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#quivering
Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design, circumvolute within circumspatial paradigms malign, as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse. Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse, catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse, whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite, obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night. A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast, consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage of our shared Jungian past, germinates within the syntagmatic— Ever relaxed or ecstatic, Coalesced to pragmatic, Lugubriously emphatic. For naught but vacuous profundities remain, a simulacrum of the arcane mundane, where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise.
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Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 8:56 PM UTC
What even is English ? Dictionary time
Billows of fog are quickly creeping in, white as smoke, forming into a wavy set of steps suspended...quivering, and now beckons to me, a soft voice calls my name tells me not to be afraid...that it's okay to climb the foggy stairs, "i'll be there to meet you at the top," the voice assured me... i must see the owner of the soft voice, i feel i know him...he knows me well! my right foot hesitates...but rises, to take a step... suddenly, a blow on my right arm makes me open my eyes 👀 👀 my sister, sound asleep, turns to my side, and accidentally hits my arm just in time, ::::::::::::::: i was dreaming of my late father, .................................again. sally b Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan February
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Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 4:59 AM UTC
Foggy Steps
Your toes curl under quivering breath      in abandon to the power of sweet caress         yes           yes! Yes! to the dripping ecstasy of our union      to the penetrated walls of the Self we dance wildly through puddles & stains        free of the pains of fetters and chains           Free! we cast into the fire the boundaries of flesh      & weave our bodies into euphoric mesh prostrate at the flowing alter of Love.
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Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 3:34 PM UTC
Penetrated Walls of the Self
All happened in one day, that **** day. I was at that bookstore - Quivering while waiting for you. My mind was suspended for every thought I had. I was quivering, panicking - You arrived. And then, every little thought suddenly vanished.
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May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 3:19 AM UTC
Friday -
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
You have imprinted all your memories here, And now you do not have to at all fear. You just tell me what and I will not just hear, With all my soul I will always strive to listen. You look beautiful in the night lamp dear, For all the beads of your sweat will glisten. You look gorgeous with those pearls there, From your forehead they all are descended. You appear youthful with those curls there, Around your ears they all are so nicely coiled. You appear deadly with those curvy eyes, Lucky me I'll cherish their charms for lifelong. You look fabulous with your lips quivering, Even in my dreams I have not been luckier.
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Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC
Your Memoirs
What have I done I've done it now Ended it all Realised that there is no going back From that moment forward Injustice was done By my hands My hands are stained With the blood of another That knife The knife that was in my possession Through the foundations The foundations of the human body The body of another Which is shivering Shaking Quivering Ending What have I done?
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Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
What Have I Done
Notice given, but not consoled; The trembling of the soul. Occurring at the helm, Of the notion of the self. I am dizzied in the frenzy, A coursing without entry.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:12 AM UTC
01.07.2014:Brink
In the stillness that you keep, there's a story to be yielded.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 3:40 AM UTC
But the heart beats, too.