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Iska Dec 2018
Starring at the world
through a fractured freeze frame
Splintering my skin as I draw closer clawing to the faded paint only to end up on the other side
To a world as bland and gray as it was on the other side.
Iska Nov 2018
Ragged breaths
Dilated eyes
The sweet truth
The hazy lie
Breathy laughter
Loving the high
Sensual embrace
As I chase
After you
Addicted
through and through
Iska Nov 2018
patchwork poetry
from a broken soul
ageless words
stitched together
take their toll
as we twist them
to fit the role
I was told all I do is rewrite what has already been written.
With no creative twist or flair
Just wasting time
With empty air
Iska Nov 2018
I am not pretty
nor happy
nor brave
my world is a world of mist and rain
you are beautiful
your smile is sunshine given life
as you take all blows in stride.
don"t you see?
you and I,
we are not the same.
your provide an umbrella
and I provide the rain
and the winds will batter you
and force your umbrella to crumple
with holes in the fabric
and no shelter from my storm
and you will realize
that rain no longer smells so sweet
when choking on the storm
so you will retreat

and leave me to rage alone...
  Nov 2018 Iska
Joy
Spiraling
                down
                          a pit
                                  of anxiety.

                     When suddenly


                          A

                          f

    ­                      r

                          e

           ­               e

                          f

                  ­        a

                          l

                         ­ l

                    headfirst
                    short
                    sharp
            ­        burst.

                          And then

P     r     o     c     r   a    s    tination
spilled         un   e   ve       nly

           on a tiled bathroom floor.
Iska Oct 2018
When I was younger I used to think
that when a falling star crashes into the earth,
it shattered into stardust
and from there grows a forest.
Iska Oct 2018
genius comes in fragments
poetry comes in slivers of sentences
open to all
yet mastered by none
merely mortals weaving a web
a web of words
of truths and lies
of things made plain
and things we hide
and as we navigate this artful web
we realize just how much we are out of our depth
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