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#flickering
My emotions get the best of me - intermittently. I preserve them in poems, like fluffy dinosaur feathers in amber, because emotions never last, as our present becomes our past, they flicker, like lightning bugs and disappear.
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Jun 20, 2022
Jun 20, 2022 at 8:49 PM UTC
proof
Are you alright? Seems like your A-U-R-A Keeps flickering.
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Mar 19, 2021
Mar 19, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC
Ora
_Twirling, taunting, Fluttering, flaunting, Silver with optimism, Wishing on a star._
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Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 4:38 AM UTC
Esther
Today I dreamt with ghosts and butterflies. Both shared contrasting symbolisms Glowing in dark transparency Or hidden-ly invisible? I'm lonely in the classroom. Nobody is interested in me. I'm wearing a bright blue sky shirt with my upper botton unbuttoned letting my hair go oblivious to the bullets that are being shot through. I don't know what's wrong in people: they love the unlovable they like the unlikely. Shallow portraits of intimate light getting lost in the flinch of an eye. And just like that: my dream dissapears. Right where the sun meets the sky and the tales of the night flicker, in the bright moonlight.
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Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 3:23 AM UTC
Last night's dream?
Like a candle, small fragile, easy to blow out with a set time to burn always flickering about like a candle, we live like the light; we burn short, but we burn bright.
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Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 3:14 AM UTC
like a candle
Before the day when my mind flickers Before the night when fear grabs my wrist Before the moment of emancipation When I lose my sanity, To the courageous fear beneath the beds of my heart. When the flood comes in dark, And the moon ditches without leaving a mark. I sink and sink. The way I feel possessed, The way mad I am, The way I know not about my constancy. I know I shall stumble, I know I may fall, Amid this, This which is no revelry.
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Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC
Fearing Freedom
A flickering lamp post, A quivering spotlight, Illuminating two souls sparring in the night. Time stands with him as she walks. The tragedy of loving. Is that simply being in love, Isn’t a good reason for two people to be together. Peace with her was worth the war, And he gave her pieces he never gave himself. The tragedy of loving. A faded memory of what once was, But the feelings still etched on his skin with fresh ink. He will feel those for the remainder of his life, Even though she won’t be apart of it.
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Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
The Tragedy of Loving
Where is my light? I seek it reach for it crave it But the light is only a candle It flickers is unpredictable how can i be a light when I have no light for myself? My doubt presses in My patience grows thin There seems to be darkness all around me Yet, there is a fire in me I have found my light but how long will it flicker? Will it ever go out?
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Apr 17, 2017
Apr 17, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
Light
As still as a flame in the wind was our relationship Wild, Deranged, a Soft dance Flickering in and out of existence
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
Flame
5000 years ago the shamans and the medicine workers looked into the fire they saw me and you you and I They saw us They called us gods smoking cigarettes They thought we breathed fire getting in and out of cars, trains, and planes They thought we could move between the realms of living and dead using computers, watching tv, talking on cellphones They thought limit was the thing not within our understanding the fire of the future showed them what they thought were gods they couldn't hear our flaws They couldn't smell our decay Through the fire They saw gods in the mirror most only see rot in the mirror most can't see past misplaced shame. ⓒ Christopher F. Brown 2015
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Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Flickering
You're sitting across a table, in the next room- and it's the month of July. And as the beads of sweat chip off your forehead like a shank of butcher's meat, your dorcel fin peaks through the sand where my toes peak through. The picnic table where I write letters; post cards. I take photos, make reservations, and even after I'm canceled on for walking around downtown in my bright neon-pink underwear, I still roll to the left side of the bed sit up and drop the cigarette I fell asleep on. You're just sitting, first entry: Stardom. I don't have room for you in the corners. The corners of this room, padded walls, shifty vaseline sway- the white cotton stick of a sucker pointing out of your mouth, its red numero forty dye shines in the specks of light flicking out of the horizon like a carousel ride around and around. I'm getting a bit dizzy, and even less honest. If you want to see me spring, like the silly string on my birthday, yellow silly-putty; molding the monster face, I observe you through a kaleidoscope of dexedrine and morphine. Your catastrophe with Xanax, passed out in alien-green ******* at that party in the abandoned firehouse on News St., how you could lay trust on me after that (a daydream with sawing you called me) sixteen-year-old mishap of an afternoon. &
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:31 AM UTC
Even While We're Itching
Flickering headlights Meeting my flickering glance. Which will burn out first?
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Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
Flickering haiku