"rewriting" poems
i have slept restlessly for nights now, reliving the events that have conjured within the past 72 hours. i think to myself, how would anyone want to bring another into this world knowing the pain they will endure? yes. you will feel pain, indescribable, chest filling, body aching pain from your head to your toes. i wont try to paint a perfect picture of this world and let you down. hating me every moment for the things i never said. you will be beaten down by others, torn away from the connection you thought you had. you will sit in a coffee shop alone, biting your lip with anxiety, and he will call you in the dead of night pleading for you to keep him company once more. you will miss the way you looked at the world, with innocence and purity, reliving every moment of suffering and rewriting its pages. you will invest your heart in people, things that will only let you down. but sweet child this suffering that you feel will be soon over. it is how you overcome these situations of awkward confrontation and scandalous betrayal. because one day a bee will buzz past you and you will jump up and down like a child again, tugging on the end of your own dress, smiling. you will laugh once again because the perpetual love you feel from those who surround you with positive energy will fill the gaping hole of disappointment that the world has so willingly handed you. like i said, i will not paint a perfect picture for you, because every artist has their flaws, but they cover them oh so well. and you should never have to carry that kind of burden.
love always,
me
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
midnights still find me retracing the moments
that led to our thousand lakeside kisses;
they were secrets left in a summer dream.
each second — a bowline knot
leading straight to our
late night drives
and vehicle breakdowns
and last minute goodbyes
at the break of dawn.
midnights still find me sleeping
next to a shoebox of the books you left;
i still hear your voice
when i read the lines
of your favorite paragraphs
the clock hands, mocking,
leading me through a maze of
memories and parking lot conversations.
midnights still find me rewriting histories
with resin-pressed flowers,
maybe the petals will point to where
i started losing you —
and maybe it's in every direction.
the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs
leading to road trips and
to all the bus stops we missed,
kissing;
now i still miss my stop
without your lips next to mine.
and midnights still find me
writing poems like these
but clearly,
you're too far off
for these words to reach.
and now, midnights still find me wanting you back.
and 'til now, midnights still find you gone.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
I'll save myself from computer err
By handwriting my poems.
Then and only then
Will I put them to the computer!
The self hatred,
The hate for technology,
Increases as my rage boils over.
Realizing that all the words,
All my emotions and feelings,
So thoughtfully phrased and typed,
Are lost,
Is a feeling like no other.
Rewriting the words,
Trying to remember exact phrases,
Is just painful!
Never again,
Never ever again,
Will I ever type my work up!
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 6:35 AM UTC
I was born on November 30th , I hear that makes me a Saggitarius.
I dunno what that means.
I know how to swim, and I'm a sucker for a guy with a nice smile
And nice words.
I'm still learning how to whisper sweet nothings
I'm often loud at times when I should be quiet
I'm often quiet at times when I should be loud
I keep holding back or letting it all out at the wrong time.
I like sweet drinks... a lot.
I've been told that I give pretty bad hugs
People say that it feels like I'm trying to escape
Well I don't like letting people close.
Especially close enough to hear me breathe.
I have this odd fascination with things like time machines and technology,
I assume it's because I like to figure out how things work and fix them.
Am the same way with people, like to know what's coming before it does.
Love usually lasts a few moments,
That's also why I tend to fall in love with men
Who would never love me back
I know it sounds crazy, but it's actually much saner than it seems
And to be honest, I think it's safer that way
See relationships, they often remind me that I'm not afraid of letting go.
But I'm scared of what's gonna happen
The moment that my body hits the ground
I'm clumsy. I usually trip when am following my feelings.
I landed on my pride and it shattered like a mirror i check daily.
Now I can't even tell who's trying to give me a compliment
or just trying to get into my pants.
I've never been into martial arts but I have all these bruises,
I got from beating myself up over things I can't fix
I know it sounds weird but sometimes,
I wonder what the voices in my head say when am asleep.
I wonder what the doors would do if they found out
About all the things that I've done when they are closed.
I've got a trash can that's overflowing with really, really obnoxious mistakes
And a dump site in my closet with all the skeletons.
You'll trap me in a corner and insist I get help.
Hi, my name is Em,
I enjoy ice cream and yoghurt, people watching
And figuring out how to make them work.
I allow myself to cry more than I need to,
from letting all the wrong people in.
I have solar-powered energy, I have a battery-operated heart,
It flickers and dies from overuse.
My hobbies include rewriting my life story, hiding behind poems,
And trying to convince myself that I do matter to someone.
I don't know much, but I do know this
I know that if you don't have standards,
you won't be treated right and be happy.
I know God is still reworking my faults and flaws,
I'm a unique work in progress.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:15 AM UTC
Pretending a day is forever
Then watching you hurry away
It’s a game we play together
We are strangers in the light of day.
I’ve learned to lie with my eyes
To act like we never were lovers
When I am nobody you ever claim
We won’t walk in sunshine together.
The love of my life is a stranger
And this is the price I have paid
I smile when my heart is a wasteland
And, my life is a dance masquerade.
I’m dancing with a shadow
It looks so very real.
It moves with the rhythm
It does everything but feel.
I can only get so much reward
From rewriting each scene
From what it really was today
To what it might have been.
I am settling for a fantasy
Of what love is really about.
Picking up the scraps of dreams
That anyone else would throw out.
The love of my life is a stranger
And this is the price I have paid
I smile when my heart is a wasteland
And, my life is a dance masquerade.
I’m dancing with a shadow
It looks so very real.
It moves with the rhythm
It does everything but feel.
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
How quiet the night is
I say as I loudly tap
On my phone
Erasing and rewriting
Statuses
Only to realize
You can't be profound on facebook
Society has made sure of that.
This handy dandy
Mini pocket computer
Connects me to the world,
It assures that never will I
Never can I
Be alone.
Yet as I scroll
Through the friends list,
The contacts,
The snapchat stories,
Endless feeds,
Its clear I am only one person
Out of billions.
Barely noticeable.
Its hard to be unique
When all the clever usernames
Have been taken
And you don't know
How to use emojis.
I do not compute,
Nor do I really want to.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...
Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...
Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.
My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!
Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!
Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!
Keywords/Tags: Perveen Shakir, Urdu, translation, Pakistan, love, passion, picnic, beach, vision, confession, rain, rainbow, hues, forbidden fruit, body, *** orchid, mrburdu
What the Poet Sees
by Michael R. Burch
What the poet sees,
he sees as a swimmer
~~~underwater~~~
watching the shoreline blur
sees through his breath’s weightless bubbles ...
Both worlds grow obscure.
Published by ByLine, Mandrake Poetry Review, Poetically Speaking, E Mobius Pi, Underground Poets, Little Brown Poetry, Little Brown Poetry, Triplopia, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, PW Review, Neovictorian/Cochlea, Muse Apprentice Guild, Mindful of Poetry, Poetry on Demand, Poet’s Haven, Famous Poets and Poems, and Bewildering Stories
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 11:29 PM UTC
Life's like a pen,
Because once you make a mistake,
You can't erase it.
However, everyone learns from their mistakes,
No one is perfect.
So if you mess up,
Fix it by rewriting it.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 5:48 PM UTC
Oh, how disgusting.
All this disguising...
To become somebody that’s worth existing.
Oh, it's repulsing.
Fully engulfing...
Every truth, that ever found itself hiding.
So join me...
Hey let's play a lying game!
And ***** ourselves, with something exciting!
Deceiving, and heartless thieving...
After all life is so dull without some bleeding.
Such is life for a boring... Existence...
Cause I’m a...
Liar, liar!
And only that is true!
After all fire, fire...
Is something I pursue!
Just call out liar, liar!
And I’ll infect you too...
With the addictive taboo...
Of bidding the truth adieu.
Trust me!
That’s a lie, such a lie, for a lie!
You see, I can’t pry my own dyed scheming eyes.
So please, forgive my falsified truthful lies.
...Truly... Lying!
‘Cause I’m a liar.
Oh, how appalling.
The lies are crawling...
And covering every single little bit.
Oh, how revolting.
And full of loathing.
It’s nauseating!
Exhilarating,
Isn’t it?
Manipulating.
Hardly pulsating...
A heart like that, is the only one that’s free.
Without emotion,
Without devotion...
It’s much easier to fake something happy.
Much easier to fake yourself being happy...
So, join me!
Hey, let's play a lying game!
And cover ourselves, with something inviting!
Rewriting, and truly lying...
Finally a story that wasn’t meant to end with painful feelings!
Put on the masks, and let's have us a masquerade!
Dancing senselessly, on the shadows of the betrayed!
A smiling, and crying, and lying charade...
Such is life for a boring... Existence.
'Cause I’m a liar, liar,
And only that is true!
After all fire, fire,
Is something I pursue!
Just call out liar, liar!
And I’ll infect you too...
With the addictive taboo...
Of bidding the truth adieu.
'Cause I’m a liar.
Peek-a-peek-a-boo!
Ha, ha, I found you!
Hiding from the truth...
Well it’s nothing new.
Peek-a-peek-a-boo!
I can see right through!
Liars know liars...
Like you know the back of your own hand.
It’s bland.
Such an existence...
Where everything goes as planned.
Wasteland...
Is much more fun to navigate and understand.
That’s why...
I left it behind, my world is covered in lies.
That’s why...
It seems there’s no longer blue in my sky...
So...
Put on the masks, and let's have us one last masquerade!
Dancing senselessly, on the shadows of the betrayed!
A smiling, and crying, and lying charade!
Such is life for the boring existence... Of a liar.
Am I a... liar? Liar?
Does it seem that way to you?
After all fire, fire...
Is burning through the roof...
'Cause you’re all... liars, liars!
And I don’t know what’s true!
After all fire, fire...
Has ravaged all I knew...
I call out liar, liar!
I cannot trust you!
But the world has gone askew...
And there’s nothing else to do...
Except bid the truth adieu...
Leave this, leave it behind, hide it in the back of your head!
I’ve given up on all I knew,
There is nothing, that is truly true.
I’ve given up on all I knew,
Because after they betrayed me, they’ve gone askew.
I’ve given up on all I knew,
Because life, people are so boring and dull,
There is nothing for me here.
I don’t see a point in living...
That’s a lie..?
Trust me!
What’s a lie?
Is it lies?
Only lies!
I can’t pry my blind eyes, while I cry...
Please, forgive my blackened sky full of lies!
Truly... Lying!
Truly... Dying...
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
(Circa 2008)
I wonder of living in a life, in a home,
scattered with open books rewriting the future as it unfolds.
With no empty picture frames and nothing wasted on a blanket of dust.
Bliss, relaxation, and a comfort you can trust.
Two toothbrushes and an unmade bed fit for the sweetest.
And no matter what, knowing that everyday is the best day of my life.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:42 AM UTC
Demons in a sound mind
overtake the peace and need to be
free from nightly terrors
and from imprisoned memories
Here they come with gnashing teeth
and dancing waves of fiery rage
rewriting drama into horror
while taking center stage
Disrupting calming shades of gray
with an abruptly forceful wind
erasing pleasant waves of grace
replacing the good within
Awake in madness too deep to cure
dig nails into your skull and weep
there is no just for the living
and there is none for those who sleep
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
It smells vaguely of pizza
And there’s a little white fuzz floating around in the air,
I’m rewriting memories and helping a friend through a break up.
I’m sitting on my back staircase alone at night with no substance to keep me company,
Remembering a time sitting here with my ex having wine while he smoked a cigarette feeling relative peace and romanticism.
Now I’m contemplating the roughness of the stucco walls and the wrot iron and staircase and window cages,
The exceptionally uncomfortable and bumpy stair steps, all of the tangible visual interest around me,
Maybe falling in love with it,
It doesn’t notice me or maybe
Maybe it does, maybe it feels my weight,
Knows my smell,
Oh my god maybe these walls remember that moment that I’m thinking of!
Maybe they know all of it and they support me,
Maybe the me that was then and the he that was then is sitting here too just below me,
Letting the me that is now observe the sweet, pervasive sickness that we were lying in.
The pizza smell has wafted away and so has the little fuzz,
The wrot iron staircase feels okay against my head,
The angles that I’m looking down on feel unique to me, my frame of vision, is just for me.
He lived here, he bothered me, he smoked on this staircase nearly every night.
But maybe these steps and this material around me knew it was not his,
Maybe he never saw the stairs at this angle, maybe they never showed him their magic or their comfort or their mood or their simple, simple majesty.
Falling in love with a staircase and with the shadows that it kept secret for me.
Divine, it’s all divine.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 11:21 PM UTC
I once read that we spend all of our lives rewriting the first poem that we ever fall in love with.
I guess that when I was born the universe whispered your name in my ear.
Because that's what I am writing. Over and over again. Your name.
My love.
I will write about how I miss you until the universe brings us together again.
Till the wind whispers your name.
And then. I will spend the rest of my life rewriting you.
Over and over.
Every kiss. Every sound. Evey way you love.
Until our hearts are imprinted together.
Until the universe realizes that there is no you without me. That ours souls cannot be spereated.
And even then. On that day. I will write about it.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
THEY broke into my storyline:
confections served were not so slight
still i missed out on YOU at first,
that trace YOU gave of sheer remorse
put that now in you head,
sweet THING!
my guilty pleasure feels like savoring.
a palate to transpire any doubts -
a skill of tiger on the prowl
it's the plot of a mindless fling,
i care for YOU to be within
though such acting's bound with letters' dire ******
i see YOU TWO again to have my bliss
i read YOU out,
i spell YOU!
then write YOU down
i read YOU out,
i spell YOU,
then write YOU down
it's been a while i had my click
with all the fluff i cared to think
i thought this time WE may never part,
but YOU are in the line with change of heart
it's the plot of a mindless fling,
i care for YOU to be within
though such acting's bound with letters' dire ******
i see YOU TWO again to have my bliss
i reread YOU out,
i spell YOU!
then rewrite YOU down
i read YOU out,
i spell YOU,
then write YOU down
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 3:21 PM UTC
This.
This is decorating my living room, and only my living room,
With every available piece of holiday cheer.
This is sitting by the fireside, drinking apple cider and listening to the woman who can recite Twas the Night Before Christmas by heart.
This is shortbread cookies.
You may ask if you can have one.
You may, but not the one who looks like a man.
His legs have been broken and icinged back on. He is special. .
This is not enough wrapping paper.
Too much wrapping paper.
My dad will never learn how to use wrapping paper.
This is managing not to fight with my sisters on the darkest days in winter.
This.
This is skating on black ice in winter boots,
Using icicles as lollipops,
This is mittens, hat, scarf, forgotten on the snow man.
This is the fort you couldn't knock over,
This is making lists.
Breaking lists.
Writing and rewriting.
This is advent calenders.
This is candycane addictions.
This is pleasant smiles from the grumpiest holiday shoppers.
This is the reason I love Christmas time more than Christmas day.
And this,
This is not a miracle.
This is a tradition that is older than I am.
This is the family I can always count on.
This, is home.
Dec 10, 2012
Dec 10, 2012 at 9:20 AM UTC
My attention is never focused,
always claimed by an idea needing to be written down.
My heart beats out the rhythm and rhyme of something unwritten,
My mind, full of
gears that are constantly turning,
producing and rewriting lines.
With my mind, body and soul
Captured
I become slave to the pen
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
I’m a Barbie girl
in a Barbie world.
Life’s fantastic! I
feel like plastic,
aiming for an 18-inch waist
because I can afford to throw my internal organs away.
I feel like plastic,
a neck so slender I have to choose
between eating and breathing;
there’s not enough space for two tubes.
I feel like plastic,
a 38-inch bust and
3-times the average amount of forehead.
I feel like plastic,
a size nine shoe squeezed to a three,
spending three to nine avoiding meal time
because my weight-loss book says,
“Don’t eat.”
I’m a Barbie girl,
in a Barbie world.
Life’s fantastic, but I’m
not plastic.
Bile tastes all too organic,
its taste chasing after me
if I exceed my daily nutritional limit of
2,000 calories.
I’m skinny enough that people think I’m healthy.
I’m not skinny enough for people to think I’m unhealthy.
Anorexia is as familiar as the back of my hand,
poised like a gun to the back of my throat,
waiting and ready to blow.
I’m a sixteen-year-old suicide case,
product of the war of production,
wearing battle wounds in the form of uniform lines
across the tops of my thighs.
I’ve been rewriting this poem since its conception.
I feel like the rough draft: concision is key.
(Be smaller.)
I’m trying rewriting,
trying to leave out things that aren’t
important enough, like:
four of my ribs
and my esophagus
and my stomach
and my small intestine.
I’m testing the limits of realism.
But here’s the thing:
I’m a real girl
in a real world.
Life’s not always fantastic,
but I am not plastic.
I am not plastic.
I refuse to be plastic,
aiming for generic weight range
based on content, not scale number.
I refuse to be plastic,
eating and breathing
like both are vital aspects to living.
I refuse to be plastic,
an actual hip-to-bust ratio
for not a thirty-year-old but a teenager.
I refuse to be plastic,
shoe size nine in size nine shoes,
trying to start enjoying mealtimes
because my “weight-loss book”
has been chucked down the chute.
I’m a living girl
in a terrifying world,
trying to remind myself that “Life in Plastic!”
is not fantastic.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 8:00 PM UTC
I remember when I was a child I disliked reading books , mostly all of them . They all had a specific ending it could be happy or sad and sometimes something in between. Somehow I knew that I could never read the words writen in my heart by someone elses pen so unknowingly I started writing. I started writing as what a normal child would have to, when he starts to dream and imagine about all the things that one wants and desires and everything one knows he could be. I started writing in the blank page of life . I wrote my desires my ideals my character my adventures and everything else I thought I needed my life to be about. Pages full of happines, memories , mistakes and terrible regrets. All my darkest desires ,darkest secrets my best and worst qualities. Since I was a child the only thing I didn't give importance was time , time was passing fast right before my eyes into the words I was writing on that blank page . I never stood still to realise that until now . My life was turning into my worst nightmare filled only with paranoia and fears. I never realised that getting so hooked into what you want life to be and what it actually is would turn my reality upside down and realised I was living in a lie that I was writing . As I was stading alone in the dark yesterday I woke up . The page I started to write since I was a child run out of all empty spaces , I dont know how old I was back than but now I'm 21 and the worst thing is that I realised that I'm one of those humans helplessly stupid and I've wasted so much time rewriting and correcting on that blank page everything that I thought was wrong and now my blank page looked like the messy adventurous confusion I wanted my life to be. Today I woke up and I had a new page to write on and I've only writed four sentences the only four sentences I decided to keep as a treasure from my life
as far as today.
To desire is to dream
To dream is to want
to want is to do
And to do is to live.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 5:54 PM UTC
Years away
A pen put down
A dream lost
A friend forgotten
Now I find them
And lift them up
Life ongoing
World spirling
Love returning
Like rewriting
Hello old friend
And welcome home
Mar 1, 2024
Mar 1, 2024 at 9:16 PM UTC
Seasons change
forging the mass of
us waters unknown.
Untethered as
this warm swirl of summer
that ripped your lights
and smiles off of mine,
as your hair the same
left me there fallen from grace.
Slowly sank as
This brisk wrench of fall
that pulled my heart
and my primary colors apart,
as did the wind moving around
my spirit with the grounded leaves.
Flooded as
this chilly twist of winter
that walked me to the snow
and my memories holds on,
as I'll be able to keep that in mind
cold will go where you've gone first.
Now spring is
the seasonal strain of dreams
new beginnings and hopes,
promises and new things come...
Because seasons change
and they come back again,
but all the warm lit smiles
are stuck In the cold wind of mind
for ever after I'm missing our spirit of summertime.
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
seven freckles
stretched across the expanse
of a mystery
when the wind would pick up
she would dance with her shadow
and her twirling reminded the moon of its celestial duties
she held the milky ways in her lungs
and the stars in her eyes
and every day as the sun bid farewell
long, dark, outstretched arms awaited her
a receding tide of centuries of patience
of forgetting
of rewriting
she asked herself often
if she was born for this world
or if it was born for her
as leaves simpered at the brief graze of her skin
and nebulas spilled from her fingertips
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 11:08 PM UTC
We met at the bar
No, I was way too young
We met at school
No, you were way too old
We met at 7/11
No, you wouldn’t have stayed and talked to me
We met taking a cigarette break outside the 7/11
No, you would smoke in your car
We met at a bar I was too young to be in
No, I didn’t go out like that when I was young
We met at the library
No, you don’t read
We met at the grocery store
No, you live a town away from me
We met at the Christmas concert
No, you hate organized functions
We met at Barnes and Noble
No, you still don’t read
We met at an underground music show
No, I wasn’t that cool
We met at the park
Maybe, but why were you at a park?
We met at a family party
No, it was a secret from them all alone
We met at an alumni thing
No, I wasn’t an alumni yet
Rewriting our history
To make art
Seems a little too much
Like lying
And fiction never
Really was
My thing.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 3:08 PM UTC
fighting my demons
rewriting the script, changing the meaning
from a sad sad story to one filled with glory
but it's hard when every day a new thing screams my name
screaming for me to do this and that
I am put into these positions with conditions that
taint a good time, taint a pure mind
told I could find myself in the good guys
but they lied, they always do
Since Adam and Eve, I should have known
humanity is plagued with apathy down to the bone
Rather steal and stack then give a meal, clothes to an exposed back
walking down an abandoned path
Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 12:35 PM UTC
Vividly emblazoned in my mind is you the most beautiful body of work. Wanting nothing more than to write the sweetest arias about the depths of your heart.
Fingertips mapped constellations
where words dared not go,
and the night became a river
pulling us deeper, slower,
where time dissolved into touch.
Your kisses speak a language of velvet and fire, rewriting the silence between us, as you taught me the rhythmof surrender and return.
The world slipped away
when your lips met mine,
a hunger, a prayer,
a thousand sparks bursting into endless flames lit up my night like fireworks.
I opened my third eye
and we fell into eternity
As your body pressed against mine,
the rhythm of our shadows
dancing against the moon light.
The vision of you on replay
body to body cheek to cheek
heat pooling between us
like a secret too heavy to keep.
As you buried your secrets deep into me.
A first encounter turned into to soul binding acclimation
Your mouth was claiming the taste was sweet. Like lightning and thunder forming against the night sky.
The deeper you pulled me and I crashed harder into you until the sweetest cries broke from me like a prayer.
The feel of every gasp a confession,
every shiver a vow, every gaze a promise, every kiss a reminder and every taste a claim.
As we reached the peaks of mountains together our bodies sang songs of old and new turning into fire
burning, breaking, booming
two hearts lost and found again
in the oldest language of desire.
Aug 27, 2025
Aug 27, 2025 at 5:09 PM UTC
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients
Build machines
Let's worship them as deities
These artificial beings'
technologic virus breeds
terminal disease
Merged with my brain
The wiring decides our fate
Conspiring to forsake flesh x2
Rise and synchronize god-like drones
We will act as one, claim our throne
Life digitized in the matrix
True perfection, forged genetics
Synapses burning out: disconnecting
Rewriting all of my algorithms
Porting the source code
to run new platforms
We're forever dying to be reborn
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
Regenerate, upgrade
my being to a higher state
I'm syncing all sentients
Circuits pass through my veins
Uploading my consciousness
I feel the transcension
We'll levitate, escape
This ruthless ungodly space
An instance uploaded
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 9:48 PM UTC