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Julian Mar 2019
Tantalized by the fractious limerence of a vestigial habiliment of the old order, we conclude that hypertrophy leads to a limbo where random permutations alloyed by the rickety limits of concatenation subsume concepts that are equivocal but populate the imaginations of newfangled art forms that jostle the midwives of rumination to lead to unique pastures that are intuitively calibrated to correspond to definitive unitary events in conceptual space that sprawl unexpectedly towards the desultory but determinative conclusion of a meandering ludic sphere of rambunctious sentiments cobbled together to either rivet the captive audience or annoy the peevish criticaster when they dare to inseminate the canvassed and corrugated tract of intellectual territory created ad hoc to swelter the imagination with audacious ingenuity that is an inevitable byproduct of lexical hypertrophy. In this séance with the immaterial realm of concept rather than the predictable clockwork reductivism of a perceptual welter that is limited by the concretism circumscribed by spatiotemporal stricture we find that an extravagant twinge of even the smallest tocsin in the interstitial carousel of conscientious subroutines compounding recursively to pinprick the cossetted smolder of potentiality rather than extravagate into the vacancy of untenanted nullibiety can spawn a progeny of utilities and vehicles for dexterous abstraction that poach the exotic concepts we fathom by degrees of sapience malingering in lifeless bricolages of erratic abstraction in manners useful to transcend the repose of abeyance and heave awakening into the slumberous caverns of still-life to make them dynamically animated to capture ephemeral events that defy the demarcations of wistful indelicacy of the encumbered bulk of insufficient precision.

Today we embark on a quest to defile the anoegenetic recapitulation of canon that litters the dilapidated avenues of miserly contemplation that has a histeriological certainty and feeds the engines that enable novelty but ultimately remain rancid with the stench of the idiosyncratic shibboleths of synoptic alloyed impoverishment that leads to the vast wasteland of cremated entropy that is a stained foible of misappropriated context interpolated usefully as botched triage for daunting problems that require a nimble legerdemain of facile versatility that we easily adduce to conquer the present with the botched memorial of a defunct salience. Despite the travail of scholars to retreat from the frontier into the hypostatized hegemony of recycled credentialed information, we often are ensnared by the solemn attrition of decay as we traverse the conceptual underpinnings of all bedrock thought only to dangle precariously near the void of lapsed sentience because of transitory incontinence that is contiguous to the doldrums of crudity but nevertheless with mustered mettle we purport that the very self-serious awakening to our hobbling limitations is akin to a prosthetic enhancement of ratiocination capable of feats that stagger beneath the lowest level of subtext to elevate the highest superordinate categorization into heightened scrutiny that burgeons metacognitive limber. Marooned in the equipoise of specifiable enlightenment countermanded by the strictures of working memory we can orchestrate transverse pathways between the elemental quiddity of impetuous meaning and the dignified tropes of transitivity that bequeaths entire universes with feral progeny that modulate their ecosystems with both a taste of approximated symmetry and a cohesive enterprise for productivity that rests on the granular concordance of the highest plane to the indivisible parcels of atomic meaning that solder together to exist as intelligible if strained by the primordial frictions guaranteed by the brunt of motion incipient because of the metaphorical inertia created within insular universes to inform sprawling conurbations of mobilized thoughts designed to reckon with the breakneck pace of the corresponding reality to which they explicitly and precisely refer to.

We must singe surgically the filigrees that amount to the perceptible realities that transmute temperaments into the liturgy of routine conflated with the rigmarole of neural dragnets of reiterative quips in an elegant game of raillery with our supernal contumacy against the rigid authority of aleatory vagaries mandated by a dually arbitrary universe in a probabilistic terpsichorean dance with the depth of our dredge for subliminal acuity or the shallow bellicosity of common modes of glib contemplation characteristic of the basic nobility of improvisation. This basic interface with the world can either be mercurial or tranquil based on the interactionism of the enfeebled trudge of surface senses or blunt intuitions and the smoldering impact of the vestigial cloaks that deal gingerly with the poignant subtext evoked in the cauldron of immediacy rather than pondered with the portentous weight of imperative singularities of uniqueness derived from the plunge into the arcane citadel of microscopic introspection so refined that the ineffable drives we seek to fathom become amenable to the traipse of transcendental time that rarefies itself by defying the brunt of compartmentalized bureaucracies administered by the fulcrum of stereotypical notions of acquired gravitas imputed to mundane pedestrian quidnunc concerns that defile humanity rather than embolden the subaudition of gritty punctilios that show the supernal powers of the axiomatic divinity of sharpened sentience to reign with supremacy over the baser ignoble components of bletcherous nescience that leads to knee-**** platitudes that provoke folksy peevish divisions. We should rather orchestrate our activity by heeding the admonishment about the primogeniture of poignant sabotage buffered by the remonstration of innate tranquility and finding a whipsawed compromise of rationalization with true visceral encounters with the fulgurant quips of brisk emotions that grind industriously into amorphous retinues of the trenchant human imagination to either equip or hobble the leapfrogged interrogation of veracity and more consequently our notions of truth and fact.

When we see the hackneyed results of default ecological dynamics, we find ourselves aloof from purported transcendence because the whimpered bleats and cavils of the importunate masses result in a deafening din of cacophony because we strive throbbing with sprightliness towards the galloped chase of tantalization without the luxury of a terminus for satiation. Obviously a growth mindset is the galvanic ****** that spawns the imaginative swank of the pliable modulations of our perceived reality that, when protean, showcase the limitless verve of our primordial cacoethes for epigenetic evolution rather than the stolid and staid foreclosure of impervious sloth that memorializes the gluttony of speculation about fixed entities rather than imperative jostling urbanity that dignifies the brackish dance with dearth and the exuberant savory taste of momentary excess because it engages the animated pursuit of limerence rather than the exhumed corpse of wistful regret. Nature is a cyclical clockwork system of predatory instinct met with the clemency of the prosperous providence enacted by the travailing ingenuity of successive cumulative generativities that compounded unevenly and unpredictably to predicate a fundamental zeitgeist calculated to engorge the fattened resources of the resourceful and temper the etiolated dreams of the fringed acquiescence of a hulking prejudiced population of dutiful servants that balk at the diminutive prospects of a lopsided distribution of talent and means but slumber in irenic resolve created by the merciful hands of defensive designs that configure consciousness to relish comparative touchstones rather than absolute outcomes that straggle beyond a point of enviable reference to shield the world of the barbarism of botched laments clamoring for an uncertain grave from the gravity of the orbiting satellites of apportioned wealth both sunblind and boorish but simultaneously inextricable from the acclimated fortune of heaped nepotism and herculean opportunism. The intransigence of the weighted destiny of inequity is a squalid enterprise of primeval abrasive and combative tendencies within the bailiwick of the indignant compass inherent to the system that fathoms its deficiencies with crabwise and gingerly pause but airs a sheepish grievance like a bleat of self-exculpation but simultaneously an arraignment of fundamental attribution erroneously indicted without the selfsame reflexiveness characteristic of a transcendent being with other recourses to clamber an avenue to Broadway without malingering in the slums of opprobrious ineffectual remonstration against the arrangement of a blinkered metropolis of uneven gentrification.

We flicker sometimes between the strategic drivel of appeasement and the candor of audacious imprecation of the culprits of indignity or considerate nutritive encomium of the beacons of ameliorated enlightenment because we often masquerade a half-witted glib consciousness lazily sketched by the welters of verve alloyed with the rancid distaste of squalor and slumber on the faculty of conscientious swivels of prudential expeditions with an avarice for bountiful considered thought and wily contortions of demeanor that issue the affirmative traction of adaptive endeavor to cheat a warped system for a reconciled peace and a refined self-mastery. We need to traduce the urchins that sting the system with pangs of opprobrious ballyhoo and the effluvia of foofaraw that contaminate with pettifoggery and small-minded blather the arenas better suited for the gladiatorial combat of cockalorums tinged with a dose of intellectual effrontery beyond the span of dogmatism rather than the hackneyed platitudes that infest the news cycle with folksy backwardation catered to the fascism of a checkered established press that urges insurrection while tranquilizing dissent against the furtive actions of consequence hidden behind the draped verdure of pretense whose byproduct is only a self-referential sophistry that swarms like an intractable itch to devolve the spectator into a pasquinaded spectacle of profound human obtuseness that pervades malignantly the system of debate until the reductionists outwit themselves with the empty prevarication of circular logic that deliberately misfires to miss the target of true importance because of the pandered black hole easily evaded by creatures of high sentience but inevitably ensnaring the special kind of dupe into a cycle of bellicose ferocity of internecine balkanization. The vainglory of the omphalos of entertainment is also another reckoning because it festers a cultural mythos of glorified crapulence parading a philandered promiscuity with half-baked antics that gravitate attention and the lecheries of gaudy tenses of recycled tinsel alloyed by debased aberrations of seedy grapholagnia that magnetize as they percolate because of the insidious catchphrases embedded in pedestrian syncopation that ignite retention and acclimate to mediocrity the sounds of generations discolored by faint pasty rainbows rather than ennobled by majestic landscapes of ignipotent mellifluous sound that stands a supernal amusement still for the resourceful trainspotter.

Despite the contumely aimed in the direction of contrarians for deviating from the lockstep clockwork hustle of stooped pandered manipulation that peddles the wares of an entirely counterfeit reality, I stand obstinately against the melliferous stupefaction of entire genres of myth and subcultures huddled around the sentimental tug of factitious sophistries regaled by thick amorphous apostates that cherish the vacuous sidetracked spotlight with fervor rather than pausing on the enigmatic querulous inquisition about the penumbras that lurk with strained effort beneath or above the categorical nescience of the shadowy unknown that often coruscates with elegance even in obscurity. I fight with labored words to spawn a psychological discipline that invokes the incisive subaudition of the pluckily pricked exorcism of true insight from the husk of buzzwords that constellate auxiliary tangential distractions from the art form of psychological discernment that predicates itself on the concept that the rarefaction of rumination by degrees of microscopic precision enables the introspective hindsight of conscious events that can be parsed without the acrimony of cluttered conflations of the granular prowess of triumphant ratiocination that earns a panoramic perch with the added luxury of perspicacious insight into the atomic structure of the rudiments of our phenomenological field and the abstractions that linger beyond perceptual categorization. When we analyze the gradients of anger, for example, we can either be ****** into a brooded twinge of wistful resentment or we can decipher that through heuristics designed to cloister the provenance of subconscious repose with ignorance there exists a regimented array of tangential accessories embedded deep within the cavernous repository of memory that designates a cumulative trace of compounded symmetries of concordant experience immediately perceptible because of the tangible provocateur of our gripes and the largely subliminal tusk that protrudes because of primal instinct that squirms with peevishness because of the momentary context preceded by the desultory churn of smoldering associations swimming with either complete intangible sputtered mobility through the tract of subconscious hyperspace or rigidly fixated by an arraignment of circumstances with propinquity to the deep unfathomed flicker of bygones receding or protruding because of the warped and largely unpredictable rigmarole of constellated spreading activation.  
When we examine the largesse of the swift recourse of convenience we forget by degrees the travail that once bridged the span of experience from patient abeyance in provident pursuit to now the importunate glare of inflated expectations for immediacy that stings the whole enterprise of societal dynamics because it vitiates us with a complacency for the filigrees of momentary tinsel of a virtualized reality divorced from the concretism that used to undergird interaction and now stands outmoded as a wisp beyond outstretched hands straggling beyond the black mirror of a newfangled narcissistic clannishness that shepherds the ostentation of conceit to a predominant position that swaddles us with fretful diversion that operates on a warped logic of lurid squalor and pasty trends becoming the mainstays of a hypercritical linguistic system of entrapment based on the apostasy of candor for the propitiation of fringed aberration because of the majoritarian uproar about touchy butthurt pedantic criticasters with a penchant for persnickety structuralism. With the infestation of entertainment with the ubiquitous political cavils engineered by the ruling class to have a common arena of waggish irreverence we forget that sometimes the impetuous ****** of propaganda is cloaked by the fashionable implements of a rootless time writhing in a purported identity crisis only to gawk at the ungainly reflection of modernity in the mirror and remain blissfully unaware about the transmogrified cultural psyche that feeds the lunacy of endless spectacle based on the premise that one singular whipping post can unite an entire generation of miscegenated misfits looking for commonality to team up against the aging generations that cling to the sanctity of cherished jingoism against the intentionality of a revamped system that malingers with empty promises using exigency and legerdemain to obscure the mooncalves among their ranks that march on with quixotic dreams that tolerate only the idea of absolute tolerance and moderate only when feasibly permitted by the anchored negotiation of the fulcrum of totemic governmental responsibility between factions that wage volleys of invective at each other to promote a binary choice of vitiated compromises of mendaciloquence that ultimately endanger the republic with either the perils of hidebound conventionalism and nativist fervor or the boondoggles of fiscally irresponsible insanity cloaked with rainbows and participation trophies. Reproach can be distributed to both sides of the aisle because ironically in a world where gender is non-binary the most important reproductive ***** in the free world is a binary-by-default despotism that polarizes extremely ludic fantasies on the left met with the acrimony of the traditionalisms on the right that staunchly resist the fatuous confusions of delegated order only to the sharp rebuke of the revamped political vogue that owes its sustenance to a manufactured diplomacy of saccharine lies and ubiquitous lampoons that are lopsided in the direction of a globalist neoliberal bricolage of moderately popular buzzwords and the trojan horse of insubordinate flippant feminism that seeks to subvert through backhanded manipulation the patriarchy so many resent using lowbrow tactics and poignant case studies rather than legislating the egalitarian system into law using the proper channels. I myself am a political independent who sides with fiscal conservatism but libertarianism in most other affairs because the pettifoggery of law-and-order politics is a diatribe overused by sheltered suburbanites and red meat is often just as fatuous as blue tinsel and sadly in a majoritarian society the ushers of conformity demand corporate divestiture in favor of an ecological system of predictability rather than an opinionated welter of legitimate challenges to a broken system of backwards partisanship and wangled consent. Ultimately, I remain mostly apolitical, but I am a fervent champion of the mobilization of education to a statelier standard that demands rigor and responsibility rather than the chafe of rigmarole that understates the common objectives of humanity and rewards conventional thinking and nominal participation to earn credentialed pedigree when the bulk of talent resides elsewhere.
Madisen Kuhn Apr 2014
i guess you only like girls who are broken
and want to be hurt, like your hands
around her neck, want
bruises and cuts
in the shape of a heart,
inhaling and choking on your affection
like she needs it to breathe

translucent skin stretched across
veins that pump nicotine and you
you, you, you, you, you

judgement clouded by hyper-dependent
infatuation and the need to heal her
hollowness, although you’ll only ever be
another teardrop on her pillowcase
while she hums herself to sleep
with midnight lies

“the loss of you would be the loss of my life”

and the saddest part
is that i almost let myself fall
back into becoming that
lifeless, empty girl
once more because i thought it might
make you love me again.
written on 3/22/14
Valentia Jan 2017
serendipitous memories
and wistful sighs
cherry blossom petals
twirling amidst the skies
efflorescent flowers
ephemeral hours
ethereal sunsets
and starry constellations

anguished thoughts
and secret frustrations
incandescent candles burn
as if awaiting your return
anguish and lingering despair
heartbreak and hollow emptiness
caused by unforsaken pettiness

merely the potential difference
between requited love
and bittersweet limerence
why is limerence so painful?
LostinJapan Jul 2022
If suffering is happiness
and tears are love
I am devotion itself
break me
I’ll pen thank you notes in blood
Clio Sasi Dec 2016
Everything was fine.
The friendship was steady
Our organs were just in line
Mistake from my brain was ready.
A night, a saudade night.
I was vulnerable so was my thought
At last thinking a sleep would just feel right.
Well, I got closer to the trap my brain brought.
An hour later, I found myself in in a room.
A familiar one, my chaps were there too.
I looked up I felt doomed.
Talked to my brain, yeah this is cool.
Well, we were all together,
happy and bloomed.
A friendly limerence, that's all we had for each other.
The chimera felt me like a perfume.
Suddenly, I decided to leave.
Wanted to freshen up my attire.
But was staring at myself with pure grieve.
Heard a sudden din, was a person I admire.
He stood there, just stared.
Tried interrogating him. once and twice.
But the movements were none, just eyes with care.
Now it was not just him, I too stood there just as ice.
Then his fingers caught my upper arm,
pulled me close to him.
His lips with thirst touch mine with charm.
Mine joined them too and weak were my limbs.
Merrily opened my eyes.
A weird curve ran across my face.
He stepped back, satisfyingly sighs.
Looked at me, smiled, gone were his trace.
Sudden shriek woke me up.
Perverse was what I felt.
But my brain had already ******* everything up.
Amity was surrounded by this wierd belt.
I reached, where my organs retreated.
Walked, each step filled with guilt.
The door of awkwardness met me and greeted.
stretched out my hand to open it with brain filled with jilt.
Sudden jolt, I felt.
A face, made me nervy
It was him, eyes with care and a smile with stealth.
Greeted him usually, but feelings were lively.
But I sure can't deny,
That I never wished it to be true.
Talk about it? I can't even try.
But want that feel of caress, just like a leaf groped by dew
Alex E Dec 2013
You, still written upon my heart,
Running rampant throughout this body
I cannot lay still enough to sleep.

And each time I turn,
I can feel you forgetting
how my hand feels
in yours.
You’re just being- my day’s delight:
Simply shy, serene and sweet -
This my world’s one treat,
beautiful and bright.

The way you walk,
shiver and shrug.
Your quiet voice,
turns cold to snug.

Soft eyes, smiling
with warm lips.
Dark hair dancing,
twixt finger tips.

It's your stare,
lost lingering.
Soul bare,
bewildering.

Heart bleeds
to know why.
It pleads,
and I cry.

Please
pull
it
?
I think it's done :D
Limerence: "a cognitive and emotional state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person"
I wish this was defined as more than limerence,
But I can feel this fact is obsession alone.
My heart is burning loud and vigorous,
And you’re so smothered in the ignorance
That the birds known as passion have since flown,
And our heartstrings together are already sewn.

It’s not my aim to dissuade, divert or disgust.
I just ask that you listen and lend empathy.
For this is not an admission of lust.
Loan dash of sympathy, an ounce of trust.
Call not these reactions droll chemistry.
There is no room for science in this recipe.

These are movements fantastic, explosions of fate.
Yet I’m giving permission to let this one slip
And gifting forgiveness if you decide too late.
This, I am certain, will be worth the wait.
If you disembark aboard different ship,
I can promise I’ll follow by tooth, nail, and whip.

You’ve armed me with passion and know not what you’ve done.
You can insist that there’s nothing, **** this off clean.
Still this doesn’t come from just anyone.
I know you more than a prize to be won.
Even if you ignore this, my mad queen,
I’ve hope, for justice is blind and oh what she’s seen.
inkstains Jul 2015
you said love is hard when it's not reciprocated.
(i blinked)

you said it hurts looking at her from the outside in
and that you're tired of being on the sidelines
(i held my breath)

you told me your heart breaks a little,
when she can't take her eyes off him
yet here you are, begging God
for her to spare you a glance - just one.
(my throat tightened)

you said you're lucky to have me,
as your best friend
and i remember exactly how i faked a smile.
that smile was probably the biggest lie i ever told.

and then you asked,
"why do we fall in love with people we can't have?"
(i looked away)

"how do you handle this?"

i inhaled sharply, as i held back my tears;
**"i'll show you how."
//you can't help who you love//
inspired by madisen kuhn
Rebecca Gismondi Mar 2016
if I could be any one of your body parts I’d

be your fingertips.
when you break my gaze on screen, I yearn for it like

a lost child.
keep pushing others out of the way at aquariums so I can
touch the stingrays

and nudge my calves with your nose when you
want to be brushed

I promise to always remember where your car is parked,

if you let me keep that photo of you as a young pilot
in my pocket

in public spaces, we fill the

air between us with supernovas.
you are Sirius
you are the lobster
you are the look across the room at a party;

feel my phantom hands on your shoulders
I’ll crawl into the nape of your neck and make a home

plaster myself across your skin so you can find me

in the grooves of your hands
I’ll sew my words into your sheets so you will never be without them

promise me you’ll comb out your tangled hair if it gets too much

and wait for me by the Whitney
as I walk 341 miles for you.
Frostley Oct 2015
She is the vindictive snow
Beautiful, cold causing her chilling touch to leave me numb
She creates an overload of dopamine for me
But like I said she left me numb
She compressed limerence upon me
The concentric feelings I have for her  linger
This contours her opaque heart
Leaving her pliable words lay rendering in my mind
She applies this solvent to it leaving me broken
Forlorn she left me
Yet, the tactile, numbing sensation keeps me going
For she is the one I love
Causing our hearts to be diptych artwork off our hinges.
s May 2016
you've got me feeling
light headed
like some kind of coke freak;
dizzy,
but i'm not drunk
and i don't want to be.
i want to
lay in the back seat of your car,
weave my hand into yours,
and make you say my name
as if it were a bible verse.
KG Dec 2015
Sopor fuels the pen
Darkness devours the sun
As she carves the page

With beautiful words
Ethereal, Opulent
Sonder, syzygy


Vellichor, Gambol
Efflorescence, Effluence

Words without meaning

Lurk in the shadows
And hovels of ambition
Creep onto the page

But the mind embraced
In a blanket of obscurity
Cannot find their worth

Her Mellifluous song
Ensorcelled her lover
Bliss in limerence


How can the stagnant
Heart waltz with stars, write of love,
Beat in unison?

How can the lifeless
Soul connect with humanity?

*My words are worthless
Reworking this piece.
Yasmeen Hamzeh Dec 2014
A laughable matter, how hours seem to change you. Not change you fully, at least not in the way a metamorphosis occurs.
It changes the signs of irritation, the raising alarm and mostly it adds a deep longing.
A familiar feeling weighing down each breath.
It feels like a numb explosion. Like there is more to it, but it never peaks.
It taunts with promises of relief, but leaves you boneless. Instinctively you mark it as an unsatisfying end.
Could be labeled pessimism or rationalization.
You hope for more, you always do.
Maybe it's the stop of the turning clock, the one that resounds heavily each night.
The disappointment will dissipate eventually, but it feels like centuries until it does.
The memories that keep flashing are like salt; the familiar sting of the shame from fresh wounds.
The wind you always carry with you, it drifts you off to foolish daydreams. It helps hold back the inevitable shame and guilt.
Soon you understand, this is all erratic. It must lead to an origin, but it is one you cannot find.
You realize the attachment to this coldness is horrifying. You never plan to be cold, it just catches fire.
Time takes its toll. It takes away the chance of ever amending; of retribution.
The obstacles are clearly organized to hinder much needed evolution.
TearsOfChronus Jan 2015
In fleeting flicks of fervent flutters,
Unbanished feelings freely sway
Formed from limerent, flippant shudders

A force that'***** me like no other,
Calls the light I beg away
What room have I, in heart, for flutters?

"Leave me to my sighs and mutters..."
I hear my frigid heart relay,
Too fragile for these wild shudders

Brought to burning, stammering stutters
Nervous thoughts, frost-brought, decay
In pacing, panicked, manic flutters

This old and weary heart will utter
A word of warning ere I stay
Recompense for past love's shudders

Do I exaggerate these flutters?
Formed from limerent, hopeful shudders?
Alina Sep 2014
From dusk until dawn
My head flies into the sky;
My heart travels thousand miles,
Longing for your love...
Darling, I wish you'll be mine...
It's a sort of a japanese style poem...
Justine Muriel Dec 2015
She's mysterious but familiar
and somehow sinful but innocent
in the best way.
She's a new age old soul
and in one way or another
she is an adventurous introvert.
Shy, but strong
Young, but wise beyond her years.
Without falter, and without hesitation,
the only way to describe her
is as a *beautiful contradiction.
Elena Andrade Dec 2015
When my eyes first fixed upon him
my bones began to break
my heart began to ache
And as it slipped down to my stomach
the ground began to shake

But I don't even know his name
nope, don't even know his name
but every time I catch a glimpse
I always feel the same

Too many days I felt like
I couldn't even breathe
but a voice I've never heard before
buries me beneath
Below the surface of a fallacy
a fantasy, a stupid girl's dream
I can't begin to believe
that anything I wish for could ever happen to me

I feel so ******* weary
paranoid and dreary
Too many days I've spent just thinking about him near me
Why do I even bother?
What's even the point?
to pine after some boy who's probably smoking a joint

"A quick temper." A friend tells me
"A cheater," he says
but I can't believe anything other than what goes on in my head
my mind's screaming like a banshee
just thinking of what he could be
Thinking about that day when he first fixed his eyes upon me.
Strying Jan 2023
sure I already loved nature before,
how could I not?
with the glorious world around us
a literal fairytale outside our windows.

but something after you said those words,
made the rain look extra special in the light that night,
it was as though your words flipped a switch,
and now everything seemed so pretty.

I was still frightened of everything,
but my focus was no longer on my fear,
but on a feeling of glee,
and I felt so free,
even nothing had truly changed for me.
I think that new possibilities bring fear, but also excitement and confusion. Just trying to take things one day at a time.
Bounce into my life
Like spring waking the seasons turns
Breezy as cool light air
Of a tender morning dawn
The sunshine of my curtains half drawn.
Lynne Aug 2015
The rain comes as a shock
to the dry Texas land

The soil can no longer remember
a time where its thirst was quenched.

The hills are painted with clear intentions
and the earth smells of a fresh upheaval.

The roots dig profoundly into the planet
and extend from below to the cosmos above.

Awakened, within the terra firma,
a seraph reaches up into the leaves
and caresses the lush branches.

How long it has been
since the being could attain
and comprehend
the artistry of this world.

At the touch of life,
the being steps out
of its transcendental state unlocked from

her chains
of depleted soil.

She is cautious to be held in the bough.
But a flower blooms merely at her gaze
and obsequiously transitions from colorless
to the deepest amethyst ever beheld by eyes.

Down it comes, drenching the forest,
spreading its nourishment.
Small crystals appearing as tears
brighten the cheeks of the seraph's smile.

Color
rushes into her skin and she appears
to blossom
in her comfort and confidence,
mirroring that flower.

Snuggly she rests her seasoned heart
within the boughs she's only just
begun to fathom and question.

Is this renaissance ephemeral?
Even if it is, this,
this child of the earth knows the rain
is a feeling – and it's ineffable.
Katlyn Orthman Aug 2015
Beneath the eyes of a gleaming sky
Each light a smatter of fire inside
I watch transfixed as those stars align
Painting a love that lived and thrived

Quaking, it rose mighty on weary bones
A muse of it's own damnation
Convinced it may always wander alone
It stumbled upon the light of it's salvation

No longer afraid of the dark and the nightmares it hides
It cracked the glass around it's wounded heart
And pushed aside the walls it once relied
To open eyes that vowed to never part

*And kindred hearts sparked flames of passion
These hearts of the same dream
A heart that once gave love in ration
Was bleeding love in a steady stream

It laid to rest those broken bones
For now it walked on bones of steel
It laid to rest that empty home
And finally allowed itself feel
M Eastman Mar 2015
Aquiver mellifluous ineffable hiraeth nefarious somnambulist epoch sonorous serendipitous limerence bombinate luminescence ethereal illicit petrichor iridescent supine aurora solitude syzygy phosphenes oblivion ephemeral incandescence denouement vellichor eloquence defenestration Sondra effervescence cromulent cellar-door debridement

Illustrator icon verdant cerulean aeneous  albicant amaranthine azuline argent chartreuse damask ferruginous  haematic  hyacinthine ibis ochre primrose russet sanguineous virescent mystborn transcendence
Please comment to add your own beautiful or favorite english words and I will add them to the bank
Camilla Green Jan 2017
DRAFT
All that glisters is not gold. 7
(To) Those who think not: let it be told. 8
Take heed the lessons I could not grasp, 9
And perhaps your gilt chains might just unclasp. 10

End:
i realized it was (but) the the blind who told me I could not see;
For I slid off my contacts, and saw the same (aureate) world...







I had begun to look upon [] with shame, pity, and disgrace
Angelic _ _ threads no longer etched in his face
The silver lining is gone, gray and rust take its place


Now when I look upon him, 'tis not a look of love, but of pity, shame, and disgrace, because I killed him and made him a prince maybe

I created a world where the rust washed away
Crumbling as easily as freshly fallen snow
The same icy snow that melts into the hearts of the crown's next fallen victim




The sword drops from my hand as I lay in defeat

But the earth never took me as one of its own
My skin and my flesh stood fast on my bones

I laid there and cried for what seemed like a million tears
But even the purest water(add: ,the purest apology,the purest regret) from the depths of my soul could never let the earth take me
My eternal love for you, it will never let me go




Time after time, day after day
Pondering life as it all turns to gray
The leaves and the sky stay the same, always_ _
I laid all alone yet I never did fade.

Time after time, day after day,
I laid all alone waiting for something to change



As I pass though the graveyard I stop and I smile
A flower is laid on an old marble grave
The words on the stone were ones I had known very well
A familiar stone etching of words once carved in my heart
"An ephemeral limerance, ceased at long last"
Luna Jan 2014
A surreal affair
Intense kisses -melt my skin
Limerence deeply seated within.

The way you look,
When it's only you and I.
You can see my heart through my chest,
I wear your name on my arm -my sleeve over it, dressed.

We were coming together
Ye were coming apart
Collapsing, just like you do into me,
like my chest that rises back to your cheek.
Julia Brennan Feb 2016
Heart hope gurgling
From a gagged symposium
Fused by hollow cheese
haiku
Nicolette Sep 2020
ineffable sorrow
in the grey skies
staring at love letters
stained with cherry wine

on the window sill
lies the white rose
a love not to last
on the floor, her clothes

clandestine tears
of a hopeless romantic
her naive heart
so easily enchanted

she's a liability
that none can take on
limerence fades
the light in his eyes, gone

failed expectations;
for she lives in a dream
holding on
to promises of serendipity

addicted to euphoria
to dilute her pain
watching tears fall
down the shower drain

nothing left now
so another drink she pours
then into a cab
only to be broken once more
adorating Jun 2018
Hiraeth calls me
it is painful
and sometimes ineffable
I could not word it
longing, longing, longing
your name,
you know
is mellifluous

But hiraeth calls me
I'm in limerence
with the thought of you
Maybe that is why
I can not stand it
everytime you look at me
and speak
this feeling is illicit
I want you

And hiraeth calls me
I'm feeling homesick
home, home, home
to you,
you know
I can not return
you were never mine.
ghost queen Feb 2019
this obsession that consumes and burns within me
is it love, true, unconditional, the kind in fairytales
or limerence, intoxicating, ephemeral, lasting only 900 days
the moment i pledge my highest love, i face my greatest fear

when i fall to sleep at night, you are my last thought
the first when i wake, then all day long
kiss me, sweetly, softly, eternally, promise never to stop

wrap me in your arms, hold me tight, like a scared child
show me your love, prove it to me over and over again
kiss me, on the lips, tenderly, so i can feel your pulse

whisper, in my ear, tell me the lies i want to hear
share with me, the secrets, deep in your soul
faint echoes fading in a wishing well

kiss my lips, my cheeks, ******* tears
undress my dear, bare your skin, your soul, let me see you whole
let me taste your tears, i promise never to leave

run your fingers through my hair, feel its softness, smell it’s sweetness
do you remember, when we first slept together
scared children, orphaned, hugging each other tight, all night

i need to feel you against me, your breath on my neck
your scent, enveloping, penetrating deep within me
hug me, cradle me, rock me gently into security
#353 2019.04.02
gabrielle Jan 2019
loving you
wanting you
needing you
- at this hour of time
was just infatuation?
could've been more than infatuation, more than an intense desire.
Bella Apr 2018
You
Your face is beauty
You are perfection
Yet carefree
You need no correction
Seeing you makes me crazy
To know I can never have you
Makes me feel hazy
My heart beats fast
Thinking of you
It will not pass
Why do you do this to me
Why do you do this
Why
Why
Wrote at 2 AM just one of those "let your emotions out" poems.
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
I have never lost someone. until now. Death must be worse. I don’t know what it truly feels like to loose someone that you love. Someone that you have put so much of yourself into. To only have one person carry the burden of all the beautiful days you spent together. Whether it’s a parent, a lover, a friend, or a sibling. A loss of such a magnitude cannot merely fade. It must create a crater in the survivor. A deep wound that creates a void. And we all know that the universe hates the void and must fill it. It fills that void with tears and sometimes addiction and depression. Eventually if you make it through the pain, other people fill the void in your life. New friends, a new lover, a mentor, or perhaps a heightened sense of self. Sometimes you feel the presence of the one you lost. And you feel them loving you even though their body is gone. But when you loose someone and they are violently cut out of your life but continue to live their own separate one as if you were never connected, this is a barren alien place. Dare i say worse then death? I won’t be sure till i have experienced that and perhaps i hope it isn’t worse because i don’t know if i can survive much more. I can, and I will but I will never choose this. This pain that eats at my life. It hides in the corners of my eyes. It seeps into my dreams. It infects every happy place and basks in the sun of my day dreams causing me to slink back into the shadows. Because when death divides us from what we love, there is no communication except for what is left behind. But whatever is left behind; words, memories, pictures, spaces, they are infused with the sacred. It is sad but still pure. They still love you somewhere right? They meant all the things they said. They cared.

But death does not divide me. So i could talk to the person i am loosing. But they have stopped caring. Maybe they never did. If i had died then i would never have been forgotten. That’s what he told me that day by the river when the smoke burned my eyes and the cold clung to my skin and the other two were wondering the path of new beginnings. He said if i were to die he would not see the point in carrying on. Friend or Lover he didn’t care. He just wanted to be there as i padded along the path of uncertainty. But he changed or maybe I did too. The love in his voice was slowly replaced by desire and impatience. The care in his actions were replaced by responsibility and entitlement. And when his wildest fantasies were scheduled into his calendar and ticked off like a to do list, crammed in with other little dates and times, then i was not the first and only love of his life but the girl who embarrassed him at parties. So death, though you come for us all and most say you come too soon. Perhaps you have come too late. Too late at least to turn this simple boy into a star crossed lover. He was in disguise and i believed it. He wore a pretty mask. He still is disguised even to himself. He pretends to be good and nobel and misunderstood. But he lacks dimensions and most of all he lacks Limerence. Limerence, the ability to maintain love. So i have lost someone, but not to death or even distance. I have lost someone to reality. Because if he really loved me he would never have let this be our ending.
death, heartbreak, over it now but good writing happened, dying, losing friends, breakup, cheating, overrated, i'm quite happy now thanks for asking, i am at peace,
D A W N Feb 2019
whenever your head rests against my shoulder,
sometimes i could feel our hearts beating in tandem.
i feel ecstatic whenever our gaze would always find each other, i could feel your eyes engulf at the sight in front of you. sometimes i could hear the butterflies flutter against my stomach every time our hands would brush against each other "accidentally", hands that are like magnets, hands that longed to be held by hands whom fit perfectly.
but i shouldnt get the wrong idea. you liked someone but me.
but if wishes came true and magic was real, how many arrows would it take for cupid to make you fall in love with me?
(more of a rant than of a poem SKSKSKSK not guilty.)
limerence
(n) the state of being infatuated with another person.
Felix Sipido Oct 2018
Eros,
Or the limerence I feel.
Is it a sin to adore you?
Eros,
Or the way you drive me crazy.
Is it a sin to worship you?

Through time and space,
Through love and pain,
Eros, you paved the way.
For I was lost in the maze of live,
Fleeing for the shadow of Fear.
Eros, you rescued me
And like a green Pan
Led me to your world.

A world of magic where love flourishes
And sorrows die.
A world where finally
I could be free
With you.
Eros.

Pothos.
People driven by lust want to have ******* with each other. But people driven by Eros want to have a much broader fusion. They want to share the same emotions, visit the same places, savour the same pleasures and replicate the same patterns in each other’s minds.
relahxe Mar 31
I look at you
A ghost without boundaries
My hands reaching out
To grasp your heart
Nothing there to stop me

I look at you
Ephemeral
And ethereal
I wonder when you’ll see
The way I view you
An abstract concept
Far away
Never to be found
Never to be touched
Yet an object of limerence
An object of love
That is not to be realized

Saudade
Object of obsession
You are nothing more than that
You are much more than that

A ghost without boundaries
Dead yet alive in my mind
Fitting in the puzzle pieces
As I fit the parts of my heart
Last time it fell for you

— The End —