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#nutshells
Make-believe multiverses written in the Rain Petrichor        Ichor        Blood of (my) gods Congeal. Thick. Rich, putrid poultry pan                                                                         opticon                                                                         theon The bigger I am the smaller I am, King of nutshells, In ambition I beg--beggar butcher Kingly kind **** beggar--look In, give in, cave out implosion (my)   God demands sacrifice; copper liquid spills, fresh,                                  Replace                                                old blood                                                                 Regicide,                                                      Warm                                        running                                  red                          over                 Mars, Vallies of dead bones they Make a noise (crunch) like Nutshells Eggshells                  White emaciated pale weathered withered                  wothered wondered want I want I wont ...     A  L I L Y  S T A N D S In  v a n i t y  v a l l e y G r e e n blue v i o l e t T r e m b l i n g I--I am Cold        I can't feel my hands. I rush rash rip stem And all Timeless life                      Look how it not dies in my hands.                        Look                                I can't see Unstuck by time trapped In this eternity, make-believe, Flower fickle, it is A sentinel robbed of its post, Eons past will pass before decay, L I L Y ' S  F A I T H --Can't Let go of this moment, just Let it die in peace, In v a n i t y  v a l l e y Of bones dry dying... When I wake up I see a man Whose hands are open and eyes Are free to wander. He is royalty--a royal beggar, A dry flower pierces His heart--it rains                                River                                          run red                                                       with                                                               orange juice sun Squeeze. His hands on his sides. On sand and seashells. Open valley, horrible horizon. Celestial cosmos ocean sky is That it? Is that me? Do I raise my hands or f                                           a                                             l                                              l                                               To the ground. Beg. Where are my gods? This Sun is too bright, I can't see. The cold. I blow breaths of smoke. Vapour vanish too Cold. I can't feel my hands. Go Back Inside.
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Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 1:26 PM UTC
Untitled
Make-believe multiverses written in the Rain Petrichor        Ichor        Blood of (my) gods Congeal. Thick. Rich, putrid poultry pan                                                                         opticon                                                                         theon The bigger I am the smaller I am, King of nutshells, In ambition I beg--beggar butcher Kingly kind **** beggar--look In, give in, cave out implosion (my)   God demands sacrifice; copper liquid spills, fresh,                                  Replace                                                old blood                                                                 Regicide,                                                      Warm                                        running                                  red                          over                 Mars, Vallies of dead bones they Make a noise (crunch) like Nutshells Eggshells                  White emaciated pale weathered withered                  wothered wondered want I want I wont ...     A  L I L Y  S T A N D S In  v a n i t y  v a l l e y G r e e n blue v i o l e t T r e m b l i n g I--I am Cold        I can't feel my hands. I rush rash rip stem And all Timeless life                      Look how it not dies in my hands.                        Look                                I can't see Unstuck by time trapped In this eternity, make-believe, Flower fickle, it is A sentinel robbed of its post, Eons past will pass before decay, L I L Y ' S  F A I T H --Can't Let go of this moment, just Let it die in peace, In v a n i t y  v a l l e y Of bones dry dying... When I wake up I see a man Whose hands are open and eyes Are free to wander. He is royalty--a royal beggar, A dry flower pierces His heart--it rains                                River                                          run red                                                       with                                                               orange juice sun Squeeze. His hands on his sides. On sand and seashells. Open valley, horrible horizon. Celestial cosmos ocean sky is That it? Is that me? Do I raise my hands or f                                           a                                             l                                              l                                               To the ground. Beg. Where are my gods? This Sun is too bright, I can't see. The cold. I blow breaths of smoke. Vapour vanish too Cold. I can't feel my hands. Go Back Inside.
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Today I graduate I realize how short life is It seems like yesterday I was on the playground Playing dodgeball and other rowdy games Picked last from the bunch but kept smiling I was always the shorter one The weaker one Inside I always was stronger Stronger then even Hercules Middle school I was pushed around Bullied for being myself But I still stayed strong High school I made real friends I could be myself Now I will be starting a new chapter The book of life is only just beginning I am the acorn on the tree I fell far from it One day I'm going to be a bigger tree My life in a nutshell Literally
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
life in a nutshell