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"descension" poems
What on Earth took you? Do we dare land? A lark of descension. An aborted beginning. Moon trills. Captain is dead at the controls. Mother gives birth in the airlock. Trouble in the passageways. A struggle to name it. A drink before eclipse. All that's wrong with the world sounds like harmonium in the (wishing) well. First flight over Hölderlin's Archipelago, creating new and stranger versions in the sandclouds. So this is Tharsis Rise? Life without a trace. Non-terrestrial Martian field. Halcyon flowering seas. A rock with no trees, no urban hopes. Yet, the whole universe inside wants to be touched. I love you in zero gravity, pushing tender buttons. *** as solution. Moon trills. A kiss of atmosphere. This alien womb. Those android embargoes. Our children are born echoes of astronauts. Lunar schedules their first words. There's a lightspeed sensibility to this type of marriage and parenting: no leaving the hub, no exit procedure. The Sol they sing is a harm hymn, moon trills, subject to the ladder and the weight of breath this outside Earth. But I love you in the veil of a twilight moon. We're monuments burned into moments. Moments without a beyond.
0
Jul 2, 2022
Jul 2, 2022 at 6:36 PM UTC
Permission to Land (Moon Trills)
Boundaries converge subduction, descension divergent margins widen convective from the core red hot and sticky hardening to obsidian succumb to subterranean pull an infinitesimal slide below dense and pressured soil the slow parting seam a rift becomes a chasm consuming solid ground
0
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC
Tectonic
curling up into all sweet confusions that trickle down from your touch, we become the sky, as birds fall from above. i lose a tactician's leverage throughout this fog; a descension if you were the moon, an aberrance, if you were a single leaf, dripping from this tree coiling up to the lights hung on netted strings set under the darkness of the sky, where-ever you have been. where-ever you are. so, do the stars still shine solely for you, the nights you most need them? perhaps i have gone blind, just when i need to see you, more now than ever. perhaps i've just been sleeping a little too long, inside this cave. does the sky still divide the sea? but, undoing the buttons on your grip, you build declensions on foundations of realisation: with full authorship of your motions, you know you could go anywhere, love. you now know away from i is any road, every treadmark save this single one. and mine is hardly treacherous, but you'll still only find me in mountaintops, so i could barely blame you if the path gets too narrow, or too long-wound. do the clouds still turn images in full colour, late afternoon, to remind you of shapes i imitate in all fractured disappearances? i've seen retreat from so many sides now, the addition of yours could hardly make a dent. not that i would not lament a loss like you, more than anything. yet, don't worry, never worry, i can still stay in motion. still, if you see fit to collect all broken pieces of me, and build up this cottage, or nest, you can keep your heart here long as you like, darling.
0
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
a speechwriter's woes.
curling up into all sweet confusions that trickle down from your touch, we become the sky, as birds fall from above. i lose a tactician's leverage throughout this fog; a descension if you were the moon, an aberrance, if you were a single leaf, dripping from this tree coiling up to the lights hung on netted strings set under the darkness of the sky, where-ever you have been. where-ever you are. so, do the stars still shine solely for you, the nights you most need them? perhaps i have gone blind, just when i need to see you, more now than ever. perhaps i've just been sleeping a little too long, inside this cave. does the sky still divide the sea? but, undoing the buttons on your grip, you build declensions on foundations of realisation: with full authorship of your motions, you know you could go anywhere, love. you now know away from i is any road, every treadmark save this single one. and mine is hardly treacherous, but you'll still only find me in mountaintops, so i could barely blame you if the path gets too narrow, or too long-wound. do the clouds still turn images in full colour, late afternoon, to remind you of shapes i imitate in all fractured disappearances? i've seen retreat from so many sides now, the addition of yours could hardly make a dent. not that i would not lament a loss like you, more than anything. yet, don't worry, never worry, i can still stay in motion. still, if you see fit to collect all broken pieces of me, and build up this cottage, or nest, you can keep your heart here long as you like, darling.
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58
Orange orange everywhere Orange orange in the air I’m given an orange despair By a man with orange hair I see through his orange glare To see nothing really there A man became president Promising to evict residents His stupidity self evident When he says nothing relevant About all the topical elements He just talks for the hell of it He’s unfit to lead Because he’s equipped with greed And an unwillingness to read Gaining success from his family tree He lives the American dream By making others scream To indulge his team And his bigotry All it took for his courtship Was a culture of celebrity worship And idiots buying his horseshit Of acting remorseless The gullible are impressed With how well he is dressed So they think he’s the best Putting him in a wing that is west Because he has a lot of money But without any capability You better start running Money let’s him **** willingly He takes advantage of the stupid and racist By pointing at people with brown faces Saying they’re here to replace us Like they’re working for Asus And not mowing his lawn He said they will **** us To manipulate his pawns He’s a megalomaniac Who thinks he’s a brainiac But it’s a brain he lacks To understand the impact Of his negative attacks Still he thinks he’s a genius Which justifies his meanness So his cruelty is seamless While he claims to redeem us This is our most vulnerable hour With a president compromised by foreign powers Building ivory towers By turning minorities sour There’s a litany of reasons Why he calls them heathens But it all revolves around freedoms Being stripped from those who need them His constituents have their heads in the sand So they blindly give in to his demands Going after whoever he’s ****** In the name of this land Other kinds are banned You can tell the bad guys have won When they start separating mothers from sons At the end of a gun So there’s nowhere to run Away from the oppression Of our downward descension As he does nothing to lessen The root of our depression His concentration camps Give a **** slant To his lofty plans Until no one can stand Without a weapon Because of his deception Which was his intention To win the election He promised detention Of the boogeyman mentioned The red, white and blue Adopts an orange hue When the foreign lose From the fascist bruise Of an orange noose
0
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC
Orange
Orange orange everywhere Orange orange in the air I’m given an orange despair By a man with orange hair I see through his orange glare To see nothing really there A man became president Promising to evict residents His stupidity self evident When he says nothing relevant About all the topical elements He just talks for the hell of it He’s unfit to lead Because he’s equipped with greed And an unwillingness to read Gaining success from his family tree He lives the American dream By making others scream To indulge his team And his bigotry All it took for his courtship Was a culture of celebrity worship And idiots buying his horseshit Of acting remorseless The gullible are impressed With how well he is dressed So they think he’s the best Putting him in a wing that is west Because he has a lot of money But without any capability You better start running Money let’s him **** willingly He takes advantage of the stupid and racist By pointing at people with brown faces Saying they’re here to replace us Like they’re working for Asus And not mowing his lawn He said they will **** us To manipulate his pawns He’s a megalomaniac Who thinks he’s a brainiac But it’s a brain he lacks To understand the impact Of his negative attacks Still he thinks he’s a genius Which justifies his meanness So his cruelty is seamless While he claims to redeem us This is our most vulnerable hour With a president compromised by foreign powers Building ivory towers By turning minorities sour There’s a litany of reasons Why he calls them heathens But it all revolves around freedoms Being stripped from those who need them His constituents have their heads in the sand So they blindly give in to his demands Going after whoever he’s ****** In the name of this land Other kinds are banned You can tell the bad guys have won When they start separating mothers from sons At the end of a gun So there’s nowhere to run Away from the oppression Of our downward descension As he does nothing to lessen The root of our depression His concentration camps Give a **** slant To his lofty plans Until no one can stand Without a weapon Because of his deception Which was his intention To win the election He promised detention Of the boogeyman mentioned The red, white and blue Adopts an orange hue When the foreign lose From the fascist bruise Of an orange noose
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84
Wallowed in gray Discovered by gloom Resurrected Drowned by monsoon
0
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 1:34 AM UTC
Descension (Part II)
you were the blue ocean and i was the yellow sun i didn't know what a sunset looked like— to me, it looked nothing more than my descension into ruin it was nothing more than my inevitable undoing but as i sank down, you enveloped me into your warmth i found myself less afraid, i saw it as a different kind of undoing; a serene death as i lose all life, you promised to hold me safe through the night until i can rise again at dawn, until i inevitably come back to you everyone looks on, in awe of the sunset, my aftermath, seeing beauty in my death, as i come home into your warmth
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Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 5:20 PM UTC
Serendipity
Where were we when you quit the sound? Caught in distance while you hung around Encased inside of our own menial pursuit Flaunting desperation as a constant survival As you battled death in your combat boots There is no glory with fate as your rival What were you seeing in your distorted mind? As you ate your last words and ecstaticly dined At the chemical festival of illusions' absorbtion How far did your gaze stroll onto the other side? did you meet with an end or the start of damnation? In which lonely drawer do your dreams now reside? Where have the remnants of life made their grave? Are they in the lingering regret that you've paved? Through each flash of your face and casket sight The delusional rebirth of your presence revealing; Fragments of ended realities giving spark to night Burning sigils into visions of a broken feeling Flame lit sketches etched across a charred eulogy Only a name remains lying in the wake of a memory Pieces scattered amongst an unfitting resting place Conflicting beauties molding a divine contrast A devil laid to rest in the midst of holy space One shade of diversity on a bland earthly cast Echoes of descension from this dimming black sky Adorning each reflection with your hollow eyes Complexions left searching for an answer to hold As to how lifes' vigor can so swiftly fall to decay And,The aging of dignity resembling every tale told Seems to shine a reality check on this tragic play A nulling backdrop for this cemetary playground Where the kings and queens become tediously crowned With a sickly ailment that reaks of dalipidation The stench of the end atop an eternal retrospect Glaring back with the most sincere of validations That the fallen live on as our recollections resurect
0
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:41 PM UTC
Cadaverous Animus
Where were we when you quit the sound? Caught in distance while you hung around Encased inside of our own menial pursuit Flaunting desperation as a constant survival As you battled death in your combat boots There is no glory with fate as your rival What were you seeing in your distorted mind? As you ate your last words and ecstaticly dined At the chemical festival of illusions' absorbtion How far did your gaze stroll onto the other side? did you meet with an end or the start of damnation? In which lonely drawer do your dreams now reside? Where have the remnants of life made their grave? Are they in the lingering regret that you've paved? Through each flash of your face and casket sight The delusional rebirth of your presence revealing; Fragments of ended realities giving spark to night Burning sigils into visions of a broken feeling Flame lit sketches etched across a charred eulogy Only a name remains lying in the wake of a memory Pieces scattered amongst an unfitting resting place Conflicting beauties molding a divine contrast A devil laid to rest in the midst of holy space One shade of diversity on a bland earthly cast Echoes of descension from this dimming black sky Adorning each reflection with your hollow eyes Complexions left searching for an answer to hold As to how lifes' vigor can so swiftly fall to decay And,The aging of dignity resembling every tale told Seems to shine a reality check on this tragic play A nulling backdrop for this cemetary playground Where the kings and queens become tediously crowned With a sickly ailment that reaks of dalipidation The stench of the end atop an eternal retrospect Glaring back with the most sincere of validations That the fallen live on as our recollections resurect
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36
In the sea of aged descension, debauchery of tortoises and sea horses, afloat bottoms up. With fleeting corals, wilted they wane, a familiar millet stops by. Seeping ashes I breathe in, treacherous flames I shan’t squelch, left nothing but void to differ the abyss from an unfathomable surface. Tidal deluge washes away. Deprive me of thy momentum, for I no longer swim.
0
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
Hourglass of Souls
One must suffer for beauty But not in this self-destructive fashion Maybe after we put ourselves out there They'll worship at the pedestal Some skewed mindset of what glamour highlights Re-invent yourself Not innovate another's identity We're just templates left to be traced by another Who wants to be the photocopied poster child? She just wants out You can't blame her for exploiting herself This was after the sext messages Sent to his phone forwarded to all his friends sent to all their friends inevitably the internet Girl's got a sickness about her She wants to go viral Starving for attention Starving herself for perfection Caught somewhere between ascension of ego and descension of the soul She's lost like a lighter in a smoke circle Won't somebody spark the way?
0
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 12:57 AM UTC
Girl's Got A Sickness About Her
I feel safest wrapped in Darkness Solitary, Voluntarily. Shut my eyes and experience the     Colors,        Under covers, Fast asleep. (I never asked you to be next to me. I never told you that I couldn't feel.)        And I feel strangest In the daylight In the sunshine or the shade I am    Opened like a book For leafing through. My ink melts and leaks Off pages Until Descension,   Depths of ages Passed and to come.    Again I am one. (I never asked you to Let me in) Cloak of blackness Masks malpractice Sets me free. Solidity,    Shattered as the sun Beats me awake and I am       Shaken,       Naked, Young, Dumb, Prepared to Fake it Let me be.
0
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC
Pillar
We are sorry but the physical(campus) flat earth school is closed on account it was pushed over the edge of the Earth by 5 sasquatch(bigfeets, squatches, skunk apes), a wooly mammoth, and Mothman. We asked superman for help but he was in physics class on another planet. Just read this and we will send your PHD. Congrats! fill my feet with air put me on a square use our soles for patches i think we make great matches how's a compass work? what's a compass for? what's another dimension? what's behind this door? get me off this plain toxify my brain use our bones as easels paint pictures of the weasels how's a paintbrush work? what's a canvas for? what is inner descension? who's inside that door? --------------------------------- des·cen·sion /dəˈsenSH(ə)n/ noun 1. an act of moving downward, dropping, or falling. "a smooth descension back down" 2. a flock of woodpeckers.
0
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 7:20 PM UTC
Get Your PHD in Minutes on Campus - Flat Earth School - FREE enrollment - Takes just 5 minutes(for full course)
im the ******* half-breed ****** go ahead and pull the trigger you cant take my standing vigor tell me that im just a ****** stop talking and dig another moat now tell me, do you need another ******* scapegoat? yours is big but mine is bigger if im the grave then you're the digger so if in this life you're the rigger then why am i the ******* ****** scarred markings assailants i cant see i took a look up at the sky and then it hit me con descension ripped us off little girl has blown her top herbicide on life's corn crop i can hear the brain cells pop life looks good before the drop wade and wander through the slop **** yourself to make it stop quiet, or i'll call the cops
0
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
ostrich-sized
She falls in love with rejection The lack of attention She may need an intervention But it cant be prevented The mere mention Of self descension Wraps her mind in a new dimension She falls for degradation And cant help her fascination She is stuck in a contravention Which leads to sleep deprivation He is not easy to fool She thinks in admiration She is in love with rejection and his never ending reprehension
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Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
in love with rejection
Hard Topics more or less Essential? To speak your mind raise your voice Your choice Life fundamentals which are potentially not fun to mention or list them in a Corrupt System That is Systematically Problematic Absurd to merge these choice words with opposing verbs To please the Masses Seeing how The Watchers watch and observe from an Orbital distance For they have their Watchmen and henchmen but not to be confused with Jehovah's true or 2 witness For the rings of Saturn have dangerous curves These here I recognize as anti-Christ like or anti-Christian affiliated or anything remotely anti-Christ or anti- Christian Like a one world Religion I'm talking NWO false prophetic enlisted Tricksters mixed in with vicious Political figures No figment of my imagination hearsay or a conspiracy with a twist I'm just down for exposing Who's Who Call me a Conspiracist with a list No.. better yet I'm more like a Realist with a real list And no I'm not Heaven sent or Hell bent on the descension of your opinions Because I have my own Ascension to ascend to With other worldly entities from other Dimensions against me Who hate me for being Christ affiliated and Christ opinionated With a whole unholy Nation sanctioned to alienate me with more hatred? Big Mistake For I'll just debate it as being Under-estimated And hold true to the Essentials of Life fundamentals Unabated
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Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 2:25 PM UTC
Hard Topics more or less Essential?
Rise, rise, out of the caverns of darkness, through lives, unfolds your immortal journey Collapsed field         Vast to small        particular                    blabberings chosen timeline         growing ego        wonder, wonder        to structure through vales sunny at times, but through the vaults of obscurity often Scribblings                 crowd of faces     men, trees,                 flowers to consonants             to family              birds and beats         butterflies grounded in the light ancient,whose descension is all the souls that set out Autumn leaves          Seasons                      tastes, smells         one of a kind rainbow joy                of sun and snow      sound of music      for all things before the dawn of time, branching out into segmented existences, in a quest for Self. regimen          run, roll,               infant bondings           slow march of and play        skip and hop          friendships                 the little man
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Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 6:32 PM UTC
The father of man | The Hermit
does she recede into her lair of solitude and silence, or does she slip away shadowless to the soft secret of her dark cove? or, rather, does she sink into a sweeter place, a heavier place, lifted high with the smell of     deep oleander and tall curtains of swaying stalks?     for down and down she goes,       the descension into madness made so easy.         down and down and down until she is           all that place and not at all that place.       and so until her descension halts,     down and down and down she'll go.
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
alice
The homily that turned into slobbering, unequaled any ordinary drool. Evenly balance my center of gravity. Breathe in, breathe out. Lung sacs are losing elasticity. Tighten descension through to  your love. Air is thick surrounding what is held inside a chalice.   Blood mist pillows. Body crimson flush. An amity offered presently, so shortly gives a second's continuance. My will to hold your crux, so I may adore, eat of, drink of, understand. Our sacrament has not yet recognition in eyes of high on holy. Still, I promise to sit with you, sopping all this be all and end all, so I may call your meat, bone, and marrow, solely mine. As amorousness is the weakness I worship, you are my sin.
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Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
Appropriating
Walls close in Choices walk out Fear takes the win Overflowing doubt Company nonexistent Friends only dreams Darkness persistant Nothing what it seems Death looks divine Absolutely dashing Go for a ride No fear of crashing No more words No more laughing Nothing but shards Survive the passing
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May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
The Descension
# *Sometimes, the pressure is so bad..        on the spiritual-shift, that it feels as though I am right on the edge,          about to crumble-- as if all  of Hell is going to pull my soul and spirit          down  in to  it an "un-willing" descension;   dragged down, in full ****** form                     .   .   . There is a death down there,         a life-swallowing horror-- My destruction, waits for me there   There are poor, broken-ones there unfairly        held against their will,  there. I shudder as I think of the doom-- the retribution that awaits me for anything..   for everything   I have done   that has dinged his all holiness,   the one on the throne here-- the deceptive-one,   the hidden agenda,   acquiesced..      the  f oo ler  of us all..                                   (the ****** but, then  I smile to myself; .. and then,    I can't stop smiling.* #
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Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 9:34 PM UTC
**** it, lets do this--..
The verge of a depression Feels like an economic recession Its the ascension Before the descension A slow mental digression And my therapist says: "While we're in session, Do you have a confession?" And I say, "No, It can't be depression." 05/17/2023
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May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 5:13 AM UTC
Almost Depression
We know because we saw a title. But you can’t write if you’re dead. Your boring melodramatic recital, Is better left unsaid. It may sound harsh to bare, But honestly, look at what you wrote, And explain to me why anyone would care, To read something so trite, and I quote: “...confession,” “...pain,” “...depression,” “...rain.” These cliché nouns, That every “injured” poet seems to wear for attention. Don’t forget to take “drown!” On your path to descension. Where the people without regard, Follow the herd of the uninformed, They’ll take their poems up under their arm, And expect to be warmed, Showered by the masses, Their beliefs confirmed. While I’ll hope this passes, And that this “art” is termed. But I fear it’ll never stop, If poetry like yours, Continues to enter my inbox. Like a bag of **** on my doorstep. The doorbell’s been rung, And god ****** I’m answering, Screaming at the top of my lungs, That this pandering, Needs to stop.
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Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
I wrote a response
It was written in stone With celestial chisel That they walk the path of sin Reined by the rings of Hell-- Much like a planet Waltzing in captivity. What could they turn to Beyond the drift of revelation Trickling through the wake of Time. And I, the so-called progeny Of such cursed matrimony, Have myriad of times Rebelled against unwanted imprisonment, Have resorted to many uncanny schemes To tear down the bars of legacy Alas, i have come To a stupefying standstill Stood and swallowed The demons of my waywardness Oh, how those demons kept me alive At every destructive yet ecstatic turn. How to separate God and Devil Impossible! The promise of descension looms In every game of darkness The Light above blooms Every hue of divine harness. In mystifying ocean of thoughts Which way to walk, to run Humanity seems the only savior. A forbidden fruit Unleashed the human race The fable of original sin.
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Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
Adam and Eve
I had fallen between a waking state And a life I believe I entirely imagined. I imagined you, because at the time It was everything I thought I had needed. If only I could have one more thing                                    If only I could run and                                    touch you                                    taste you                                    scream everything I thought you were. My thoughts were a continuous sea of moonlight, A familiar, nostalgic ambiance I wrote about you beneath so long ago. When I believed moths were faeries, When the fireflies died And the eclipse kept me awake in the dissonance of night When my heart felt giddy, I thought-- then, now, I had finally held a shallow coal That burned deeply, vehemently I wanted to swallow it and feel it scorch my insides. Finally, I had become delirious For all of the right reasons. At that point I was simply looking For an excuse to slip quietly past reach. I would rise and wander in the early hours Of morning, and would blame it On you When it was merely my own soul Screeching, bleeding Clawing at the sad, impermanent baggage of flesh Popping my seams undone over every pore, Unstitching my sanity Wanting so viscerally to be let out, escape-- Freedom…. Is what I wanted. I don’t think I ever truly wanted you. A lust overcoming Was my body's way of rejecting humanity's Trivial circumnavigation of romance. Laying on the celestial floorboards Watching my whirlpool of scars                                        And all of the screaming… I kept hearing it. The incarceration of my dreams, The inferno of desire I wanted to burn forever in, Sat so prettily upon my heart I never dared move it.
0
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 5:52 PM UTC
Descension
I had fallen between a waking state And a life I believe I entirely imagined. I imagined you, because at the time It was everything I thought I had needed. If only I could have one more thing                                    If only I could run and                                    touch you                                    taste you                                    scream everything I thought you were. My thoughts were a continuous sea of moonlight, A familiar, nostalgic ambiance I wrote about you beneath so long ago. When I believed moths were faeries, When the fireflies died And the eclipse kept me awake in the dissonance of night When my heart felt giddy, I thought-- then, now, I had finally held a shallow coal That burned deeply, vehemently I wanted to swallow it and feel it scorch my insides. Finally, I had become delirious For all of the right reasons. At that point I was simply looking For an excuse to slip quietly past reach. I would rise and wander in the early hours Of morning, and would blame it On you When it was merely my own soul Screeching, bleeding Clawing at the sad, impermanent baggage of flesh Popping my seams undone over every pore, Unstitching my sanity Wanting so viscerally to be let out, escape-- Freedom…. Is what I wanted. I don’t think I ever truly wanted you. A lust overcoming Was my body's way of rejecting humanity's Trivial circumnavigation of romance. Laying on the celestial floorboards Watching my whirlpool of scars                                        And all of the screaming… I kept hearing it. The incarceration of my dreams, The inferno of desire I wanted to burn forever in, Sat so prettily upon my heart I never dared move it.
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52
The rustling leaves of golden hue, tell the story of Autumn's view; They glimmer and glow like the stars, which shine in the indigo sky afar. And when they fall they tell the truth, of Autumnal descension upon our roof; Setting the table for cold and frosty air, that fills our lungs and keeps us aware. Our hearts rely on Autumn's pleasures, to assure us all of the Lord's holy treasures; And when the breezes blow hard and fast, we realize Summertime could never last. With memories clear of September smiles, watching sapphire rain that flows for miles; And when misty October opens its door, the luxurious sites of scarlet endure !
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Sep 26, 2021
Sep 26, 2021 at 2:50 PM UTC
Leaves of Gold