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Truth be told, I was skeptical.
Was this worth the cowry shell equivalent?
My mind was a dry skin covered foot caught on a fleece blanket.
My tongue, lined with the taste of that earthy bile.
Distant isles between Alaska and Ayahuasca,
but it all comes rushing back. Jungle visions.
-
I
        take
                    ten
               ­              sickly      
                                          steps
                ­                                     toward
                                                          ­         the
                                                             ­              teetering  
                                                     ­                                      ethereal
                                                        ­                                                  edge.
-
She's once again lined with that finespun glow.
I'm once again letting the little things go.
She's letting me know for the very first time.
I'm struggling to find words for the very last rhyme.
-
                                        Trudging
       ­     tip-toed
through
                                           ­                       the
                  nonlinear
      narr­ative;
                                       elegantly
                                                       ­     elephantine.
-
Lick your wounds, traveler.
Set your eyes to the pale star's gleam.
Dogma unraveller
with an elementary scheme.
We are nature's instruments.
We are watchers in the night.
Softened slightly by the dissonance
of the dearly departed Wight.
-
He's slipping in and out.
Orbium linguam avium.
Labra lege: hic sunt dracones.
Let us dine on cremated elves.
-
     m sw ll   w  ng sw rds   nd st rs.
R zn hdzooldrmt hdliwh zmw hgzih.
I a         a  o   i          o      a         a  .
I am swallowing swords and stars.
-
.ecnatsbus em evig dna eniltuo ym nekraD
.savnac eruza siht otno seye s'ti tsac dluow nuS eht hsiw I
?suhpysiS fo redluob eht I mA
.noitcerid gnorw eht ni gnilbmut no peek I
-
We're sailing on the calmest of waters,
but there is not a drop to drink.
Bad news for the boy who only rejects omens.
I will not hang a dead bird around my neck.
Retrace the lace and my hazy days of habit,
then let me know your honest opinion.
Exhibit an execution by exsiccation of the most exuberant exiles.
Or am I the only one who's thirsty?
-
                                                      ­                      Who here is the ghost?
I know **** well it's not me.
                                                             ­                            Who said that?
I know I did.
                                                            ­                                        Didn't I?
Couldn't be.                                                              ­            
                                                    ­                                                    Am I?No.                                  
                         ­           Hopper, this isn't sinking in.
I am not a liar.
-
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01101111011­100100110011101100001011011100110100101100011

011011010110000101­1000110110100001101001011011100110010101110011

-
I was supposed to be writing something down.
Some kind of secret; some kind of rune.
Can you help me find our primal core?
Your carnal truths are mine to keep.
Weren't you supposed to be going somewhere?
The flea burrow, no, The Doubling House.
For in those halls of mold and paper walls
your memories were uneagerly forged.
It's time to shed your summer skin
and begin to eat with your hands.
devante moore Mar 2016
gnorw ti ta gnikool ruoy esuaceb s'ti esnes ekam t'nod sgniht nehw semitemoS
The Dybbuk Sep 2018
Was it a mistake?
Or rather, what kind? Was it,
Carelessness or recklessness,
That brought you to hit send.
It's like every time I start to think everything is going to be okay,
You come back and knock that down.
In person, or in my texts, or in my memories, or thoughts or this ******* stupid website where we confess the ****** things in our souls.
If you want to talk, I will.
But if you have said all you have to say to me,
If you don't want to be the best friend I once had,
Then do me a favor, and lose my number.
Because I can't keep being knocked down.
I can't keep lying in bed and holding the stupid clown I was raised with close and cry while it stares back at me without any ******* eyes and then be expected to wake up in the morning and go to the school where every ******* hallway reminds me of one of the times I made you smile.
I can't keep being spied on by my former friends, by the security guards, by my brother and by that ******* staircase.
I can't keep living in this ****** world like nothing is wrong. Because it all is.
It's all just wrong, worng, wnorg, gnorw, ngrwo.
Krysta May 2018
I wanted numb
I wanted to be a certain thing
I wanted to release myself to the wave of the world
I wanted to be taken away and washed on shore

But I don't want to feel nothing
I can that feel with the rawest sting
The burn of life pulses through my bones and prickles at my skin

You can pour water on me to put me out,
I will sizzle and smoke and rise higher and more fiercely
Laughing as I look you in the eye.

I used to think with my eyes downcast even when closed.
Behind a wall, shielding me,
protecting me from having to follow my dreams

Of the boredom that comes with passionately saying, ‘this is what I love!’
Because, how tedious is it to commit to your dreams?
How boring to practice and practice and practice and practice.

Just saying the word,  practice feels like practice for something.
Practice, Practice, Practice
Practice..

It’s uncomfortable
It is off-putting
Too many words, and the flow is all of.

It’s. Not. The. Right. Rhythm.
or.the.right.feel,
esmegnsiht osklo gnorw.

So, I’d rather go numbly through life
biding my life by
till someone does it for me?

No one is going to tell me who I am.
No one is going to know my thoughts,
or hear my voice,

Unless or until I open my mouth and tell them.
Every thought I think is a statement
So every move I make must matter.

My voice is my strength and my gift
It should be weird that people don’t know that about me.
I am not the timid voice with roaring inner thoughts kept to myself.

How can other people know me for how I know me
if I don’t tell them who I am.

So here it goes.
This is who I am.
This is what  I will fight for.

The discovery of self.
The belief in self.

The belief in my dreams.
The discovery of my dreams.
Ooops this one's long

— The End —