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#imagining
I want to see our Souls in a thousand lives. How does your soul flow in the dark nights of the long past? How does your soft smile look in the lights of a future not yet here? In a world of strife and rebellion, in a land of peace and abundance. Where I am rock, and you are water, and where we are the same twisted knot of hate and love. I think my heart will ache the same, every time we start this game.
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Apr 23
Apr 23, 2026 at 1:43 PM UTC
Our Souls in a Thousand Lives
the clock, it ticks. tick    tock        tick             tock it keeps me awake in the silence of the night. that odd hour when it isn't quite midnight but also not quite dawn. it's deafening almost. it makes me hear things.. is there someone in the house? creak tick    tock        tick             tock no. maybe i should check. the clock, it ticks. and it keeps me up. i barely sleep.
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Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
tick tock.
snow. yuki. xue. nevicare. i long for it. days filled with ludiosis, with my heart split. gentle flakes on the window, as i lie in innity. warm side of the pillow, and i'm just being lazy. but that- that's not reality.
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Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 6:54 AM UTC
ᛝ♡ᛝ
Perched on the plank seat of the old wagon the dusty man gently jiggles the reins of his reliable old steeds, they as resolved as he to reach Archer City to get booked up. Larry was there with his white hair whittling his latest creation, an overweight manuscript sure to cause a sensation no matter its heft. They sat together talking til the fireflies flew, shared stories of books loves, and good bass hooks, reaching down to fetch a fresh brew when they got parched which was frequent as they spoke at length of men like Woodrow and Gus, how they cussed, poked, and stretched yarn after yarn. Larry’s gone to the barn but the guy who pulled up in that old wagon still is reading and yet yearns to revisit Texas lakes to fish bass, visit the local café, and eat a passel of pancakes or a big, tasty chicken fried steak.
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Jun 18, 2022
Jun 18, 2022 at 1:31 AM UTC
Man on the Wagon
Look Through the window watching paintbrush skies fade into a starlit night moving over us hurdling forward carrying our suitcases of reflections - worries, frustrations, relief. Look without seeing Because I'm imagining a memory - frightfully similar to predicting the future. Cornering the world, I'm turning away from paintbrush skies. Look back and forth between my canvas and my muse within and without my mind Moving with broad strokes that shrink into the detail Never quite sure if I'm seeing what's really ahead or in my head.
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 11:00 AM UTC
Paintbrush skies
A sky of painted rain from custard yellow clouds, fell beyond my gallery window glass. The grass a silken thread of cinnamon fire, vermillion and orange tea brewed strong and hot, which ran to choppy rivers damson plum and vintage flowing wine, stretched far beyond my own imagining to boiling seas of unknown hue. Did a morning ever dawn which held such colour and such light, If so it isn’t one I ever knew!
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Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 7:12 AM UTC
Orange Tea
I canʼt erase the feeling of your lips Trailing their way up and down my thighs The way your teeth dig into my hips The playful smirk while staring in your eyes My mind still constantly thinks of you The way you feel pressed against my back I know Iʼm really not supposed to But I miss your fingertips dancing around my neck I donʼt know how you have such a hold on me I canʼt even control my own thoughts Itʼs getting harder for me to even see The if thens and the what nots Your eyes, they take me to a place I really think they do.   No, I think we need some space, Baby, that's all you. You laugh, you scream, you cry. Embarrassed I'm seeing you this way, You're beautiful with tears in your eyes. I don't know what else to say.
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Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 3:27 PM UTC
Wake Me Up
If we take that one step, which swallows both our pride and worry of embarrassment, That one step of me grabbing your arm while you passed, or you clutching at mine as my face is painted on the pavement, would everything be resolved? or would only more hateful words be spoken? Years later I still cant be sure of our end.
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Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC
Would it?
REM moments are where dreams begin under the eye-lids the activity pulses with movement all that's seen is quite extraordinary you're climbing an unconquerable mountain and the ascent is so effortless nothing hampering what you've always had in mind this vision so live like all your night imaginings materialize men and women over the ages have bought their dreams to fruition the first step originated in nocturnal reverie as they strove forward on successes golden road yep them dreamers of the REM set achieving much through accessing the mind's phantasmagorical corridors
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
REM Moments
I've been here before. I've breathed this air. Let it take as long as it is going to take and breathe. I've tasted it before, this air, cinnamon and grass ale pulled from the cask old plasters pulled off at last and broken scabs, and there is salt and there is sugar in my tears. A giant circle, each head laid on the next shoulder. We are together.
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Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:12 PM UTC
Imagining Nostalgia
What is it about you that makes my desire an open wound sealed with your compassionate touch alone.. Why is it I  wince, haunted by thoughts adorned and quelled only by you. Paint me like a master With traces of  your stained hands along my gaping silhouette. Heal me with finger tips tainted by mine own blood. Draw me into your murderous self, Love me back to life.
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Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:38 AM UTC
Tainted
As I lay my bed at night, I'm begging my covers to hold me tight. Already closing my eyes but you're still in my sight. Hugging my pillow while looking at the window. Touching my own skin, I hope it was you I'm feeling. I'll just do it over and over again pretending you are here.
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Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
Virtual Reality
i don’t know how it could be? that now you are here for me you're always there to cheer me up when i feel like i'm about to pop how could i love you more? more than you're asking for i wish i could do the same embracing you when the rain came loving you with all of my heart like no one can break us apart…
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Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 7:27 AM UTC
How Could I Love You More?
My untrue fantasy, I fantasize it every day, Fantasizing how it would be wonderful if I had you, Oh the world seems to be having summer all year long, With you and me, My untrue fantasy will never be true, Fantasizing is the only way I could be with you, I am not capable of doing so in the ticking world, This fantasy This fantasy will always be the most exciting play of Hologram in my mind.
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Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 11:43 AM UTC
My untrue fantasy
*Paused on the veranda   for a poetic tête-à-tête, we sipped vintage wine   and spoke of days gone hither       when we were much greener,   tripping the nimbly light    and guzzling cheap beer into       the wee hours of night's obscurity, wiser and older, yet still imagining         one day we'll conquer the world, resigned to this present moment      we comfortably reminisce,                midst the effervescent                                 bubbly of reality*
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Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:05 AM UTC
Bubbly of Reality
It pains me, a bit to think about the possibilities of life if you were here, if I could watch your smile bloom upon your face see the signs of laughter brewing just after I’ve said something silly. I’d cook you dinner and blush with happiness when you teased me for my utter lack of skill and after you would make hot cocoa for our movie marathon and we’d have punch drunk discussions on the philosophy of psychopathic ****** for dessert. While the credits rolled your eyes would droop and your head, heavy with sleep would rest sweetly on my shoulder. Would I kiss you, then? Softly, so as not to ruin the mood? Or fierce and biting with the breaking of long-held restraint? Would you invite me to your bed? And if you did, would I accept? Or would I stroke your hair and kiss you a gentle goodnight at your bedroom door? Would we grow old together, counting wrinkles as they form, marking the days with ridiculous anniversaries: first kiss, first fight, first joint bout of pyromania? Or would it end, perish early like so many things are wont to do? Would you die first? Or would I? And when we were gone would we have anyone to tell stories about us and the crazy things we no doubt said and did? Would I ever tell you this poem was about you? Maybe. Maybe, if you were here, I could.
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Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
If You Were Here
I'm seeing things That aren't there Maybe it's from lack of sleep Or maybe cause I don't eat Either way I can hear feet Much to sharp to be safe Moving closer to me. I see shadows on the walls I hear crying in the halls I see a man much too tall I hear his laughing call. I see reflections in my phone I hear screams when I'm alone I see things no one knows I hear my mothers worried tone. FREEZE Close my eyes He can't see me I'll just hide I'm so close to being free I just have to quiet my cries And hope he cannot find Me hiding here. I hear him walking away, I think I'm in the cle-
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Please Leave My Home
I imagine your love To be like the taste Of wild-wild berries. I imagine your eyes To burn wildly With fiery passions. Your every breath To make me shudder, To make me yearn. For your mouth To gently whisper Against my tears.
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Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
WILD BERRIES TO LOVE
Will you remember me when days grow cold? When dark clouds close in and the ground dies under foot, When all the world falls into slumber and oneness, Will I fade from your consciousness? When I am gone will it hurt? Will I cry when you no longer think of me, and I die? To exist only as a thought in your head..... Life dependent on your thinking. Even a memory... at least then, I would be recalled from time to time, resurrected. I can't even be a memory because I never was... never really existed. Just something you one day thought up. I can only survive as long as you are thinking me, and continue entertaining the thought of me. You have no way to give birth to me. No way to make me exist in the material world. No way to make me solid. I am no more then an electrical impulse passed between the synapses in your brain. When they stop firing me to and fro I will cease to exist. What will become of me when you fizzle me out? Will you simply reabsorb me into your cells? Will I be cast out as waste? I turn to face my fate, yet you keep thinking me. Torturing me in a way, recalling me, adding to me, making me bigger, longer, more intricate. What price I'd pay for you to create me in reality. Impossible, I know... To be able to see you from the outside in, instead of inside out! To know the you, you present to the world. The strong, creative, mysterious, smart, confident, emotional you. The quiet you. Instead I know the inner you, the screaming, raging, crying, laughing, manipulative, intelligent, humorous you. Would I think of you the same....., could you manifest me into reality? Would you me......? You would know me after all, you thought me, you created me, you own me. Breathe life into my veins. You are me! Can I become a memory... of a thought... you once created? © Crystal Erickson 11/24/07
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Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
A Lonely Thought
Will you remember me when days grow cold? When dark clouds close in and the ground dies under foot, When all the world falls into slumber and oneness, Will I fade from your consciousness? When I am gone will it hurt? Will I cry when you no longer think of me, and I die? To exist only as a thought in your head..... Life dependent on your thinking. Even a memory... at least then, I would be recalled from time to time, resurrected. I can't even be a memory because I never was... never really existed. Just something you one day thought up. I can only survive as long as you are thinking me, and continue entertaining the thought of me. You have no way to give birth to me. No way to make me exist in the material world. No way to make me solid. I am no more then an electrical impulse passed between the synapses in your brain. When they stop firing me to and fro I will cease to exist. What will become of me when you fizzle me out? Will you simply reabsorb me into your cells? Will I be cast out as waste? I turn to face my fate, yet you keep thinking me. Torturing me in a way, recalling me, adding to me, making me bigger, longer, more intricate. What price I'd pay for you to create me in reality. Impossible, I know... To be able to see you from the outside in, instead of inside out! To know the you, you present to the world. The strong, creative, mysterious, smart, confident, emotional you. The quiet you. Instead I know the inner you, the screaming, raging, crying, laughing, manipulative, intelligent, humorous you. Would I think of you the same....., could you manifest me into reality? Would you me......? You would know me after all, you thought me, you created me, you own me. Breathe life into my veins. You are me! Can I become a memory... of a thought... you once created? © Crystal Erickson 11/24/07
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I imagine your mind, imagining mine, as we imagine yours. © Matthew Harlovic
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Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
Be Mind(ful) - 10w
I wonder, and wonder, Maybe so much I don't know what's going on, It's as if I try and block, Rather sit in silence than to talk, Imagining, Dreaming, and wondering, The thoughts about what I want, Thoughts about how I want to serve, Serve those around me, The mark I want to leave on this Earth, The person I want to be, The things I wish I could free, I may be small and young, But I've got a plan to do good, I know I haven't had that plan set out I know I should, But I guess that's how it is and I wish it would, I wish it would be a plan sought out the way I want, Its like a fog, Like those ones on a cold Monday morning, Im in a haze, More like a daze, It's unclear of what is to come, Maybe that's the beauty in it all, Once you come closer and see the things you are confronted with, You find out what to do, Just if I knew It's like a fog, I am unaware of what may be in front of me I guess thats what my life is meant to be, That time will come when I set myself free.
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Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
In a Haze