beach Where the peaceful ocean ebbs & flows Like the cycle of life and death Meet at the the place That can only be called "Home" Where no one feels abandoned Where no one feels alone
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Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
Home
To not integrate To bring men, all of men Faceless men To a cave To be amongst but never within Where nameless figures Bound by archaic scripts And lies Killing in the name of God All in the name of God Bound by the undefined And lies Twisted to resemble Art Despicable art And more lies Creating monsters Through no fault of their own, yet monsters. It can not be golden It will never be golden You can not infuse beauty by telling gilded lies
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
Script Of Lies
If it gets you through the night, you could sit there on the couch and pretend that I’m not listening. We’ve been over this time and again, yet here you are flipped from side B to side A. I hope your tape breaks and this message is flipping in the wind on a tab with a marker marked red. I hope you understand. My life feels like vacation but my… well everybody will promise you violence over practically nothing and I think I deserve a better planet. Instead I’m here. It’s marginally all my ego, but mostly I just want to disappear. I swear; If I break a heart I’ll fix it, but I’m a disease and a symptom, and I stick like bad religion. Worshipers take shelter from this cult. I’d even stab you if I had proper motivation, and I didn’t treat myself like my own martyr for nothing. The “real” me may only be what you make of me anyways. My image of myself only exists within my head, and in that image I am rotten with perfection. My only corduroy is torn and smells of bleach, but I’m too sleepy to change into my skin. I swear I’m more than just an ordinary sin, just because I’m also my own martyr.
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
"Scumpocket."