#evanescent
"Maybe when I'm older it will all come down but it's killing me now.” What am I to cling on, if even the evanescent waft fails to remain intact? A shaft of ineffable dread strikes me.
I appealed to my little nook of nonchalance, the insular of words i dwell upon whenever needed. The gentle riptide of another life-wayfinder found me well, gratefully before the mental stress saps the strength. He's at peace with himself yet at odds with the world, Whereabout reads. It resonates with my subconsciousness, for I fathom it as a tactic of abiding all the unideal, if only I were dare to live with this insurgency. In the ambient voices riddled with glib claims, pros and cons, I’m trembling, unconvinced.
In the seat reserved for me and only for me, i clenched to the sentience excluded for me, excluded for my presence at the site at the moment. The lachrymose baby disturbs and retunes the shapeless stillness that has kept me sane. I've grown acquainted with malaise. I frame it as perennial. Lament not, the crowd stays blind of what my feelings of mind afford me. “Free is feeling they can’t take from you.”
Seats away the window left me a last gate that opens to the outside world, the residue of experience, springing. Clouds scudded by, too slow, too quick. The sky was dissolving in pink and blue, a hue that consoles passenger of all kinds. Until the tilt was steered too high to see the realm not yet darkened, as if the sun departed upon the same lane as the flight did. Unpredictable weather, unconjugatable caprice.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 2:18 PM UTC
my sadness is evanescent
soon I will forget how it made me feel
I used to feel empty everyday
now I feel joy and contentment
my sadness is evanescent
drifting away
out of my memory
the feeling of sadness
will be a foreign emotion
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 7:37 AM UTC
I stepped out — to buy some bread.
The rain, a silver needle, embroidering the diaphanous gauze of the atmosphere.
Thoughts, like feral hounds, prowled and dragged me
astray, to the wrong street.
And there —
the abyss.
No grocery here.
Only the void, yawning wide, insatiable, ravenous,
a Grand Canyon, misplaced in the geometric monotony
of concrete blocks — a scar on the skin of the ordinary.
Who sanctioned this?
Who gouged this chasm into the fabric of the mundane,
this rupture in the tapestry of the everyday?
We inhabit a world where everything
appears to matter —
blueprints, ideals, the ceaseless scramble for triumph,
the Sisyphean climb toward some illusory summit.
But time, that insidious thief, that silent eroder,
dissolves it all into the silt of oblivion.
What endures?
Laughter.
Laughter — not mirth, but a gasp,
a surrender to the absurd, a white flag waved
at the futility of it all.
It is the sound of a man
teetering on the precipice,
howling into the void
and hearing only his own echo reverberate,
a hollow chorus of his own insignificance.
But nothing matters only
when you are solitary,
when the world contracts to the size of your skull.
No wife, no child, no anniversaries to commemorate.
No one to observe, to decipher, to adore.
Laughter then is not liberation —
it is the wail of the forsaken,
the cry of a soul unmoored, adrift in the vast, indifferent sea.
Imagine the edge.
The abyss below, fathomless, voracious,
its maw gaping, hungry for meaning.
You can shriek, sob, summon aid —
but no one answers.
And so you laugh.
Not because it is droll,
but because it is the sole retort left to you,
the last weapon in your arsenal against the void.
If we cannot alter anything —
if the gears of fate grind on, indifferent to our pleas —
why even endeavor?
Insignificance is not a curse.
It is a peculiar emancipation,
a shedding of the weight of expectation.
Your blunders, your trepidations, your aspirations—
they are sandcastles, ephemeral and frail,
washed away by the tide of eternity.
Yet there is splendor in the act of construction,
in the fleeting defiance of entropy.
Even stone crumbles.
Even the most impregnable bastions succumb to time’s relentless siege.
Laughter cannot nourish the famished,
cannot solace the lovelorn.
It is a spark, evanescent,
a brief luminescence in the abyssal dark,
a fleeting exertion to convince yourself
that anguish and torment are illusory,
that the weight of existence is but a shadow on the wall.
And it is, perversely, amusing.
Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 9:04 PM UTC
Evanescent ghosts
share sad, glass secrets…
Beauty is transient
and eternity is dark.
Born and broken;
yet we laugh—
Celebrating these
sacred, porcelain selves.
Feb 9, 2025
Feb 9, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
The skies looked starless
I sculpted the moon with a clasp-knife
I felt the power of time
You told me to take back my share of loneliness and heartbreak
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 8:14 AM UTC
Do you still remember how we used to be?
Laughing and laughing beneath the sea
The thought of us being forever
I didn't realize that it was going to be over
Everytime my love for you grew
Now I realize, all of it wasn't true
Yet you realize that you're late
Well I'm sorry, but my feelings already fade
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 12:59 PM UTC
Hearts are
falling flowers.
Stars fall
evanescent
like leaves.
Rain falls
from grey skies
bluer than a waterfall.
Days do not pass.
Time just falls.
Everything around us
are falling within.
But if you're lost,
just go.
Let them fall,
just follow;
for where they do
is home.
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 7:50 PM UTC
All the times I loved in the past,
They now seem ephemeral,
Moving on always seemed impossible,
However, the word impossible,
Itself says, I'm possible!
My failures were evanescent dreams,
Were they not?
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 4:57 AM UTC
The Siren's song swimming into my ears,
sweetly against the harsh instrumental.
The angelic vocals flood all who hear;
a love of a melody so gentle.
Hair long and dark as the lyrics she sings,
eyes a bold green and skin a soft, pale tone.
A Goddess of elegance beauty brings,
whose talent does her no justice alone.
But nurture does as it will always do:
A son born from such grandeur; a Lion.
The immaculate voice is all but through;
A respite of lull sulks from the scion.
The achievements of song left in her wake;
I'll wait evermore, as long as it takes.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 4:10 PM UTC
Your great
Amazing
Lovely
TREASURE
Truthful
Loved
A
Best
FRIEND
*for
me
and
all
the
others*
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Ember is kind
Ember is smart
Ember is loving
Ember Is art
She is E.E.
And she forever is my friend
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
In this limited life
Spent on the pursuit of happiness
And the discovery of oneself
Maybe we have wasted too much time
Maybe we let the promise of happiness blind us
And settled for temporary pleasures
Maybe we let the fear of dying get to us
And mistook comfort for bliss
Maybe we should’ve been living
Not for the sake of just being alive
Not for the sake of collecting memories and moments
But for the sake of feeling alive and happy and content
Maybe we shouldn’t have ignored
The throbbing feeling in our chests
Maybe we shouldn’t have avoided
The gut-wrenching decisions we had to make
Because in our evanescent lives
We ignored the real things
And chased after fake butterflies
Even when we knew they were fake all along
And we tried so hard
To mask our pain and melancholy
With a stiff smile and a happy façade
And we shouldn’t have
We thought we were living
By avoiding the horrible parts of life
And putting up a beautiful façade
Of a life we didn’t allow ourselves to have
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC