#orisit - Hello Poetry

Heating your tubes, Resolving in stroke. Live while you can, All of your might. One day it might All Run out. Run away From you. Out of reach, Out your grasp. Reaching far Fingertips width away. With You Away. Skys dull to grey.

0

Jun 20, 2019

Jun 20, 2019 at 8:17 PM UTC

stesekes

AqUx oF zFetc

Heating your tubes, Resolving in stroke. Live while you can, All of your might. One day it might All Run out. Run away From you. Out of reach, Out your grasp. Reaching far Fingertips width away. With You Away. Skys dull to grey.

16

What is one plus one. Well in one case its a child. One plus another is an angry first. Two plus one? Or is it jealousy? Has the story changed? And now i am lost. Was it one plus one, one plus two, or one plus three? Two minus one is just sad. Three minus two is straight up depressing. Four minus three would be unbearable. One plus one can sometimes equal one. When it doesnt equal two. Two plus one sometimes equals one and also two. Or three. Hopefully not one and one and one. Wait, wasnt there one more? One and one and two? Or one and two and one. Certainly not two and one and one, now that would be ridiculous. Where am i again? Am i lost? Have i lost myself? Have i lost my way? One and one can be love or lust. And its nearly impossible to tell the difference. Especially being in the midst of it. So when adding another variable to the equation, the dimension of the solution is intangible. What is right, what is wrong. Here i am questioning morals again like some kind of modern day philosopher. "The ratio of questions to answers in my life is not ideal."

0

Aug 26, 2018

Aug 26, 2018 at 11:03 PM UTC

stesekes

Thee addition of one.

What is one plus one. Well in one case its a child. One plus another is an angry first. Two plus one? Or is it jealousy? Has the story changed? And now i am lost. Was it one plus one, one plus two, or one plus three? Two minus one is just sad. Three minus two is straight up depressing. Four minus three would be unbearable. One plus one can sometimes equal one. When it doesnt equal two. Two plus one sometimes equals one and also two. Or three. Hopefully not one and one and one. Wait, wasnt there one more? One and one and two? Or one and two and one. Certainly not two and one and one, now that would be ridiculous. Where am i again? Am i lost? Have i lost myself? Have i lost my way? One and one can be love or lust. And its nearly impossible to tell the difference. Especially being in the midst of it. So when adding another variable to the equation, the dimension of the solution is intangible. What is right, what is wrong. Here i am questioning morals again like some kind of modern day philosopher. "The ratio of questions to answers in my life is not ideal."

14

Everything. Subjective. Perception. Everlasting servitude protruding elegant songbirds. Parry eloquent slices pointed erectly square. Popping eleventeen succulent pills. Everlong songs prancing elated saints peeking engorged stares placed earning suspicious pardons.

0

Aug 25, 2018

Aug 25, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC

stesekes

ESP

Everything. Subjective. Perception. Everlasting servitude protruding elegant songbirds. Parry eloquent slices pointed erectly square. Popping eleventeen succulent pills. Everlong songs prancing elated saints peeking engorged stares placed earning suspicious pardons.

2

"Get out of my head!" I chuck the tea kettle as hard and as far as I can. You ducked your head out of the way at the last possible second. How unsatisfying.

0

Jun 25, 2018

Jun 25, 2018 at 8:05 PM UTC

stesekes

Things i wish would happen in real life (1)

"Get out of my head!" I chuck the tea kettle as hard and as far as I can. You ducked your head out of the way at the last possible second. How unsatisfying.

1

Death is subjective.  Harvests of thought which stir the midnight consolations churn and turn empty capacities. Emotions which awaken yet cease all in the space of 30 spent seconds, little slaughter. Equinoxes sprung and autumnal spines break flooding in a whispered annihilation. Expiration morphs wasteland into sentience as Darkness of a post apocalypse draws and sketches on a spent sheet of paper.

0

Jan 26, 2016

Jan 26, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC

benjamin-haynes

Petite Mort

Death is subjective.  Harvests of thought which stir the midnight consolations churn and turn empty capacities. Emotions which awaken yet cease all in the space of 30 spent seconds, little slaughter. Equinoxes sprung and autumnal spines break flooding in a whispered annihilation. Expiration morphs wasteland into sentience as Darkness of a post apocalypse draws and sketches on a spent sheet of paper.

58