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Lux
Those who were marginalized by the braids and serpentine lights, devotions were made in San Juan allowing electromagnetic discharges from the imperceptible space-time of Vernarth's parapsychological quantum; alluding to clarities that achieved everything by having Patmia in the material and incorporeal from the start of the stained glass windows and archetypes by Transfer Quantum that burned the chins of hominids who believed to be immortal as if they were looking in this position for the direction between the eyebrows and the chin , for the Euclidean incidence crossing all the pools that are between quantum means of transfer of ions and cations. The oscillations of the sparkling field of consciousness of the containers were of ethical variables that became perpendicular to the space of draft or levitation of the designations that originated with accelerated electric charges on Patmos, developing albiceleste skylights over the harmonic equations as they elongated in proportions of quanta that They argued greater than those that circulated elliptically from Grikos to Skalá, and then to Profitis with assiduous progenitors of long-wave quanta. The magnificence of the halo became rectilinear up to the high altar that was atomized from the unskillful penumbra to reabsorb the inclinations of physical life in the Macedonians and the Achaemenides when they were trapped by the loss on the propagation of the Lux, which was imposed in hemicycles where they were they reclined to relax in the lux of rest of the path of the reasoning that made pederasty in the links with the minuscule obtuse lights, reeling from the clothing and its finite speed of what measures the ability to be undetermined in the margins of error of the antagonists when originating flow rates, greater in his dermis to regenerate towards any other that could be clothing of greater speed.

Thus was the scenario of dimensional magnitude between the powers that did not have contact, but their dimensionless energies on a surface that reached absorbent to the one that rectifies the concretive of the error that partially abused them. Their legacies would pass to a supplementary electromagnetic plane, separating their masses and retaking orientation from where they returned, where if the ideal of the final rational was refracted where everything would be vivid darkness. The obstacles classified them in the closure of the average height and the average surface, to then redirect to the maximum height and maximum surface propagating in irregularities of the Ego "Believing that they were never overcome in the diffuse perception of the metal mirror." The incident rays of the Lux would go to meet the multi-incident plane of the Mashiach, the wave angles were refracted throughout the sinuous law as radiosity passed over the greater mass that was normalized from the tangent that was projected 180 meters above the eyebrow. and Vernarth's chin, along with the recharged electromagnetic strengths of Alexander the Great's reactivation bezels, which at times seemed to levitate over the Lux's high frequencies and vary independently with its crowded functionalities, among scattered restraints that it presented to both weightless behind. from the decayed marble sawdust, separating from its phosphorescence that bounced between the rigging of solid surfaces and semi-solid ones, when realizing that the sea and the silica were confessed to the Pronoia of Delphi. Inducing Vernarth for the first time into a Pronoia versology on the Athena of Delphi, prompting them to separate from the world and it's holistic to divide into three portions of the dissociation of consciousness from the end of the Lux of Parapsychology, which had hosted them for centuries and centuries. . The Pronoia conspiracy systematized the reaction that would reunite them after this oracular parapsychology, making the adversaries believe that they were discrepancies of clinical parapsychology, equating warlike causes in the containment of Delphic neuroscience. From this quantification, the predominance of Vernarth's Lux de Pronoia was announced, linking peculiar segmentation of submit logical historicity in this work as a starting thesis, which speculates the same for those who have to make an analysis of historical dogmatic imperialism as a justification for mythological normality. The Lux thesis aimed to show that the dimensions of the mythology and the submitology, when exposed in physical quanta, made a tendency of irresolution in the abode of spiritual Tractatus reasoning and not in the instinctual one, which watches over recitals where history and its collective memory indicate outbursts of moderation. The role of the submithology  is to pretend that this normality is made close to the instruction after yours temporary for causes of your deep patrimonial, that makes them captives from the social complexity, with the disambiguation of certain criteria by maximizing the hidden truth of the ascending opposition forces that they have generated great conflagrations, intuition being the unreflective pseudo-reality with historical formalities that stumble into the terrified directionality of the myth that was to be reality. The tiny spaces of the verve left by the silent mechanics of the Persians became defensive when they saw their emissaries incoherently in the verticality of Allah when they saw that the confusing world with anxiety exaggerated predictions and failures invulnerability of a lineage that always had. been condemned to the desert.

Everything conspired with a Pronoia of siege, before the exegesis that sought purification and that was how they headed and misdirected their mistakes in the active train of the recess of their abstracted retreat, in a universe that also abandoned them after the subsequent train of Aurion waking them in their illusions with swords, and stealthy spears in dreams that specified safe rest. The ferocities of the proto-souls of assault carried away the translucent bodies of the Persians, and the Hellenes in acts of honor made such congenital paths of the understandable vocabulary that he did not speak. The prism was located in the cautious measure of its contractile dispersion with white separations of mantles, earth, and water scalded by dynamics that formed colorful activations with their withdrawal phenomena in the immaculate albino Lux that dissolved all of the facet optics that it made. Lux's great brain in the instant that the Thuellai airs transfigured the nuances of the Atros monastery, with objects that refused to be absorbed by the black hue, generating mechanical waves of equivalence in their identical interference that caused two opposing forces to distill the coherent differential that had to be overexposed in the category of historical Submitology. The two inverted waves separated, the Hellenes moaned and hiccupped for having to become identical when separating from their immaterial bodies, doing wonders that would house additional souls that would complement a transitory becoming towards the garden of the angels that provided them with identical beams of light, interfering in what animated the lights of pageantry, with the antithesis of interference where they resided in constancy knowing that they felt possessed of benefits of the eternal length of existence, but with pressures of mutable in some involuntary constancy and amplitude of having parallel directions with Saint John the Apostle and the Siblis. The phenomenon of polarization of both empires was denatured in a transverse way in all the electric fields after this feat, inciting unique fields of the pure and selective ascending ecosystem, which generated polaroid substances at the angle of ninety degrees above the browbones and chin of Vernarth, to approach the Pronoia of concatenation with Alexander the Great refracting unscathed hyper-vital and transcendent faces of infinity. Like any other phenomenon, the Lux crossed both bodies like two Xiphos swords that processed the electromagnetic valve, by iridium that converted with all the coarse Lux that crossed the succumbed immateriality and stopped the shaft and the nail that hang in the typology of electromagnetic radiation from the Hellenic world between them, making an ominous redemptive fire that was regimented to leave them both in the middle of a farm where there were farmyard animals, stockpiled pastures and a house that absorbed them as parents who would love them as beings of Lux. Thus, this primary parapsychological quantum network penetrated the level of the archangels that made them be together in planes of manumission, and that does not admit bi-quantum personality or bi-parapsychology that can cancel out the portent of the helmets and the lineage that does not dazzle if they are not made of iron.

The life of the other world began to be encompassed in all the Subtraigus beings that would correspond to the astral plane that was confirmed after the Kalidona Romantics deduced the Unicorn Uilef or Uilef Monókeros after Pronoia. Kalidona being an uninhabited island and the Uilef sleeps in between copulating with Spinalonga and Kolokythas along with other smaller islets, plus two hundred that will make up six islands of the twenty-six tetragram of Alef. Here Drestnia went with her consort of Etréstles from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi to find fateful encounters of Pantheism based on the majestic copulation of beauty, among twenty-six numbers that prevailed in virtuosos who took refuge in Kalydon or Kalidona, preparing for their rampage with grafted grotesque derived bodies of the Falangist Hellenes who were arranged of their musculature, so that they directed the finesse of the civility of Hesiod, Terpando, Archiloco, Baquílides, tragic like Etréstles, Aeschylus Sophocles, Euripides and comedian like Aristophanes.
Lux
Michael Hoffman Aug 2012
I would rather be hysterical than vulnerable
to what most people call love.  
I would rather couple with strange women
on an Amsterdam getaway
than let one more man
try to own me.

I prefer to ignore my own psychodynamics
in favor of endless talking cure analysis
and occasional astrology cult ******
that promise to speed my eventual evolution
from wounded *** object to invulnverable starchild.

I don’t need a Beverly Hills shrink
to tell me my narcissism and depression and squeaky voice
are symbolic of never having the power
to set a boundary between me and my father
who doted over my puberty
with slobbering praise and veiled lust.

Everyone who knows me for more than a week
sees my father throwing me financial bones
instead of apologizing for what he did
and the more I take his money
the freer I feel
distanced by automobiles with dark-tinted windows,
a house with a skull and crossbones doormat,
a silver .45 under my pillow
and not one single ex-boyfriend
about whom I will ever say a kind word.

I have created emotional and psychological invulnerability;
all men are now my father
and all men pay the price
of never being loved by me
and I pay the price of never being able to let them love me.

Now I just play with partners
and when they inevitably start to use the “L” word
I start to run inside
and I bounce off the walls and mirrors
of my own emptiness
and I go on a photo safari to Africa
where I pretend to understand the meaning of life
and I put out restraining orders
against the men who insist that I explain
and I have come to rely on legal and monetary fences
to protect me from
the truth about my deep loneliness.

I’ve never had an ******
never said I love you twice to the same person
and I think
as long as the money’s there
I won’t have to.
JDK Aug 2015
I've been giving my Hit Points away in exhange for a cheat that will grant me invulnerability.
I hope it works . . .
Yan Aug 2015
I was shattered, I was hurt, in my mind I know I'm not alone
And there You are my Lord keeping me safe in Your home
Eyes are looking at me, pointing at me, killing me
People judged me, punished me, they took away my means of serving Thee

But God help me to understand, give me Your peace
May I still live in Your image as I go at night to sleep
Help me not to have thoughts of harm to others
And save me from the fire that put this life to wither

Help me to sing of Your hope amidst the storm
Between lightning and thunder, in the mist I can still see Your form
That I will not be blinded by brightness of all material lights
That I can be brave for any madness, I can stand and I can fight

May I still speak of Your justice as I continue to walk in life
To withstand those I thought who dwells in You but I was wrong, it's just a lie
To believe they still have goodness and it will be worth the wait
To feel Your love for eternity and with Your love alone they'll change

May I pronounce Thy faith with full certainty
No room for questions, no space for enmity
Through hesitations, all the pain, all animosity shall wane
All anguish shall diminish, only Your truth and love will be gained

As they continue to push me over and counting me out
Don't let me fall far under, don't let me filled with doubt
Teach me to turn all uncertainties to beautiful path that leads to You
Teach me how to rip kindness in every cruelness that I've been through

I was shattered, I was hurt, in my mind I will never be alone
Here I am my Lord, I know You'll be taking me back home
I will continue to live, to praise, to serve You and You alone
Let me be the way of Your Words, the rock of Your mighty throne.
Incapable of being wounded.
John B Sep 2015
Hemorrhaging black bile feelings at lost lovers

Lone in the night with the moon as my nearest cover

Hung from the mantle a trophy for god almighty

Running from the true king and god of all

omnipresent

entropy
This to shall pass...
Brandon Cook Dec 2013
I stand there alone
wondering if things are ever going to change
I stand there like a statue made of stone
I wait and I wait till your in range
I see you, stood still in thought
You walk near to me, but yet your still to far
I stand there alone
I see you getting into a car
I stand there like a statue made of stone
You think you know me
Truth is you didn't know me
from start to finish.
You see me
basking in my own invulnerability
a taste of blood is what I ask for
I see you coming towards me
I pull out a piece of metal from my pocket
I got on one knee
and I kneel there alone
I kneel there like a statue made of stone.
I see you gasp
you put your hand upon your heart
I take that piece of metal and pull the trigger.
Bam!
Now you know me from finish to start
I stand there alone
for I am a man
I stand there like a statue made of stone
Then I turned and ran
for now you know me as The Hitman!
glassea Jun 2015
do you want to be invincible?

i want to turn my skin to diamond
so the only thing that can hurt me
is myself.

i want to become adamantium
so i can walk through the fire
and pull you out.

i want to be bulletproof,
laugh at those who would challenge me
with weapons.

but at the same time -
i want to be as fragile as a flower
so i can be touched by the sun.

i want to bend with you
instead of standing, unflinching,
in the face of love.

i want to feel pain and sorrow and heartbreak
because then i'll remember how we laughed
and push the rest from my mind.

do you want to be invincible?
*why don't you ask achilles?
there is a sense of fluency
in his visual metamorphoses
framed in a diaphanous red
that isolates a consciousness
yet at the same time allows a journey
to ultimate extremes
of perfected enhancement
of the higher realization
of unfulfilling limitations
he knows that he can never be free
like a name in an address book
written in blue ceramics
that provides the impulse
to sensitizing thought
to the silence that walls him in
spiraling back in second hand decibels
overloaded with the complex distribution
of metabolic need
forms contradictory impulses
an index of vulnerable and invulnerability
like the familiar dissimilarity in his eyes
Harry J Baxter Jun 2014
My brain is jumping rope with my responsibilities
my heart is putting pins on my seat
and my words are thumbing their nose
high as a kite with a *** addiction
laughing like it’s all I have to go on
I just put my sunglasses on
so the drive thru cashier
doesn’t see the glassy red mischief
taking a selfie with the planet
keeping in touch with my unhealthy habits
I’m not chasing
***** that
I’m riding the rabbit
excuse me sir,
but could I trouble you for the time
all I’m asking for is a few more hours
to play hide and seek with my inner child
and tickle the monsters under my bed
the voice in my head is off on tour
so the mice are playing cat
prowling the alleys of recess city
to find that fine feline
who tells me she’s a dog person
TV made my couch a dime piece
music made me see things differently
and writing gave me a false sense of invulnerability
so I write another poem
pen another cry for validation
told my mamma I’m shooting for the moon
but he’s one crafty *******
and my water pistol is full of bourbon
not sure if I’m crazy or sane
not sure if I’m playing the game
or riding a train to arrested development
but let’s get a cup of coffee
and debate waking up before noon
a lot of blah blah blah
Lenny M May 2015
You have to be Super Human,
Your invulnerability inspires me,
When shots are fired
You try to evade not One,
You firmly plant your feet
Turn the other cheek
And reply "If you miss me , You Miss Me",
Shrug shoulders
With a stone cold face expression,
Gift wrapped with a warm smile
Every breath you take
Inhales and Exhales "I am God's child",
Thoughts of you border admiration,
I Believe you can fly,
To sore like Icarus ,but would not free-fall due to arrogance,
You have to be Superhuman,
No weapon formed can harm You,
Even when evil doers want to tarnish
Your Truth,
You retaliate with A Sunshine Force Field
And say
"It's all love boo",
Up, Up, and Away,
You slip on your cape
and try to brighten another caper's day ,
What can I say , You have to be Super Human
Up in the sky it's a bird , No its a plane, No its ...
Brandon Cook Oct 2015
I stand there alone
Wondering if things are ever going to change
I stand there like a statue made of stone
I wait and I wait till your in range
I see you stood still in thought
You walk near to me but yet your still to far
I stand there alone
I see you getting into a car
I stand there like a statue made of stone
You think you know me
Truth is you've never known me
From start to finish
You see me
Baskin get in my own invulnerability
A taste of blood Is what I ask for
I see you coming towards me
I pull a piece of metal from my pocket
I get on one knee and I kneel there
I kneel there like a statue made of stone
I see you gasp
You put your hand upon your heart
I take that piece of metal
Tighting my grip
Pulling the trigger
BAM!!!
Now you know me from finish to start
I stand there alone
For I am a man
I stand there like a statue made of stone
Then I turned and ran
For now you know me as
          The Hitman!!
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
articles like this really **** me off...
my father is a subscriber to The Times...
personally? i think that Monday ought to be treated
at a media / journalistic sabbath...
nothing ever happens on a Sunday:
what's there to write about on a Monday:
for a Monday... all the newspaper editions
are always the slimmest on a Monday...
it's like... take a hike, won't you?
the best day to read a newspaper, most definitely
a Sunday... it comes with all the cultural reviews
some recipes... a culmination of a week
or even a month... the news review and
the editorial comment sections are best on
a Sunday... why not print anything on a Monday?!
- and it's always on a Sunday that
i find all the juicy bits... the one day in the week
but the current month... bad timing...
either i watch the FA cup / the six nations
or i read a newspaper / the newspaper magazine
while drinking two bottles of 8.2% cider....
well, sure... with beer when you raise the game
to Carlsberg's Special ******* Brew that
comes in at 9%: it's an ugly affair... you start
squirming asking yourself: are you *******
a lemon?! but "alas"... it's cider... so it's almost like
drinking ****-poor diluted wine...
but it makes some agonising articles:
mostly written by women... a tad bit... more...
bearable...
         mainstream media is out of touch...
someone has already said it, someone is already
saying it: someone else will say it later on...
oh i'm big on the female-centric pieces of
the newspaper: forget all that objective journalism,
cold, hard, male: give me the facts and... *******...
no no... as a reader i'm also a weaver...
i like to spin a counter narrative in my head...
The Sunday Times STYLE magazine...
   Dolly Alderton speaks to a rising star in
pop music... a Self Esteem - formerly known
as Rebecca Lucy Taylor... oh, right...
so like Prince... or Michael Jackson:
the guy formerly known to be black? cool cool...
you can check her out...
music sort of akin to spoken word poetry:
whatever the hell that means... no, not Kate Tempest
style... again: spoken word poetry?
oh, right, i'm more into composition than
performance so this is: written word poetry...
fair enough...
   i'll sooner be found dead than performing my word
in the current climate... 'said a poopy word!
cancel him!' no thank you,
i still have a head ******* on this neck
on these shoulders... i'll wait for the jazz to calm
the **** down... i'll probably be an irrelevant
relic by then, hopefully mummified like
Lenin... you never know...
hmm... Rotherham-born... 35...
and what are the chances that...
you know... Rotherham... Pakistani grooming-gangs...
only yesterday my company employed
20+ Pakistani zombies that probably sprouted
out of cousin-on-cousin *******...
dull... zoned-out... glassy eyed *****...
what are the chances?
they looked... well... less sinister more murky...
slimy...no... not slim i.e. slimmy... slime-e...
slimey... i know, it should be written slimey
and not slimy... which sort of implies slimmy: slimming...
no no... so of how you'd write: smiley...
slimey... makes sense...
i'll just verbatim the headline...
(she really looks like a Marilyn Monroe doppelganger,
voluptuous, vivacious, all the required va va voom
of a woman)
   MEN ARE REALLY SCARED OF ME...
last time i checked... there's this ****** proverb
that states... fear has large eyes...
guess what... only yesterday i saw those large eyes
of fear when the four of us were outnumbered
by about 30+ screaming chanting taunting drunk
teenagers / football hooligans at a match...
i must have been squinting or something...
in this profession (of stewarding) i hear a lot of macho
bravado about smacking some...
very much aligned to the narrative borrowed
from the film: Rise of the Foot Soldier...
Essex gangland... blah blah br'uh...
                                       o.k. we get it: you have an erecticle
dysfunction, need to compensate by going
to the gym to increase your muscle mass...
modern films... hell...
they used to be great... up to the point where
they made it adamant that they were also
advertisement flicks... zooming in on products...
worn by characters in a no-plot scenario...
usually watches, electronic products...
food brands, restaurants...
it's like capitalism selling itself to capitalism...
what a hyper-inflated word...
which word? capitalism... i mean... i was born
in a former Soviet satellite state...
n'ah... it wasn't so bad... "my" people sort
of went along with the Russian influence:
when the art of metallurgy was still in "fashion"
in Eastern Europe, but it's not like we took
the Bolsheviks that much seriously than "we" did
the Nazis... after all: funny fact:
it took **** Germany AND Soviet Russian
to conquer Poland than it took **** Germany
to conquer France... Napoleon must have been
turning in his grave...
    i don't think men are scared of women...
personally i like to think of them as timid little
creatures that... OVER-ESTIMATE
their worth, confidence,
                              looks, worth...
                availability... as a man that knows how
to cook, as a man that does all the house chores...
and all the man *******...
oh, right, today... one of my cats did a ****-poor
job at taking a ****...
she managed to plough out two blobs from the "cuvette"
and leave them sitting pretty on
the matt beside the "cuvette"...  
   yes yes, i know, it's a misnomer... read some Wittgenstein...
i'm thinking in ****** while writing in
English... the word is originally French...
blah blah... i lied to little Freddy / Reinhart about
the origins of the word haemorrhage -
one of the words for his school spelling exams...
i said: oh... that's Latin... i'm kicking myself
over the etymological falsity i passed down on to him...
yes: it's Greek...
from HAIMA - blood (noun) &
                         RHEGNUNAI - burst (verb)...
so then i lifted her up and sniffer her...
oh jeez! Louise! **** this ****... i'm not having some
stinking cat walking about my house...
meow meow... ******* horror movie meow...
well you should have taken a **** better!
scratching, a proper bite at the hand!
into the shower with you! washed her from all the
stink... petulant little **** of a cat that she
was she managed to come across as penitent
when i shampooed her and the water was running
down her spine... ha ha...
so much for a maine ****... more like a rat now...
wrapped her up in a blanket put her
on my lap and watched about 20 minutes
of Liverpool's struggle with Birmingham City in
the FA cup...
                  then ****** off on my bicycle for some
whiskey and turkey stakes for the cats to eat...
wait... didn't i once feed Quorus a fish eye,
while filleting a trout? oh yeah... i did...
that was fun to watch... i sometimes catch mosquitos
by the legs and feed them too...
- do men can possibly fear women?
plainly, on the outright? i very much doubt it,
like Bane said in that opening scene from
Christopher Nolan's Batman movie:
this is no time for fear, doctor... that comes later...
how women have churned out a complete
lack of perception misguiding initial attraction
for fear... it's like they have no clue about how
men behave... when they're attracted
to women... "unconscious" curiosity is not
a fear... a woman is still somewhat abstract...
hell: to me she's forever an abstract...
i don't have the practicality of a man that might
gamble, take the plunge...
impregnate one...             last time i heard
it was considered a bad idea for a man to be
present at child-birth... women should take care
of women's "issues"...
ooh... i'm scared of a woman
but not a ******* tiger? logic paradox...
i'm scared of a puddle but not the raging sea!
how did women conjure up this
invulnerability? too many boy bands in the 90s...
too many male feminists?!
- and then the Sarah Everard ******...
men are scared of women... BOMBAST egoism...
no, not scared... just a case of men
scrutinising: is this going to be worthy?
tying the knot... getting up at 5am, coming back
home at 8am and getting nothing
5 pieces of sushi to eat... the house in a turmoil,
the kids growing up feral...
is it... worth merely the looks?!
the looks, right now? i mean... she's going to
be a ******* granny in about 20 years
if she's already a single mum aged 39...
is it going to be worth it?
or... if she's in her 20s... what's her boredom
spectrum, does she need to be on a ferris-wheel
all the ******* time or can she take an hour
of reading beside a fireplace and the deafening silence...
can she handle Mistress Death?
has she been to a funeral? has one of her grandparents
died?!
right...                    yeah.... scared of a woman
because of her good looks...
                scared akin to: what are the chances
she's going to go on a cosmopolitan safari
of **** given the current influx of black walking
****** of migrants on dingy boats...
what are the chances of her becoming a liability
rather than a partner?!

- - - - - - interlude - - - - - - -

****, where was i? oh man, i really love listening
to garbage... no, not literally...
the band... stupid girl, i'm only happy when it rains,
#1 crush, dog new tricks...
i never thought i'd find a recipe for
pasta and smoked salmon... lucky me...
so ******* simple... onion, sour cream,
some tomato(s), two tablespoons of capers,
lemon juice... pepper... chilly flakes...
preferably the Korean ones that also act like
turmeric - i.e. they colour the food...
smoked salmon added at the last minute...
some slices reserved for garnish to make
the dish look more appealing... and obviously
dill... to be honest: a lot of dill...
what did i watch? Beijing Winter Olympics...
why are they so racist?! joke... seriously
that's a joke... why are, why oh, oh my god why
are the winter olympics so racist?!
no winters in Africa?! maybe?!
no ******* snow... what are they going to
do... surfing on the dunes of Sahara?!
ha ha... it's untouchable! i love it!
but what i don't love... why didn't all the countries
simply, outright, boycott Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
why indulge them as if nothing *******
happened for the past 2 years...
i mean... the Soviets were boycotted back
in the day when people had... ***** for brains
and brains for *****... but these days?
even the **** are ******* labradors lapping up
any attention going their way... ******* silly *****...

plus, the Olympics per se...
there was always equality when it came to sports...
not popular sports like rugby,
football or boxing, i give you that...
sports for rich men and silly little ***** to drool
over status...
but real sports... unattractive sports,
unpopular sports...
we're not going to have a pay gap debate
when it comes to professional tennis...
women only have to play a maximum of 3 sets...
men? 5 sets... how long did that Australia Open
final take, to get finished? close to 6 hours?
right...
     what wage gap?
well, at least in the Olympics a man has
to run a marathon... a woman runs what? half of it?
no no... ***** is running the ******* marathon...
hundred metres? she's running the hundred metres...
obviously she's going to be slower...
that's not my problem... but even saying that...
i enjoy female tennis more than the men's...
i don't know... they moan more?!
or perhaps my generation, the millennials
produced 2 of the 3 greatest players in: whenever...
so... maybe it just a got a bit ******* boring...

oh, but i'll be boycotting the current Olympic
games in Beijing... it's not progressive enough,
there are not enough... what's that ******* acronym...
B.C.I.W. - black, coloured, indigenous, women...
i don't know what the state of the current
alphabet soup of acronyms from H'america is at...
****! **** ****! pump snow to Africa!
get some ice! let's get a bobsleigh team going!
******* Wankees and their currency
of current rotten ideas!

ha ha: it's already served to me on a silver platter...
all i have to do is drink a little and stew and spew...

sure, it's only going to be a soft boycott,
i just watch those games,
pointless... thanks for the pandemic,
no thank you, otherwise...
i sort of feel sorry for the athletes being so compliant
with the narrative...

oi! Ummah! where's you suicide squad from
Saudi Arabia's elite breaking into
the concentration camps where
the Uyghurs are being sentenced to unspeakable
horrors? oh sure... attack the West while
seeking proselytes, but don't care about
your existing Muslim community...
i see a third breaking apart of Islam...
i don't know why i see it... but this will not be
along the lines of the Sunni and Shiah...
this might actually involve the Turks...
i see the Turks as a third, separate,
branch of Islam: even if they're not already that,
where are your little ****-pants blow-themselves-up
rather than fight, fighting for your Ummah
in Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
                                   oh right, nowhere to be found...
too busy kiddy-fiddling English girls
in Rotherham!
      ******* degenerates!
i'm fuming at the teeth: and they have the *******
audacity to lecture me about, principle?
racists too... they think very little of the Chinese...
as Muslims... the "master religion"
the "master race"... ******* camel-jockeys...
the whole entire rest of them!

- the temperature in the house dropped to 17 degrees...
ooh, a bit chilly... wrote my father's invoice,
took out the garbage, ****... forgot to take out
the dwindling yellow tulips, will do, next week...
received an email that i passed my NVQ for role
as steward... well great... pressed play on
the thermostat... waited as i did all of that...
oh my my... it's getting hot... ran up to my bedroom
to turn it off... it read... 18 degrees...
wow! wow! imagine what one degrees Celsius makes...
i never thought... well: i never thought that
could be possible...

- - - - - - - - end of interlude - - - - - - - - - - -

i must have finished writing about the previous
article, since, i took time for an interlude of...
what was already stated...
                           this second article... i have to begin
with a rubric, oh yeah, it's sourced:
   ONS, UN, relate.org...

rubric, i.e. a list and it's as follows (leaving the approximation
words aside):
1. 1 in 7 people in the UK living alone by 2039
1. 61% of single women say they are single-happy
  compared with 49% of men
            (men, if they lie, are good at it,
   good enough to become serial killers;
    but women? they are compulsive,
which does't necessarily translate as them being
                       good at it; they're usually not -
they're spastic-fantastic sort of clumsy, at it)
3. 1 in 6 of British people believe in the concept
   of "the one"...
4. 10% of Brits enjoy the **** to the ****
with the chicken; 13% in the wake of the fine fine
MADE IN CHINA whatever-it-was don't
feel ready for intimacy...

               oh sure... the hypochondriacs have
finally been found... i was wondering why they /
where they disappeared to... but now they're in plain
sight... with their secular makeshift niqqabs...
i like this transparency... it's good for an apparent
"schizophrenic" to start to feel more comfortable
in his skin... then again: thank you China...
i can now clearly see the neurotics and the hypochondriacs...
the little people on the spectrum of the asylum...
no... the micro-aggression crowd...
no... not the raving lunatics...
the cult of the moon crowd...
the ones speaking to their shadows... taking
selfies of their shadows... haunting graveyard type
of crowd... thank you... i can see the mice...

5. 25% think they are out of bedroom practice, antics...
well, d'uh... 8% are more open to same-*** relationships...

  yeah, i was thinking that... maybe it would be easier
dating a man... but he'd have to be Greek...
and be learned in... classical thought from ancient
times when pederasts where accepted
like modern Pakistan freely welcomes paedophiles
as long as they do it to English girls... that sort of, "thing"...

i abhor the western concept of dating...
i might have been on a date once...
yeah... i was on a date once...
we went to an art gallery,
to the cinema, to a restaurant...
then we started dating, we were in high school...

after that? i was already ******* her
when she asked me to take her to a sea-food restaurant
for clams, oysters and mussels...

dating... oh, right... that one speed-dating event
that made me look like an ***...
dating... is that like... the Chelsea flower show?
you know... where you go to see flowers
but can't pluck any for a bouquette
to take home? it must be like that...
i wouldn't know... ****** off to the brothel
early... found a stone in the shape of a heart
on the pavement once...
called it my own... never looked back...

   just to make sure... i treat oath words very much
akin to superlatives - i know they're not superlatives,
but in the sense of keeping a modern
narrative... they're pretty much akin to being
treated as such, as, i dare say,
punctuation marks without actually being punctuation
markers... they allow for a flow of ideas,
for a flow of a narrative...

cuntish ******* filth if you ask me:
but i do wash my teeth on a regular basis
and i do eat healthily...

6. 1 in 10 Brits is burned-out by dating...
   & dating apps...
                                       don't know... never used
any... i'm still archaic in that i still have
a Facebook account...

7. 71% of men feel a pressure to be in relationships
compared to 58% of women...

as the list goes on... am i, supposed to feel, surprised?!

8. a 16% increase in those living alone...
9. 1 in 6 between the ages of 45 & 64 live alone
10. 48% of "singletons" (women) feel a pressure
to find a partner based off of their social
relationships... men work, together...
******* socialising... ******* with the banter...
the chit-chat... what are we doing,
where are we doing it, how long will it take?
base... women do all that private revelry *******...

11. women are more likely so say that a relationship
is unsatisfactory...  
              well... yeah... look sharp, Sherlock!
Watson's coming! ******* plonkers for plumbers!

12. there are three other facts, but they are
citing **** without numbers...
so... i'm not going to bother... based on feels...   yawn...
it's much easier to just recite lyrics from
the Garbage song: Stupid Girl...
you pretend you're high,
you're pretend you're bored,
pretend you're everything,
just to be adored...
and what you need, is what you get...
don't believe in fear...
don't believe in faith,
don't believe in anything,
that, you can't break...
stupid girl... stupid girl..
all you've had you've wasted...

oh, my god, is it my job to warn them off?!
HE will ask: and how ws your life...
i've lived with cats enough time to know:
and HE will ask... never mind: it be be a SHE...
and IT will ask... and ask... are you
awake... as if... implying: do you think you're dead?!

the rest of the article...
the pinnacles of female freedom...
i'm not going to cite them they're disgusting....
she goes through *******
cosmic concepts and premonitions that
are less grounded in the sands of Arabia
by a horses' hoof than a camel "toe"...

these wankers want to come up north and
dictate the ******* rules...
dictate this... change my ******* mind!
******* plop of a soppy **** that you..
quasi-***** seem to be...
kiddy-fiddlers... you soppy losers...
cousin-*******... camel-jockeys...
weak... quasi-men...
men... sort of...

          i'm not going to go through her article...
she's a sorry *** loser
by the standards expected of men...
no sorry... kind ***...
men band together....
  all as one... or none: to begin with!
and you women, think,  "think"...
you can somehow infiltrate our ranks...
what? you gonna bake me a bannana loaf
worth of loaf..
with all the pecan / walnut "trimmings"...
girl... you're having a ******* laugh...

i'm not reading through this *******...
you want me to bite someone's neck?
no one has yet seen how feral i can could become...
at the job...  i could just roll my eyes back
declaring nothing but sclera...
again: why are women even involved
in this sort of *******?!
why?! are?! you? *******!! here!! ypu,
******* useless, *****?!

i'm here to pick up a fight...
but here you are, pretending to be
a ******* grandma... and that's your excuse...
*****, i hope you get your head sorted,
get punched.... silly ******* cucnt...
oh right... my excuse among the football
hooligans... i'm i woman!
don't touch me! i'n your sister, your mother...
this **** is going to boil...
you tell me that ****, one, more,
******* time... i'm going to 'ed in yurr
******* grandm'ah...!
i know these *****... women are playing
a tight game...

esp. when you... ***** yourselves......
Rotherham didn't ******* help...
you ******* cheap **** ******...
i keep tight, silent, because...
i've been to brothels... but this ****...
i'm not even English... this... sort of hurts...
it, can't be, allowed, an outlet,
via... football, matches...
no, mate, no!

   your sister has been suckered into *******
this... sickle- cell anemia sort of *****
from Pakistan...
oh don't worry about theit race...
they don't have a skin tone...
their skin tone... if any:
cant's miss 'em... slimey *****...
olive oil slimey...
in-bred looking *****... *****-eyeds...
sorry... some people just look
******* clueless! period!
like they're out of "the game"...
they're gone... they're meat for the machinery!
the end! sorry... stop sopping:
no one's special!
weird like... Frankenstein looking
at the monster he created... seriously?!
i, made... that? oh, **** me...
better **** it... but wait...
oh... a chance he might transcendent me...
no... not with these kiddy-fidddling Pakistanis...
chances are... the ******* 4 seasons on
the continent of Antacrtica!
Meghan Marie Aug 2010
Ridiculous stumbles
of rooster squawks
and child shouts.

Pink, white, or green,
sweet and sticky,
dripping down
sister fingers
to the ground.

The soft humming of a motor
at a standstill in the night.

Smooth,
cold,
dark,
exciting,
wet bare skin and hushed laughter.

Exclamations of exhilaration
scream farewell to fears.

See our feet fly up
to greet the stars.

Pitter-patter drops
beating a rhythm
to a soft "Beyond the Sea" sway...

A sad loss,
moving on,
leaving behind.

Invulnerability
in a flash
of mortality.
Ravenlimit Apr 2015
I still remember the day I ******* up.
The day I let down my walls.
Giving you access to my trust.
More like I fell off of my walls instead of letting them down.
My own walls blocking me out.
I don't know where I am now.
I'm am lost in my thoughts.
I hear this constant beating.
My heart.?
Why am I bleeding.
Preconceived ideas of us meant to be.
How could I have walked into this so blindly.
I trust you..
That's why this hurts.
My invulnerability.
Are you to any worth?
The uniVerse May 2015
What if life is just a video game?
- or a feature film told frame by frame
What is our single aim?
- to seek respect, fortune and fame.
How many golden coins make a life?
How many respect points for a house, kids and wife?
What if we choose to wander off the path?
- to play it just for kicks and a laugh.
Is the character i inhabit just a mask?
- to hide from realities grasp.

How long must i continue to play life's game?
- constantly running from danger rather than facing the pain.
Sometimes I drift through levels with ease
or sit here wondering will it ever cease
if only real life was simple as entering cheat codes
or switching over to an easier mode
so I can have invulnerability and never get hurt
instead of sitting here on constant alert
sometimes i wonder why I've opted to play
when i can just eject myself from life's disc tray.

For Mario his main aim is to rescue Peach
likewise my true love is out of reach
not in distance and time
but in resistance of mind.

...and so the end credits begin to roll
as the hero nears his goal
but the many battles have taken their toll.

Yet still one final boss left to destroy
what tactics shall I employ?
- go out in a blaze of glory
and explode like a supernova
Thus is the end of the story
no life left, game over.
we are only limited by our own imagination
or the awkward voice of internal narration
Mariel Ramirez Mar 2015
the sky is a warm blanket, yet we
are inconsolable. wrapped and untouchable,
cloaked in isolation
desolation; this is not about crying anymore.
this is not about blood.
this is about ragged breaths, open pores,
mudstains. muddied legs wrapped up in pink
and white and flowered sheets. this is
about needing more. this is about
the hopelessness of the
search, despite and because of
the ceaselessness of the fight.

We will not be falling down anymore,
though our limbs turn jelly: this is about iron
spines. This isn't about eyes. This isn't about
weakness. This is about outshining the sun,
about the unflinching--
not wincing in the face of the truth.
This is not about invincibility:
this is
about

invulnerability.
09/28/14 1:02 PM
I published this elsewhere before but i'm just putting it here for posterity's sake

invalesco (Lat.) - to gather strength, become stronger
Trey Kha Apr 2014
You are a miracle in your own right
You are composed of the most honest of human emotions
You were created when
Your mom and your dad met
got together
got naked
and ******
However
somewhere along the way
Between the sweating, the neck biting and the hair pulling
Between those lust filled sheets
We made love
We made so much love in fact
that we had no idea where to put it
so we put in your mother’s belly
And that’s where love stayed
Until 9 months later
When love was ready to rear itself into our lives
Leaving your mother to questioning why this was ever a good idea in the first place
As her screams and yours resonated through the hospital halls announcing your arrival when you took your first breath
moments later you spoke your first word in the form of a question
“why”
“why Dad would you bring me into a world
so vile and unsuitable for a delicate being such as I”
astonished
Not just by the level of articulation you possessed for just being a few minutes old
but how beautiful you were
how as I held you, you radiated
with a glow so innocent, so naïve,
so pure
I said Love
despite the harsh nature of the world you are about to face
I want you to know
That with every ****** nose
Every broken bone
Every scrapped piece of skin
Every fall, trip, jam, or collision
Will come relief
Blood will dry
Bones will grow back stronger
Band-aides were invented for a reason
and pain is not perpetual
it is as permanent as the skin cells holding you together as we speak
it is then that you will discover that invulnerability and fragility are two traits you did not inherit from your mother or I
Don’t get me wrong
You are not indestructible
There will be moments when this world will take you in its hands
squeeze you
collapse itself in on you
and swallow you whole
Moments when you feel as if you’re nothing more than a pile of dust that vaguely resembles the person you thought you were
Moments when it all falls apart
But you are strong
you are rugged
you are powerful
you are tenacious
you are tough
you are
going to survive
and when you do that
You are going to love
you are going to hate
you are going to learn
you are going to learn to love
especially yourself
because if there’s anything I want you to take from this it is to love yourself
for the love of whatever deity you decide to put your faith in
assuming if you ever choose to do so
love yourself
you’re also going to learn to hate yourself
your reflection will become your worst enemy
and when that happens
I want you to look at that mirror
see how delicately it holds you
as delicately as your mother held you on the day that you were born
when you question why I ever decided to bring you to the world
I will tell you
that in a world so desperately in need of kindness, goodness
and things that make you feel all fuzzy inside
you were my first contribution
indigochild Jan 2019
let me try this one more time

                                                     i forgive you

for the bright colors you muted to pastels
for the rose thorns creating an unwanted invulnerability
for the forever creases on my once rippleless skin
my neck
my arms
my stomach
my hands
for the rusted barbed wire isolating my heart

they tell me I have your eyes
                    but, my worst fear is becoming you
- you ruined my life, but at least you tried
Augustus Sep 2017
I like the rain
More than the sunshine rays
I like it more than the days
I like the grace and power in them
The unforeseen and unappreciated invincibility of it
We are utterly powerless to stop it
It does what it wants, whenever, and wherever it wants
Sometimes it just a drizzle maybe even just a fizzle
Sometimes it pours like there is no tomorrow
And most of all, I like it because it cries
How beautiful the droplets fall
It cries with so much passion
So much emotion, so much humanity
And as much as I like the rain
I like you
More than any other gal
And you just lift up my morale
I like the seemliness and strength in you
The out of the blue and unacknowledged invulnerability of you
I seem so helpless to you
You do what you want, whenever, and wherever you want
Sometimes you are so meek, maybe even stoic
Sometimes you live life like there is no tomorrow
And most of all, I don't like to see you cry
But sometimes you must
You cry with so much passion
So much emotion, so much humanity
And as beautiful as your teardrops fall
You fall beautifully
You cry into a ball
Laying in bed trying to cry out the pain
And it just feels like you are going insane
But do not worry, my lovely
For this is not your downfall
It is a stepping stone
The birth of a new star
So my lovely rain
fall
Rain reminds of a certain girl that cries a lot. Try to comfort the girl through this poetry
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
i bid today a fond farewell, as i await a faring tomorrow, the start of a new football season ought to be grand, since Craven Cottage finally opens up its Thames Side stand and Liverpool are visiting... i bid today a fond farewell... it was such a pleasure: to this day... making my finest ice-cream, dark chocolate chip mint ice-cream... watering the garden in the dusk in the farewell... defrosting the refrigerator... cleaning the house... going for a truly mad cycling session... and just before i land in the land of nod... a session with my favourite woman: ms. amber (that's whiskey) and some neo-folk Deutsche music... Faun's 2022 recent entry: Tamlin...

von gott! those splendid Italians have had their ways
justified for so long...
even now... eben jetzt: their graves speak
like people walking, casually...
                that emblem that's poem 19 from
Ovid's second book of the Erotica
is by far the most revealing:
how little have people changed...
  how little is there to change in people!
the same pompousness of Pompeii!
the same belief in invulnerability!
like some monotheistic omni-this
omni-that deity!
            yet still reduced to petty squabbles!
reduced to haggling in a market-place!
still: man makes life of other more difficult:
more difficult than an earthquake or a flood...
man makes fellow man's life a burden...
how we lift the lazy and easily corruptible:
and the inconsistent and the alienating
and inefficient... and on top of that?!
the ******* priesthood and now the secular
priesthood that's bureaucracy...
  in Poland there's a saying that hovers above
the "joke" arbeit macht frei:
człowiek człowiekowi zgotował ten los...
(man unto man cooked up this fate)
how much we suffer from the deeds of other men
through their jealous incompetence...
how much is enough until enough is too much?!
why do the able men go chasing tornados
instead of entertaining their time as well
spent among nincompoops?
a man would rather dare the unthinkable
than "think" among idiots!
and this travels all across the social hierarchy...
both rich and poor can be id-est-"ego"...
    and am i supposed to celebrate myself
by counter: bemoaning the state of affairs?
  hardly... come and go...
            by the release bound to the eternal marriage
of mortals to that bride that's death...
i honestly can't wait for tomorrow's early morning
commute from Romford Station to Putney Bridge...
and then a day later:
watching the open season of West Ham
opening up its gates to Manchester City
arriving... just enough months of this crap...
this crap i love while grinding my teeth...
about to look for a position as a primary school
teacher... i'd love to mould these BAMBINOS...
these BOBASES into something before their arrive
at the cocktail of pedagogy...
more propaganda than biology...
that sort of thing...
and probably unlike an old single woman...
i'd sneak away to the brothel from time to time:
to water / feed my shadow...
mind you: i'm too ****** to have children of my own...
but i wouldn't grammatically **** anyone's
child up...
just a happenstance thought experiment:
like... it was "happenstance" that Leibniz's ambitions
only left him with a position of a librarian...
i'd choose the Leibniz route each and
every time than the route taken by Newton...
the smaller the life the smaller the heart...
the smaller the heart: the greater the vision...
there's only so much of "up"...
before... everything riddles you: "down"...
ought i be an engineer?
ought i be...

in the ***** of the patriarch Abraham
i figured out: i might have a brood of my own!
thoughts countering thoughts:
thoughts that obstruct thinking...
but then what else can i pass?
beside the brute strength genetics that
Darwinism stresses but reality denies?
people don't obey nature!
no they don't... you can try to explain
human ontology within the confines of
Darwinism: you won't!
i've seen it fail countless of times!
people are anti-nature...
that's why you have weathercasts!
                                    
                the ancients knew of the similarity
of man to ape... they weren't ignorant
of the fact...
but they chose to supress this fact...
and let the poets sweet-tongue analogies
toward the heights: the skies... the birds...
peacocks and swans...
      not some... chipmunks throwing ****...

i like thinking about the beauty of children...
i know where my sexuality is placed...
in women older then me...
matured...
            i couldn't possibly touch anything
premature... except for..
ooh! a green tomato salad!
that's something else!

the bulging thighs and ****...
i forget a lot of things when the right
combination comes into play...
then again: that rarely happens...
            what's preview is hardly every viewed...
not for the most of us...
happier thinking about children...
happier thinking about music...
    happier about 6am mornings...
happier: about... nothing... really...

              just... id est... it simply is...
                by the "music" of fate and gamble:
let's see... what will be: will be...
                                    i'm simply terribly tired of mortgaged
people.... people too invested in what's a bountiful
uncertainty,
i'm tired of boring people...
      one lesson to learn from me:
you only show respect to a person
when you allow yourself to eat with them;

i will never eat with someone who i don't
respect... regarding whether i respect that person
after i see them eat?
that's another matter...
bad eating habits is like bad ***...
i can quickly change my mind...
over-cooked pasta is a pivot of a swing
that might change my mind.
Danny E Harris May 2017
She said writers are soft
I told her that ain’t quite the whole truth
Emotional invulnerability can be a soul-noose
And when you do explore into the corridors and floors
of your expression
you’ve accepted that you’ll turn a couple stones loose
“It’s old news. I don’t wanna hear about your feelings,
or what you didn’t feel back, it’s really too revealing.”

I guess that all depends what you expect from what you’re reading
I mean artistry’s a part of our impression that’s appealing


No really – the world’s a crazy place and if you let it
it will crash into your spirit and rattle you apoplectic
I get it
she said and
grabbed her earrings from the bedstand
I watched her check her phone
she called me Romeo
and left then
Ives Feb 2018
I yearn to tear down your walls like I tear at the skin on my lips. Biting and yanking until I can taste the metallic blood. I will caress your mind like my tongue wets my mouth. I will apply various healing products until I find the one that works for you (hopefully it will be my light words and soft touches). I won't let your mind crack and break and chap. I know I shouldn't be so vicious getting through the walls you've built around you; I know it's selfish to tear up your mind the way I tear up my body. The curiosity and the instinct for experience take over and I might leave you wanting more even though it will show on your face you aren't healthy. Everyone tells me it's dehydration that causes this. For me, of water and for you, of me. Even though I drink and drink and drink to quench this thirst, the craving can not be satisfied. When I rub my lips together, they’re like sandpaper. I hope that's not what you feel when I decimate the protective layer of you. That is, only if you let me. I'm this force you didn't see coming. I appeared one day with a subtle joke and a cryptic smile. I found the flaw that planning from the inside causes. The soft edges and rough area in between, keeping visitors from delving to close into obscure secrets you don't want said out loud. But I can hear you through the concrete and pain. I will destroy what little security you have from a storm like me. I will destroy myself finding you. And once found, so easy to lose again. Forgive me when I leave; don’t forgive me when I run (although I will want you to). I want to know that I can come back, and you will still want me. I can speak easy with you and the words from my abrasive mouth will flow over and heal your cuts from the broken bricks like the water tries to heal my biting teeth and corrosive mind. It won’t help either of us. It will take us in, and we will be fooled into thinking this false invulnerability will save us both. It won’t. I will come back. I won’t disappear forever no matter how much you want me gone. I will be the acerbic thought in your mind and taste in my mouth.
Lili Feb 2020
She loves control.
At least that’s what she tells herself
laying in bed at night alone.
In reality she loves being able to hold all of the cards
and not having to give up a single one
only to have it returned bent or torn.

She’s figured out a way to be kind, and caring
without truly letting anyone in,
and without having to sacrifice her already fragile mental state.
Instead of brick walls shielding her from everyone,
she stands behind prison bars.
People can see her,
but they can’t get in.

while this may have been a safe haven
it quickly turned sour.
Like Icarus,
drunk on power
and too close to the sun,
what was once a place to heal
Quickly turned into a place that kept her isolated from everyone.

While she thought she loved control
She realized she loved invulnerability.
The lack of vulnerability kept her in isolation
and in this cell of loneliness
all she longed for was a love to call her own.
Trapped in an ongoing circle
of fear,
isolation,
vulnerability,
and pain,
she couldn’t find out
how to work love or companionship into the equation.

Having been burned to many times
and plummeting back down to earth
she feared the wax wings
that would allow her to soar.
She wasn’t afraid of falling,
she was afraid of the impact;
the pain that comes with love.

Poor Cupid,
with all of his arrows destined to pierce her skin
only to be ricocheted off of the metal bars surrounding her heart.
Her hope lay in an imaginative figure
smart enough to break the lock
or find his way through the bars
as she couldn’t see herself
finding a way out anymore.

She longs for skin touching skin
both ****** and freeing
as well as comforting and warm.
She longs for intimacy and freedom,
while maintaining independence and a sense of self.
She wants the courage it takes to be vulnerable,
because she is scared to be lonely,
and even more scared to be “his”.
LaFayette Dec 2019
Prided himself on invulnerability

An impervious monolith  

Covered with impenetrable armor

Until the strike, clash, clang

Brought down low to a knee

Bloodied, blinded, wounded

Armor shattered, divided

Fully exposed to the blows

Stronger somehow, someway

Resolve is his new defense
Nobuhle Bhengu Jun 2020
I fell in love with the way you touched me without using your hands,
The way your name played in my head like a song on repeat,
I fell in love with the way you consumed me.
I fell in love with your entire being.
The scars and the flaws.
The imperfections and the chaos.
The invulnerability and insecurity
I fell in love with you.
Anthony Cornejo May 2020
Here it comes
The invulnerability
My gut expands, coated in lies
My spine straightens, propped up
by rage

Here it comes
The immoratity
My tongue slashes, freed after years of contempt
My heart beats, no choice, no direction, no beauty

— The End —