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#vitality
When the dopamine hits Tongue whips Colours claw My heart skips I start to warm To people, the outside When the dopamine hits Play, quips Imagination is alive.
0
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 12:17 AM UTC
Hip thrusts and gold dust
Eighty or eighty? Their eighty is old, but I -- am not one of them.
0
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 2:13 AM UTC
[ Eighty or eighty ]
We are doing well, we are not afraid of death -- only of decay.
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May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 2:13 AM UTC
[ We are doing well ]
Moccan in my soul is a hundred thousand years where China says s Juang si. It would be better to put my head down, like ostrich birds permanently. After all, a little creation or creation is already trapped - just so - on halfway. The vapor of a silent stuttering, which is multiplied by the number of stuttering, is panting: how and how to carry on, if a well-ringed, pre-planned plan has passed through, or is it a left-wing ladder of fate?! The minutes of the pockets have long been sold to the wealthier stroma frenys and money-people, that they only own the possibilities, procurement and tenders only; They themselves are increasingly noticed now that they are increasingly able to mimic the petty joyful dariders of their greedy selfishness. Perhaps nowadays, silent witnesses, or forced to listen, have been fled, and they wanted to testify, because they could secretly realize that almost nothing could change here, but everything was dilapidated or permanently ruined. - The Peace Promenade is less and less possible to find or find it, as everyone is in the interest of selfish-worsening. Silent cavities are in the depths of the tin can-souls empty ... There are often arguments and counter -arguments in the volume of the lungs, because they cannot be proven; Things and situations are less and less exhausted, and they do not accept the good friend or the beggar of the bark. Rust scent on garbage waste!
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Mar 28, 2025
Mar 28, 2025 at 11:04 PM UTC
Soul-silence canned
Fossilized smiles, starting, small -style, superficial gestures, splashing, rattling as broken flowers, not only in the heart of bribes - but also from ***** syrupy, self -stamping shows. The question of the already boredom, how am I in the boredom? The sober, logical free -thought thought -if at all -stops the sans, to discuss sans as a meaningful, intelligent adult, because it is customary only in the top ten thousand, or in cafes renovated for billions, gentlemen. Romance, beautiful eating, helpful, unselfish love smiles are no longer what was and could have been; The handcuffs of pity came, while the love passion of the universe is a sharpened spear, which leaves killer-stigma wounds, which are increasingly difficult to heal. The uncertainty disillusioned from the whites of the soul is echose's ventricular response: a crumbling, smelling blasphemy every five minutes, any kind of sour cream, like a parent or an attractive nurse. The entire Alamus line of compromise negotiating positions was deadlock: "Do you still love honestly and really nice?! Or do I just need a good social status, and do you need relationships that you can boast of any of your partner queen girlfriends as a diva?!
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Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 11:01 PM UTC
Hearts in the world of statuses
You may not be crying for your forgotten pigeon hairs here; It began to scream, and for the nights, when you have almost gotten the nightmares of the nightmares, the dog could not remember it. Every decade, you still need to take all the lawyer of your life, the guillotine movement of the petty, envious, insidious gazes, which will get closer and closer to the promises of small-shaped retaliation. Straits wounded the outlines of your childhood back, which, in a short time, was completely tired, but you couldn't say anything, and you didn't pay attention because you were a minor legally, humanly. In your eternal child, the weathered, slightly stubborn face shows the harsh-trenches that you believe to be lost that you can no longer get back; nor in the form of gift or privileged gestures - your inner soul falls cannot even erase the traces of your conscious selfishness. - You book your losses in a nice line, your Talmi-ócska merits, with which you either intentionally bread, or trampled your remaining dignity. The stigma mines faded in trembling, trembling inside are tense, shouting, or just begging: "Where do you stay for such a dear angel, who with your one glance you comfort the restless whimpering, orphaned worn-out kids I stayed?! Apocryphal secrets. Celeb-smelling exibitionist **** is the romantic self-pity of sentimentalism and the glass pots of mosaic. The last adolescents cherish dandelion loves because - maybe - they have no mood for the world of superficial, muddy absolute adults!
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Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC
A shipwreck in the inventory of Odyssey
You may not be crying for your forgotten pigeon hairs here; It began to scream, and for the nights, when you have almost gotten the nightmares of the nightmares, the dog could not remember it. Every decade, you still need to take all the lawyer of your life, the guillotine movement of the petty, envious, insidious gazes, which will get closer and closer to the promises of small-shaped retaliation. Straits wounded the outlines of your childhood back, which, in a short time, was completely tired, but you couldn't say anything, and you didn't pay attention because you were a minor legally, humanly. In your eternal child, the weathered, slightly stubborn face shows the harsh-trenches that you believe to be lost that you can no longer get back; nor in the form of gift or privileged gestures - your inner soul falls cannot even erase the traces of your conscious selfishness. - You book your losses in a nice line, your Talmi-ócska merits, with which you either intentionally bread, or trampled your remaining dignity. The stigma mines faded in trembling, trembling inside are tense, shouting, or just begging: "Where do you stay for such a dear angel, who with your one glance you comfort the restless whimpering, orphaned worn-out kids I stayed?! Apocryphal secrets. Celeb-smelling exibitionist **** is the romantic self-pity of sentimentalism and the glass pots of mosaic. The last adolescents cherish dandelion loves because - maybe - they have no mood for the world of superficial, muddy absolute adults!
Continue reading...
5
In front of us is a messy, -to say, -in the ***** of a stoic, tuna indifference, perhaps a bit persecuted, human -wreeds, give each other; I still want to save their movable values. Not only the spiritual poor-but also the turrannos that want to be of power, suffer from unknown blindness, because well-suited false interests are cheap, lying, and even so, the average is the same. There may have been nicer, more successful worlds all over themselves, and as light promises, anyone who is still very susceptible to it was well-placed. Initially, all wills and intentions are creative and evolving, and in the meantime, it becomes manipulated, which runs through hand and middle and is ready for a pseudo -illusion, in which, undoubtedly, it can even be clung to a couple of decades, but after an accelerated disappointment; What was the point of formulas for dreams of card castles?! - Because the consciousness is increasingly not taking its place in its possible van. And while upstairs, the pigeons who are desiring to fall in the sky can raid and they can empty their waste material in their mourning, the simple average can hardly wipe not only the liquid snow-white snacks on his head, but also the petty bribery of capitalized life. It would be good to steal the expandable time, as well as the secret of Eden, a little for ordinary people; Instead of an imaginary joy and apparent, acute happiness crushes, extend the tangible prosperity that you. Not only spiritus, but even the Sus, is losing weight too early.
0
Mar 19, 2025
Mar 19, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
The tyrannical illusion of perseverance
In front of us is a messy, -to say, -in the ***** of a stoic, tuna indifference, perhaps a bit persecuted, human -wreeds, give each other; I still want to save their movable values. Not only the spiritual poor-but also the turrannos that want to be of power, suffer from unknown blindness, because well-suited false interests are cheap, lying, and even so, the average is the same. There may have been nicer, more successful worlds all over themselves, and as light promises, anyone who is still very susceptible to it was well-placed. Initially, all wills and intentions are creative and evolving, and in the meantime, it becomes manipulated, which runs through hand and middle and is ready for a pseudo -illusion, in which, undoubtedly, it can even be clung to a couple of decades, but after an accelerated disappointment; What was the point of formulas for dreams of card castles?! - Because the consciousness is increasingly not taking its place in its possible van. And while upstairs, the pigeons who are desiring to fall in the sky can raid and they can empty their waste material in their mourning, the simple average can hardly wipe not only the liquid snow-white snacks on his head, but also the petty bribery of capitalized life. It would be good to steal the expandable time, as well as the secret of Eden, a little for ordinary people; Instead of an imaginary joy and apparent, acute happiness crushes, extend the tangible prosperity that you. Not only spiritus, but even the Sus, is losing weight too early.
Continue reading...
4
Who else remembers the faithful, friendly handshake, which we used to give each other a gift of each other as the pledge of possible adult lives?! Next to our eyes, the raven-born, attractive little hind legs are trembling, while our thinning hair, which began to be bald, testifies to decades of turning reversal. In the harbor of the sea bays, Lorelalay fairy shape, unfolds his long hair, on which the water drops are still trembling as the pearls of real beads, and his superstitious gaze still says, "Don't be afraid of anything! I will save from all the Galad -Komis troubles that this traitorous world will deliver to us! This is how the exclusion of conscious loneliness was once; When we thought we were eternal childish, adolescent, that the so-called. Absolute adults can never speak anymore because it does not belong to them. And while the soft heads were overgrown, and some of their children were born, somewhere that little man had a far away, and on the jersey of the cooked weekdays, fearful, we can hear his child -mouthed intellect. The deeply hidden silent man was unexpectedly knocked, and while he was hesitant, we were stuck on the chessboard of the capitalized life: that we should go where we should go or just happen to be happy and happy.
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Mar 18, 2025
Mar 18, 2025 at 11:03 PM UTC
SILENCE AGES KNOCKING
He was deeply concerned about this step -by -step, apocalyptic earth order. Invisible, infectious, circling atomic jets are pregnant fruits and vegetables. From the harons of the rotten furrows, even the gillys and worm-fenes have long been extinct or fled. They took their tent pain like some. Modern man, with modern digital drone tools and the needle-pointed destinations of target designs, still crafts his fellow human beings. Spirally wrapped in snake -like maze -feared -no longer and may not be a solution; Others dictate not only the statutes of the game, but also -perhaps -in the earthly confusion, the mere existence of existence. In the gray prison of concrete frame, even the smell of formalin is stagnated and degraded into an increasingly unbearable nausea. The robe of wounded souls is now increasingly ravens to tear, wrinkles, as if it were a bunnied Prometheus who could never be rid of underworld vulture, stolen the fire for the withered people. As an uninvited guests, Katyusa was wandering around, bombshell, while a crumbling machine is screaming into the melodies of the Ruttering Winds. The replaced, former childhood dreams are now criminal on the appealing hanger of life to you. They still wanted to dream of a livelier future, but maybe hopeless; Pale cheese-moon would illuminate the messages of mystical flyers with Pisla tiger nails ... A tiny, innocent lie is enough for someone to press that particular red button, and while life is so fragile as the grass that nature or human feet can be trampled at any time, we hang on to be tolerated, forced on the degree of chessboard, either straw or waxy, inanimate!
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Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 11:05 PM UTC
Hanging tree performance dreams
He was deeply concerned about this step -by -step, apocalyptic earth order. Invisible, infectious, circling atomic jets are pregnant fruits and vegetables. From the harons of the rotten furrows, even the gillys and worm-fenes have long been extinct or fled. They took their tent pain like some. Modern man, with modern digital drone tools and the needle-pointed destinations of target designs, still crafts his fellow human beings. Spirally wrapped in snake -like maze -feared -no longer and may not be a solution; Others dictate not only the statutes of the game, but also -perhaps -in the earthly confusion, the mere existence of existence. In the gray prison of concrete frame, even the smell of formalin is stagnated and degraded into an increasingly unbearable nausea. The robe of wounded souls is now increasingly ravens to tear, wrinkles, as if it were a bunnied Prometheus who could never be rid of underworld vulture, stolen the fire for the withered people. As an uninvited guests, Katyusa was wandering around, bombshell, while a crumbling machine is screaming into the melodies of the Ruttering Winds. The replaced, former childhood dreams are now criminal on the appealing hanger of life to you. They still wanted to dream of a livelier future, but maybe hopeless; Pale cheese-moon would illuminate the messages of mystical flyers with Pisla tiger nails ... A tiny, innocent lie is enough for someone to press that particular red button, and while life is so fragile as the grass that nature or human feet can be trampled at any time, we hang on to be tolerated, forced on the degree of chessboard, either straw or waxy, inanimate!
Continue reading...
5
My dream-to-cover makes it void of the dawn; My coma ears are hit by a dull, no noise, the eternal noise of the big cities as an anthill. The lazy worldwide wind still shakes the spring -tamed mood, in which no one can feel the summer forgotten of the summer. Relaxing, harmonious desires seemed to be intent, just like most shipwrecks; My soul and in my heart are secretly two double shadows, which may be increasingly difficult to decipher, especially for those who practice empathy tolerance not only with well-ringing words but also. As a cataract, many manipulates the deceived blindness, as well as the harsh -smelling blindfold: anyone who has made a bargain -knowing about himself -is a human law over himself, that is, eternal, unbearable slave tax. - Often, my puffs carrying the wreath of distorted grimaces are more than compelled, because of strange bile, vomiting grimaces on it as thick-hearted layers. The melody of a damp, dull indifference, like a whip, knocks into my heart: a condemned accusation is the redeeming love of the universe as a gift, as one of the possible antidote to the happy immortality in moments. Calculated chess game -feared -never escapes because he could leave eternal doubt, as well as self -denial of conscience. As a wound, only the boredom of boredom, later in the sober, conscious doubt: how should it be different, forbidden, forbidden, or even lame-and-whining, to get out of the grinding treadmill of everyday life?
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Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 11:01 PM UTC
Wreath of forced grimaces
Kerouac tattooed skin shows secret signs, vision signs; The more striking, the better they are. Peace loan bread rarely returns, just like the money ends at nine at the cashians will deliberately take a worthless little money. Still, in the suits that began to be disgusted, the big Cula-Weais were still able to stay, and they dared to stay, because everyone was a crook, even the son of the housekeeper and the washer. The world would not only pull the curtains of a kitschy, ordered fog that repulsive, but even packs a few tons of shovels to make the simple minority even harder. Lightweight, small -style women seem to have a little stronger makeup and needle heels, who, although they promised their parents, would hopefully get home safely in half before midnight, and the end result is only nine months later. Flower petals tear the accelerating time. "Is Ágnes like the Melós Kisitós Géza, who is torn off from the branch? Nowadays, even more and more people would want to be ironed once, and for all, they have become a shipwreck, and their mortal everyday life and pigeon fibers are combed from the bald-dandruff head of decades. With the rags of our memories, it would be good to look for and find the grip points that are secured again; Dogs crouching in alley smells are homeless, while semi -full demonstrations flow, like the blood of twilight red wine with tablet smells. Perhaps only the Savior Death Consciousness can bring about the final amnesty that can be a redeeming death of death!
0
Mar 15, 2025
Mar 15, 2025 at 10:56 PM UTC
Kerouac tattoos
Kerouac tattooed skin shows secret signs, vision signs; The more striking, the better they are. Peace loan bread rarely returns, just like the money ends at nine at the cashians will deliberately take a worthless little money. Still, in the suits that began to be disgusted, the big Cula-Weais were still able to stay, and they dared to stay, because everyone was a crook, even the son of the housekeeper and the washer. The world would not only pull the curtains of a kitschy, ordered fog that repulsive, but even packs a few tons of shovels to make the simple minority even harder. Lightweight, small -style women seem to have a little stronger makeup and needle heels, who, although they promised their parents, would hopefully get home safely in half before midnight, and the end result is only nine months later. Flower petals tear the accelerating time. "Is Ágnes like the Melós Kisitós Géza, who is torn off from the branch? Nowadays, even more and more people would want to be ironed once, and for all, they have become a shipwreck, and their mortal everyday life and pigeon fibers are combed from the bald-dandruff head of decades. With the rags of our memories, it would be good to look for and find the grip points that are secured again; Dogs crouching in alley smells are homeless, while semi -full demonstrations flow, like the blood of twilight red wine with tablet smells. Perhaps only the Savior Death Consciousness can bring about the final amnesty that can be a redeeming death of death!
Continue reading...
4
They put the man out of the big whole, that you. Try to cultivate the time of mortality. Inside, in the manipulated one-depth of the soul, the happy-sad dust of the past decades fluttering as sand. Because eternal moments would be good to adhere to the storage of cell-molecules, like Velcro fasteners or magnets. After forty, big harvesting begins; Thus, who tries to collect the fruit that was deserved in the way of serving crickets, or even enthusiastic ants, even what they thought could be sacrificed. Coincidents were hanging on robbery chains, as they could have been able to stand the day -to -day pressure differences, which would have been good to compensate. The signs of life are already reflected in vain by the witnessed footprints, and the earthworms are furthermen, who are aware of the more true significance of the floods. A thin clearing gap between our crowded feelings is increasingly rarely attacking; Secret, guessing Vates movements only rarely sing. Wherever you go, you are surrounded by obstacles, bad, unobtrusive fences everywhere in your life, which you may not be able to get rid of. The unprotected victims dance at the edges of the gaps; Thick anniversary rings hiding in the year -rounds still hide the values ​​of our mortality. Time now, with increasingly uncertain charge, click-and-tongue in the century! - Anti -falsifying dazzles play with the diodes of the inner vocals that can be used, which we may even forget to show ourselves. The hope of returning is still under the surface, but there is no one who finds it, holds it, comfort it with sincere, fearful will, and wants to take care!
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Mar 14, 2025
Mar 14, 2025 at 10:54 PM UTC
ECHOES OF VATESZ RESPONSES
They put the man out of the big whole, that you. Try to cultivate the time of mortality. Inside, in the manipulated one-depth of the soul, the happy-sad dust of the past decades fluttering as sand. Because eternal moments would be good to adhere to the storage of cell-molecules, like Velcro fasteners or magnets. After forty, big harvesting begins; Thus, who tries to collect the fruit that was deserved in the way of serving crickets, or even enthusiastic ants, even what they thought could be sacrificed. Coincidents were hanging on robbery chains, as they could have been able to stand the day -to -day pressure differences, which would have been good to compensate. The signs of life are already reflected in vain by the witnessed footprints, and the earthworms are furthermen, who are aware of the more true significance of the floods. A thin clearing gap between our crowded feelings is increasingly rarely attacking; Secret, guessing Vates movements only rarely sing. Wherever you go, you are surrounded by obstacles, bad, unobtrusive fences everywhere in your life, which you may not be able to get rid of. The unprotected victims dance at the edges of the gaps; Thick anniversary rings hiding in the year -rounds still hide the values ​​of our mortality. Time now, with increasingly uncertain charge, click-and-tongue in the century! - Anti -falsifying dazzles play with the diodes of the inner vocals that can be used, which we may even forget to show ourselves. The hope of returning is still under the surface, but there is no one who finds it, holds it, comfort it with sincere, fearful will, and wants to take care!
Continue reading...
5
The world is now cosmos, Donga's legs are still moving towards the cosmos; Stone, whimsical, silent celestial star in the nests of stratospheres. Other times, in a negative way, he would almost flatten himself back to another galaxy if possible. At the edge of existence itself, there may have been some confusion between the two endpoints of the silence that no one has understood nowadays. It may be better to flee from sun-busters that look helpless, because they can't even listen to more experienced, wise words that the scientist gave birth to their brains; On wandering serpentine trails, they march over our heads in the way of curling snakes, which have been disgusted, and for decades. The loosened staples of the souls were as if they had long been rusted, as the lubricant oil was also being cut by someone. The Dariido People are now increasingly stinking from the arrogance of the Hübris-nourished manner, and they smell so daddy in their souls, although they are stretching out of the outside in a branded suit and showing the imagined standard; Tiny shiny rings shine in the heroic lovers, while the night falls back into the darkness of the night. Uncertain, the world still feels the selfish-mown truth, which he can never prove enough, and his victims have become unprotected by dedicated to the hopes of survival to the hope of a better and noble period. Perhaps the earthly fruits of the universe will also be trapped halfway?!
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Mar 10, 2025
Mar 10, 2025 at 10:58 PM UTC
Sunfighters and rusty souls
The millions of life, a manipulated life, and a finger pushes the countless small -style, bustling worms that are unnoticed in people's cells; Doubtful, nobody's house bargainers - perhaps they rarely notice themselves - open unnoticed, and even the dense, rich amber indaire surround the bribed life. Because now many are in a way that they would rather intentionally leave themselves to be disinfected; They adhere to layers and layers of alamus, while scars, seams, and old stigma halves lied to healing. Now everyone has been reset, at most, just not those who are puffing on the top of a certain peak of a certain untouchable social pyramid, cruising on snow -white yachts. Behind seeing eyelids can open gaps that only listen to the deceased heart alone: ​​are you with me or just against me?! - Crystal clear emotions seeking sincerity, openness, tolerance are silently and fast - if they were at all - and anyone who could have been on the open street who had finally collapsed at the corner of a bus stop ... A lounged Fecalia roller with his legs with his feet, a derailed man-life, and he can't understand how, and how he could now get a bread in the pig mud and connect some everyday snacks. - There are always cracks between the crease of silence if the real essence is not recognized early!
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Feb 26, 2025
Feb 26, 2025 at 9:56 PM UTC
an unplated society
when you feel bitterness       l i n g e ring at the back                 of the throat, let it burn  s l o w l y             like a dancing flame rising from                  beneath                                  you where the sharpest edge meets a     r   g   n   s   a                     a    i   g    e   with the strength            of a feather balancing           lightly upon an ostrich's back: d     i       v          e     into     black waters for light           is here                 too,            so       come back            to your home        and sing your song from the damp         dark exquisite roots of your being.
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Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 9:07 AM UTC
Vitality
sometimes the pain sits lightly atop my hair never flowing past my shoulders never dipping down below my collarbones but sometimes the pain envelops me, knee deep it buries itself in my shabby shoes touching each toe and its nail, not leaving a part of me out sometimes the pain leaks into my mouth and becomes a weapon wielded with regret stains form on my clothes from ****** bullets ricocheting sometimes the pain becomes my voice, hijacking my speech and blending it into violence my flesh the proof that pain once owned me but it doesn’t it doesn’t own me i let it think that it owns me as it terrorizes each and every salty tear i let tumble bears witness, but they know it’s just a way to get me to stray from the stability i deserve the pain isn’t who i am it doesn’t define me at all it doesn’t make me any less strong or brave or fearless it gives me reason to believe that although pain does not own me neither does happiness a state of limbo, sometimes suffering i own my pain, giving it power ever so often giving it the chance to destroy me, yet it never does it never comes with blades or doubt or anger no matter how brutal the battle, the pain will always crumble beneath my feet and i will not let it crawl up my spine and rest atop my hair from now on i can be free from the pain that confines me from the false happiness that life begs you to accept i can be free in the choice to believe to believe to believe
0
Jun 21, 2023
Jun 21, 2023 at 7:58 PM UTC
vitality
~ *Bergamot morning the astronauts are sleeping and she dreams like a mannequin ceiling stars abound like hummingbirds in celestial flight about the nectar of young bodies, young machines we drew a map together from burst to bloom from fever to neckline from scale to mirror pretty scar, a thing of awe when the curious girl realized she was under glass raining in time lapse she traversed me ad rem with might and main I didn't have the heart to wake us from her brainchild's motif* ~
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Jun 8, 2023
Jun 8, 2023 at 2:07 PM UTC
Her Space Holiday
"The mother's heart is the child's playground." i have one story to tell  to me again and maybe again, i caught myself dreaming the boundary between the energetic darkness and the travelling light. this vital story  when the mornings were pure the nights full of unknown beings, the rib cage the only space i knew rippled by the vital waves, by dread, incomprehensible vibrations, the beat of my heart unprotected, the horizon had not yet been invented, nor the sisterhood and brotherhood.  pain was an incessant falling into the void, the desire infinite, my body shattered into vital fragments, a misattuned orchestra of delight and terror (body-mind-reality continuum forever broken). at the crossroad of deadness and aliveness i was stamped with fire and water, i was an imaginary being without limits. even now i use a strange language and visions of the infinite haunt me, i taste life when i confuse myself with you and her and him and them, so that death is not incomprehensible. i was once a pool of vibrant nothingness, this terrible pain of life crushing itself inside the flesh, of reality and imagination, longing and despair annihilating each other. my body carries patiently the invisible tattoos of vibrant scars, she waits for me to learn how to love the simplicity and the serene fullness of life. all i need is more words, new vessels for the infinite desire, more "i" in this i from the imperfect, impermanent and incomplete.
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Apr 11, 2023
Apr 11, 2023 at 1:56 PM UTC
a vital story
in the twinkle of an eye you can revivify me
0
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 11:10 AM UTC
you
Life is like the air; Always changing, always moving, We breathe it in with ever-gasping lungs It sustains us, Keeps us moving, keeps us going Keeps us changing. It flows around us, through us In us. ... I love the storm. It fills the sky with power Becomes a masterpiece of air; The wind ripping through the trees, Swirling skittering leaves left scattered  To dance on wet grey pavement  The unassuming air reigns supreme  Lord of the elements, Firey and wild
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Nov 10, 2021
Nov 10, 2021 at 3:05 AM UTC
Storm
The sensation of one's vitality is the doorway to a deeper understanding of exquisite inner joys and the tranquility of being.
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Aug 3, 2020
Aug 3, 2020 at 3:41 AM UTC
Just be...
A scent that makes me cry Takes me back to newly time I smelled it today I don’t know how Can I bottle it please And use it when I need To feel young again And free from age I search for it in my head The merchants helped Discontinued they said How can it be ... I needed it for me
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Feb 29, 2020
Feb 29, 2020 at 12:00 PM UTC
We don’t make that anymore
Wake up fresh - start new today Each morning a new beginning I push aside my past mistakes For this day I choose winning Disregard my faulty thoughts Today I think the higher way I see my clear priorities And act on them without delay New beginnings give to me Vitality and strength of mind And with my fresh start every day I live my life from my design
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Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 11:14 AM UTC
New Beginnings (Prosperity Poem 50)
Oddities of flesh Pale and sickly Necrotic, peeling off Craving death so near But if treated with care, It will glow like fire Radiant, vibrant And it will be so Impossibly beautiful Full of vitality Powerful But, it must be Treated with care
0
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Strange Flesh