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"phosphenes" poems
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
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 10:31 AM UTC
Beautiful Wordbank
#do you know what phosphenes are? when you rub your eyes those little blinking dots the ones of different colours that dance around alluringly you are very much like phosphenes a vast array of colour destroying boundless darkness make me forget my fatigue i immerse myself in your beauty breathtaking, indescribable but as soon as i open my eyes you disperse into nothing i'm met with the sight of another bleak day until i close my eyes again a̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶u̶b̶ ̶e̶l̶s̶e̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶
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Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
.phosphenes
Writing letters in Spanish to Penthouse magazine because everything sounds better in español. It was a beautiful loving thing before it all exploded like a train wreck. Are you furious? A country that douses itself in English and then drowns you at the hearth. Cherry vanilla Obsessive compulsive Mint and lemon-grass handwash The only things that matter? Thoughts from when I first woke up this morning... Still in that fuzzy bit where you don't open your eyes and no matter how you're laying, it's always comfortable. A feeling I take for granted. I think about you kissing my ******* and not about how you're falling in love with my best friend; but if she's happy, I'm happy. Good morning.
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Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Phosphenes
~ *black tie, bare feet, a walk through dandelions, following the scent of wine and mirthful promise phosphenes and paresthesia —slow dazzle motif; the bluebird of happiness echoes in a shallow bay; pieces of places to claim as theirs: moth wings, flower petals, and blades of grass seduced by eventide, unhurried mouth(s), lips searching and soft, all words seem to have a few extra vowels; sudden ubiquity to collisions and slippages, cultivating suggestive shapes from aleatory arrays of objects and forms in the surf they mingle and link, emancipating adrenaline; they love like they were water for life* ~
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Apr 17, 2023
Apr 17, 2023 at 5:11 PM UTC
They Were Wed By The Sea
Dwelling is a razor regret, drip-fed poison guilt, a creaking chain as it tightens around my neck. Stockholm syndrome has me in that         lovelifedeath grip. And as my own jailer I rail against myself Caught in a purgatory- safe drawing blood then consoling.                                 I can't see........ My corneas tear in the wind there's some metaphysical connection, I know it I don't want to look at my life as it is The guilt twists my guts I'm pathetic in my failures and grasping at a fading light. Ah perfectionism,  my abusive lover; you endow me such power, then beat me senseless I'm goddess, then mortal- panicking       frail with nowhere but elusive horizons to go. Phosphenes those  bright spots of colour as I rub my eyes- Once again I wake too early and that too-familiar cyanide starts to leak through my veins and anxiety grips me How'll I ever get it right              make it out              fix it all              come out from under              breathesucceedrelaxenjoybeworthsomething   in short has my bright patch of colour had its day? I can't face it.
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Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
Phosphene
"That felt like forever," and I meant it as the sound broke through the noise of the Saturday morning experience I was having and enjoying I caught your eyes and you hid from my blurry face behind the thin flesh as the phosphenes flickered blue and red and yellow like my father's old television that clicked loudly when I'd turn the dial I buried my burning face In the soft fabric that's been through the wash one too many times and I smelled fresh ink in the sensation of mallets colliding with my temples You wrapped all of you around all of me and I felt the crude, harsh lines of your figure against the curves of my hatred I held my breath and released my soul The building collapsed around us and in the debris I found photographs of a face I only vaguely remember and that old broken heirloom that I still keep around even though I know it's not worth anything But for that one second when my body and spirit connected and my consciousness slipped away as I fell into a new dissociation I woke up and understood that we were existing only for this and it felt like forever
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Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
Rocko
Exploring hands encounter no defence; Recollecting endeavours drives her to a dry pain Throbbing, throbbing Hamlet's hamartia discards her to the lowest of the dead His vanity requires no response; Her life on the line and he's got nothing to lose.   So much more the eye can see Caressing, caressing Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass;   Leave me, carbuncle: Words she has never been able to utter . . . Loudly, she thinks it It doesn't translate Shivering, quivering Brittle monster bestows one final patronising kiss   I must exercise some form of self control Hardly aware of her departed lover, She lays in a yellow blanket; Phosphenes in the emerging light of day.
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
when lovely woman stoops to folly
No im not that betrayal creatures which disappear once i felt cherished right after they call me but what about people who forget me when im done cherishing them what about me you see im flawed i can't stand them forgetting me just like that im not as real as bright as victorious as the stars but im one of them but just a different kind of one i have to dissapear putting those blames on me im okay
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Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 2:54 AM UTC
Phosphenes' line
gaslit streams of dreams and now you're psychedelic soaking in highs and higher you're throwing me over the bridge and under a bus but      _>is that a bucatti?_ and im telling you      _>no, its just another dead thing_ and that seems to catch your blown eyes for a moment because you smile at me as if I can't already see the phosphenes dancing behind your gaze but not before you say      _>what if we could make it one?_ and now i'm smiling too because      _>who's to stop us?_ the night seemed impossible and unfortunately, we were still awake.
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Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
gaslit
i want to see stars in daylight, so i rub my eyes.
0
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 5:13 AM UTC
phosphenes
In a castle constructed of bones on a mountain high, our hero sits alone on an ivory throne, waiting for his current state of jejune to pass. Whisperings of a voice, mellifluous air, a singing so beautiful his heart skips a beat at the gentle murmurings of such an ethereal voice. And so he vacates his ivory throne in search of this songbird that has invaded his walls, the voice instils a certain hiraeth in his mind, that village once so dear to him that now lies in ruins due to his incandescent bursts of magical madness. The owner of this voice, the eloquence, the elegance, the image in his head that of a maiden on a rock, as naked as the day she was born and bathed in an iridescent sunrise. A scintilla of a break in her voice and she begins to sob at the meaning of her words. He finds the source of this angelic sound, a woebegone but comely creature supine on a table, her eyes staring into heavenly mountains of madness. She does not look to meet his wild-eyed gaze, instead melting away until she is nothing at all, leaving only dancing embers and phosphenes where she had lain. He hears this burst of angelic quavers every day but his madness permits no memory of each to reside in his brain, comfortable and snug. Instead, he suffers this delusion every morning, when his head his quiet and thoughts are oblivion. This siren swansong has no source in reality, it is the last vestige of a mind damaged by time and solitude, where the dawn chorus each morn’s twilight goes unheard, but the ghostly choral vocalisations of a bitter memory break his trance and he searches for the only sound not real.
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
The Unrequited Love Story of an Unknown King
In a castle constructed of bones on a mountain high, our hero sits alone on an ivory throne, waiting for his current state of jejune to pass. Whisperings of a voice, mellifluous air, a singing so beautiful his heart skips a beat at the gentle murmurings of such an ethereal voice. And so he vacates his ivory throne in search of this songbird that has invaded his walls, the voice instils a certain hiraeth in his mind, that village once so dear to him that now lies in ruins due to his incandescent bursts of magical madness. The owner of this voice, the eloquence, the elegance, the image in his head that of a maiden on a rock, as naked as the day she was born and bathed in an iridescent sunrise. A scintilla of a break in her voice and she begins to sob at the meaning of her words. He finds the source of this angelic sound, a woebegone but comely creature supine on a table, her eyes staring into heavenly mountains of madness. She does not look to meet his wild-eyed gaze, instead melting away until she is nothing at all, leaving only dancing embers and phosphenes where she had lain. He hears this burst of angelic quavers every day but his madness permits no memory of each to reside in his brain, comfortable and snug. Instead, he suffers this delusion every morning, when his head his quiet and thoughts are oblivion. This siren swansong has no source in reality, it is the last vestige of a mind damaged by time and solitude, where the dawn chorus each morn’s twilight goes unheard, but the ghostly choral vocalisations of a bitter memory break his trance and he searches for the only sound not real.
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33
my eyes are tired of drinking daylight a breeze rustles the vines outside my window will it be cool tonight? the phone goes unanswered the tv remains off it's time to rest upon my pillow there is nothing but darkness phosphenes the sound of ears ringing and dreams of you
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Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 3:09 PM UTC
Sweet Dreams
I take a pill each morning-- "to keep the madness away," declared the doctor, her tone clinically nonchalant as she handed to me a prescription for small, white tablets that leave a bitter chalkiness in your mouth when you've left them on your tongue for too long before swallowing. But there is only so much modern-day pharmaceuticals can remedy. Sometimes, I can still hear her, you know-- sweet. lost. mad Alice scratching at the tessellated patch-work of my psyche. I can still feel her as my fingertips flit across the liquor bottle-- "Drink Me," it murmurs. Curiouser & curiouser I become with every shot. When the room starts lurching, when I am too dizzy to stand, I close my eyes only to find that the world is still spinning. Or perhaps I am just falling. Yes, D    O        W             N the rabbit hole I go. And, as I plummet, the phosphenes of colour behind my eyes transmute into the most peculiar images: a mercury-tainted top hat encompassing the harlequin countenance of a man as crazed as I; the trundling wings of a Jabberwock and the heaving snout of a Bandersnatch; a pocket watch, its face lustrous and encrusted with Jadestone-- "Time. It's time!" it chimes. "Time for what?" exclaims the girl in the periwinkle petticoat (she appears simultaneously excited and terrified by the impending chaos). "Bloodshed," reckons the squire of the pocket watch-- the March Hare, a grisly little thing in a tattered waist jacket. "Bloodshed, bloodshed, off with her head!" And that girl in periwinkle? Why that girl is me, and the Queen of Wonderland has dealt her cards-- she'd like my head (and my heart). But sweet. lost. mad Alice has a trick of   her own to deal-- a Wild Card tucked beneath her sleeve. She is capable of imagining at least six impossible things before the high is over, you know. All it takes is a simple flutter of an eyelash and then, gripped between her fingers, appears a substance foreign to Wonderland-- *** "Bottoms up-- for with this, I shan't feel a thing," she surrenders. "What?" roars the queen upon her arrival. "You will not fight? Why, you must be mad!" "Haven't you heard?" replied Alice. "All the best people are-- Cheers."
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Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Requiem for Wonderland (Drink Me)
I take a pill each morning-- "to keep the madness away," declared the doctor, her tone clinically nonchalant as she handed to me a prescription for small, white tablets that leave a bitter chalkiness in your mouth when you've left them on your tongue for too long before swallowing. But there is only so much modern-day pharmaceuticals can remedy. Sometimes, I can still hear her, you know-- sweet. lost. mad Alice scratching at the tessellated patch-work of my psyche. I can still feel her as my fingertips flit across the liquor bottle-- "Drink Me," it murmurs. Curiouser & curiouser I become with every shot. When the room starts lurching, when I am too dizzy to stand, I close my eyes only to find that the world is still spinning. Or perhaps I am just falling. Yes, D    O        W             N the rabbit hole I go. And, as I plummet, the phosphenes of colour behind my eyes transmute into the most peculiar images: a mercury-tainted top hat encompassing the harlequin countenance of a man as crazed as I; the trundling wings of a Jabberwock and the heaving snout of a Bandersnatch; a pocket watch, its face lustrous and encrusted with Jadestone-- "Time. It's time!" it chimes. "Time for what?" exclaims the girl in the periwinkle petticoat (she appears simultaneously excited and terrified by the impending chaos). "Bloodshed," reckons the squire of the pocket watch-- the March Hare, a grisly little thing in a tattered waist jacket. "Bloodshed, bloodshed, off with her head!" And that girl in periwinkle? Why that girl is me, and the Queen of Wonderland has dealt her cards-- she'd like my head (and my heart). But sweet. lost. mad Alice has a trick of   her own to deal-- a Wild Card tucked beneath her sleeve. She is capable of imagining at least six impossible things before the high is over, you know. All it takes is a simple flutter of an eyelash and then, gripped between her fingers, appears a substance foreign to Wonderland-- *** "Bottoms up-- for with this, I shan't feel a thing," she surrenders. "What?" roars the queen upon her arrival. "You will not fight? Why, you must be mad!" "Haven't you heard?" replied Alice. "All the best people are-- Cheers."
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125
whispered dreams and echoes in the dark throwing tantrums at night for a ******* piece of death between my frozen-in-motion lips that mouthed the three words in the living *i need you because i do* i pressed the tips of my fingers to my eyelids until i saw phosphenes and everything hit me like a bullet so i ****** oxygen inward as if drowning and then i realised i needed you even more than that more than the oxygen that kept me alive and alone more than the blood that fills my veins and whole heart more than the alcohol that ***** my liver and lifts my head more than that what makes time move forward more than **** gravitation that has the earth turning more than whatever it is that makes me think at all i need your hand on my back to keep me steady i need you talking to me like i'm real and i'm here for you i need you walking beside me in the alleyways of town clenching my hand in case this is over too soon i need your hair stroking my cheek like it used to i need your eyes on me in all the ruddy colours they are i need you with all your laughter, cries, **** ups, frustration, caresses, shame, fears, dreams, echoes, tantrums and lips you and i it's engraved in our skin that's why.
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May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 8:25 PM UTC
because i do
Your eyes are the colour of the starry night sky; I close my eyes watching the Fireworks of phosphenes And in my vision I see your cold blue stare: warm, friendly, loving. Too warm, too friendly, too loving. My hands reached forth meeting a blistering nothing. Our palms are two halves meant to be one, fingers intertwined and locked Yet locked is your heart to which a key I have not. My heart raced while watching you from afar A spark ignited and soared into the black sky. Exploding, it lit up the dark night and showered me with your warmth and fire One I enveloped and was blinded by; I could not see the light Fade into the stark starless nothingness Instead, all I saw was you (and the life I wanted with you) Countless, fruitless attempts of baring my soul to you made me question Perhaps Cupid misfired, made me askew, and still I yearn for you. I am afraid, you know. Yet, a sliver of light slipped between the crack of the closet door Do I grasp it or do I leave the light be? (laughs) Forgive me. To be or not to be, wasn't the crux, was it? Staring at you from across the room, I've come to realize Hard truths never fail to fall even the strongest—you only have eyes for Others Cause after all, norms are meant to be adhered to And the sky is never always a clear blue. Fireworks don't last forever, Do they? In the darkness I stand watching them fade. I clutch at my heart, fire ablaze. It shall stay ablaze For all eternity.
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Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 4:16 AM UTC
In the dark
My mind is aquiver with these thoughts that swarm like bees Yet just the same my body trembles by the touch of your skin As your mellifluous voice makes silent the buzzing in my ears It's strange you see, the paradox that is us, you and I together There is terror and calm, there is beauty and horror in it all Like a sort of Yin and Yang but more so just a tug-o-war With this I look in the past and question the limerence that was It blinded us and deceived us like a butterfly hiding from a predator We thought we knew what Love was, but maybe it was never made We only rubbed our eyes and like phosphenes we saw an illusion Colors that may only exist in a moment, but aren’t pure reality Our lives together became so flawed in all we tried to conceive   The moments of bliss and happiness were always just ephemeral We got caught up in oblivion, because we lost ourselves before There never was a truth to see, we were birds flying as if deaf With this I come to a resolution that our relation was merely cromulent We attempted to ameliorate something that was doomed from the start Yet I think there was a sort of dalliance, but simply rooted in the flesh
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Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 9:36 PM UTC
To Question a Love that may never have Existed
Affection draws me to you your every part and every moves and shatters me to pieces your hair that falls like lightening sparkles with thunder on my darkest night like routine, these days and shatters my conscience like all those trees falling helplessly, grotesque and broken constellations shines in your eyes and in my eyes are phosphenes of your images blurred by shadowy lights floating down the drain of my brain through my heart as i slowly lose what was once so dear to me i fall miserably in the salty tears unable to swim across the dimples that forms in your cheeks when you smile i try to stretch my lips from ear to ear in vain i am not under my control these days i have forgotten to love me since you declined all the love i showered over  you and that love now flows down the gutter like monsoon rain my once big bright enthusiasm now floats around teasing me to despair together with smokes of cigarettes i have just begun to smoke i have been such a reckless lover you have been always been the better one my favourite lines of love poetry which i seem to relate has turned to some crazy language i can't understand all those days i sought to hold your hands forever i dreamt  you by my side brought you all my life, i could't lose i fed to you, affection so annoying now life devalues day by day you have been a chain even with regret cannot be undone i wash my hand time to time unable to wash you from my heart i turn back and look at you splitting me away... from morning to night as i barely survive residing on the corner.. dark.. waiting for lightning thunders, flood... silently extinguishing the light of my life with the candle dying over the note i used to write love poems with your name at the end does it even sense
0
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
What is coming around
Affection draws me to you your every part and every moves and shatters me to pieces your hair that falls like lightening sparkles with thunder on my darkest night like routine, these days and shatters my conscience like all those trees falling helplessly, grotesque and broken constellations shines in your eyes and in my eyes are phosphenes of your images blurred by shadowy lights floating down the drain of my brain through my heart as i slowly lose what was once so dear to me i fall miserably in the salty tears unable to swim across the dimples that forms in your cheeks when you smile i try to stretch my lips from ear to ear in vain i am not under my control these days i have forgotten to love me since you declined all the love i showered over  you and that love now flows down the gutter like monsoon rain my once big bright enthusiasm now floats around teasing me to despair together with smokes of cigarettes i have just begun to smoke i have been such a reckless lover you have been always been the better one my favourite lines of love poetry which i seem to relate has turned to some crazy language i can't understand all those days i sought to hold your hands forever i dreamt  you by my side brought you all my life, i could't lose i fed to you, affection so annoying now life devalues day by day you have been a chain even with regret cannot be undone i wash my hand time to time unable to wash you from my heart i turn back and look at you splitting me away... from morning to night as i barely survive residing on the corner.. dark.. waiting for lightning thunders, flood... silently extinguishing the light of my life with the candle dying over the note i used to write love poems with your name at the end does it even sense
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53
Bright cold silver moon Staring into the scales - your nacreous eyes You are my ****** I touch your hair ever so delicately Why am I filled with torrid logy? You are my narcotic, you Unknowingly sew the lids of my eyes closed Cross-stitched phosphenes of your face under my eyelids I am overcome with a voracious thirst to drink you, or the glass of moonshine balanced precariously on your lips Everything is better when my being splinters, fractures, and crumbles into your lap Moonshine, take us to the cosmos tonight
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
vespertine
sun’s light plays through disbursing clouds winding the day down; long legged spidery shadows glinting reflections ignite phosphenes inside his closed eyes cool finger-like breezes a sensual treat for warm body and tired mind beyond papa’s peeling painted porch, sparse leaves on a rose bush’s bramble of dying brown branches sway and tickle with wind chimes white wood railing diminished by dry rot carnitas’ aroma remoras, zephyring eastward, riding in from a nearby restaurant; the faint perception of hunger birds and traffic rush silently by; muted by hearing loss, drowned by tinnitus’ ringing and snapping neon’s colors flash down the daytime street too far to read miniature pedestrian people peddle in the distance, dwarfed by utility poles and power lines perspectively from the hospital bed set up in his living room, he watches his open front door like tv amidst a clutter within arm’s reach
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Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
ANOTHER DAY
brush your hair comb the edge get rid of your blemishes upkeep things organize nyquil for the idle hands know you're wrong don't say so arguments are a lost cause snapback hat novelty time for the collection fee walmart brand can of worms guilty for the selfish hearse you're alright? yeah, i am throw it in a garbage can cellophane selling pain dip head in the ocean plain saline eyes retina sees iridescence in the trees shutter flash phosphenes lie LED painted sky thumb moves past impulse read why don't you stay in bed? travel blogs saved to note corkboard creaks, tilted down birdcage closed food poured in aluminum paper thin fields of wheat eyelash closed only at the tip of your nose dusk rolls in pavement hides suburbs in your alveoli inhale once exhale twice chew on tepid freezer ice
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Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 11:54 PM UTC
acetaminophen
Sometimes the person you fall for isn’t ready to catch you.
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May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
Entoptic Phosphenes.
I wished you stayed, I wish you stayed, I wish you stayed but you are made out of shooting stars and made to be loved from a distance I wished to feel you, I wished to feel you, I wished to feel you but you are made out of phosphenes and made to never be touched but drunkenly seen I wished you were mine, I wished you were mine, I wished you were mine but you are Equuleus, Pegasus, yearned after constellation, and made to be yours and yours alone I can't say bye, I can't say bye, I can't say bye for I am a creature of immense love, immense emotion, immense denial I am a galaxy, and I will love you until my stars burn out.
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Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
you are a blackhole
Staggering to my feet from the icy bathroom floor One hand raised to shield my swollen red eyes from the Blinding sunlight filtering through the dew-stained leaves of maple trees Another hand weakly grabbing onto the porcelain white sink When a sudden wave of gut-turning nausea caused my knees to buckle And the white room spun My vision peppered with phosphenes like holographic dust My skin drenched in cold sweat No longer sweet since the day you left me My blood’s a bitterness you can’t imagine
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Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 7:17 AM UTC
Low-Blood Sugar
phosphenes float in tired eyes memories orbiting by mind lavished in color our world isn't smaller
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Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 4:57 AM UTC
Cosmos
black and fuzzy and walking through a vivid nightmare of things moved around and skewed. rushing and a sharp zephyr that grazes your skin and rustles your hair. its incredible. there is bright light. burning my retinas and pushing on my brain. i walked around again last night. pulsing in the temples and sniffing e+++rs or whatever you call them now. the urge to binge boils in the pit of my stomach. infinite visions of infinite timelines of infinite versions of me and myself and everyone around me. my bougainvillea froze and slowly obliterated my memory. the page turns and the blur comes to wipe out the color from my eyes, shut now, fractals danced and the phosphenes came. then stuttering im coming out of it. what? is this? what is this? another shallow poem that considers itself? low art on the internet begging to go viral? an avant garde approach at a genre begging for something new? just a puff of smoke? the yellow is nice it takes the sterility of my surroundings the color of it all drained and depleted. at night I choose the sterility and let the colors sharpen and blast. the smell of earth. that dirt and wind smell from the rain and the loamy soil. the imagery and lucidity glows in the background. feeding on my periphery. come and whisper with me.
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Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
d r e a m i n' (II)