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stillhuman Jul 25
Crimson clouds cloud my vision
I see red all over
My reflection's blurry in the mirror
and its eyes look for cover
They're ashamed of what they see
as I dream of redemption
of wrongs rectified and apologies made
of certainty in my being
but spiders keep on crawling
in the shadows they build webs
of guilt and of me, missing you
while the sun is out
and the flowers sing with their colours
It is bright
so bright it hurts my dark eyes
they're not used to this light
of your hand touching petals
in a  different kind of summer
stillhuman Apr 25
It's poisonous claws
scratching up from the inside
of my chest, they open
a path of lurid squalor
festering the internal wounds
with rotting meat
that spreads from within
to the skin that crawls
and dies, cell by cell
into the empty stale air
surrounding our conversation

The words float
from one breath to another
without ever really landing
to a precise spot
of connection
They just mimic meanings
and thoughtfulness
when they are void of any feelings

There is no spark of life
no life itself
denied to us
by the putrid scent
we ignore the existence of
No knowledge of pain
or reality
just a dull sense
of immortality
as we still
like the dust suspended
motion our lips without sense
nor sense of self
Corroding second by second
by second 'til we
become dust ourselves
"Natura Morta" is the artistic genre of painting still life
It resembles us so much at times
stillhuman Mar 29
A search of Justice
in righteous anger
in the simple existence
of the unbecoming

Death strips us of
our quirks
our thoughts
our selves
Even as we breathe
still, undead

It was polite
unbearably so
to give and take
your breathe from you

It turned
body into corpse
grief from perseverance
stillness from movement
Memory from reality

I still hear you
but you're fading
Though your essence
will stay intact
No more body
nor memory
It still lives
in us
Your memory tastes bitter, which I never wanted
I wanted it to stay warm
stillhuman Feb 24
Spiders are crawling
on every flower
and they have feet
caked in gun powder
They invade the blooms
of roses in the winter
The world is shadowed in doom
and my fingers bleed with splinters
from the homes of freedom
crashing down to rot
but this is the hope of a people
that grow like moss
on fallen trees
they stand like those flowers
and march like bees
They are the bloom of freedom
in the dark ages of evil
These are my thoughts on the Ukrainian situation. I stand with you and applaud your strenght and resilience. Let's not forget the reason diplomacy and democracy exist.
stillhuman Jan 31
I wish I were a god
so that i could let you drink
the milky way
and swim through galaxies
and sleep on stars
and ride on comets
to visit all planets
and marvel at all the wonders
i created for You
"There's a pain, it does ripple through my frame, makes me lame"
stillhuman Jan 17
Remember that summer
when it was dry and heavy
but in the evening
the breeze would gently
sway the smoke
of your cigarette in my hand
when you were trying
to teach me how not to choke

And I remember coughing
and laughing it off with you,
how smoke had always
been around me
but my lungs were funny
'bout this direct approach

And we talked 'bout everything
from heartbreak, to lovers, to family
And I truly felt wonder
at the simplicity of those moments
and how much they meant to me

So much I look back to them now
when it's winter and I'm alone
missing your warmth, your voice
and itching for a smoke
everything matters
stillhuman Dec 2021
My brain is soaked
in lukewarm squalor
stagnant it stays
the same darkened
soiled rotten pictures
and I wade
through murky water
of memories
and I
feel at home
Yet I survive in this state of mind
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