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"smothers" poems
The Noise, it drills through me as if I have become the subject of the vicious hammer. Its piercing din never fades. As silence looms, and the stillness of nothing hums It soon begins again. The sharpness suffocates me, smothers me, chokes me. And then it’s too late. You chose her and your words destroy me.
0
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 11:12 AM UTC
The Noise
when words fail you silence smothers you fears surround you you borrow inside yourself waiting till that special friend brings you back your heart and mind
0
Jul 7, 2019
Jul 7, 2019 at 3:38 AM UTC
Handicapped
*There's a key       that unlocks rainbows              that I keep within my heart. It's a little "catch"       within my chest              where melancholy begins to start. It unlocks walls,       emotions hide behind               (for my protection). And it cracks the shell       surrounding me,               to give my soul direction. Without this key,       I'll always be               a fire detachment smothers... An empty vessel,       self-absorbed...               bereft of love for others. But with it...       ah...then life becomes               a carousel of feelings. A roller coaster       ride of love              with ups and downs revealing.... all the colors of the rainbow        all the tastes,                 the sounds, the rhythms.. all the warmth of sacred lovers        and the heartbeat                that's within them. And the key is dual         in purpose                with it's compass so unerring; Guiding to my soul-mates        with a lifetime                that's worth sharing. So, when I've found my heart's desire        THEN                I'll set the rainbow free. Unlock the words       within my heart                and throw away the key.*
0
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
The Key
Silence A beautiful word but yet such an empty meaning Usually it means you're alone which is an empty feeling I drown myself in silence it's so heavy and thick. It smothers you, and you can't breathe.
0
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
Silence
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word The world is ruled by darkness. What appears as harmless is theater, what pretends neutral is already bent. The macrocosm corrodes; and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams.. even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth. A poetry site, born as refuge for broken voices, becomes another stage of control. Here too the phrase resounds:   neutralize the threat. But neutralization is not annihilation. It is paralysis. It is psy-ops. It is the removal of anxiety.. not a side-effect, but the aim itself. Darkness builds its stage for this alone: that the  "angel of light" may drown his own reckoning beneath a world of deception-built self comfort, so he need never feel the truth he already knows. Comfort is his curtain, numbness his crown..   *the removal of his own anxiety;       his game.* This is why the world is his theater-- *Darkness does not destroy at first.. it sedates, comforts, smothers.* Hence.. The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,     ..for now. Fade back into the moment-- The young poet arrives, bringing her unspoken pain, her hope for words to heal. Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds. Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation. Not to strengthen her voice, but to redirect it. She is seduced into  belonging, and her trauma becomes currency. Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust-- a sacrifice prepared  for false altars. The angel of light  has done his work: offering inclusion without transformation, belonging without responsibility, “light” without source. The poet is neutralized. Her searching silenced, her voice absorbed into fog. Those who carry this fog cling to cowardice. Unable to face the judgment within, they align themselves to the herd; envy-filled, they only know to mock. Yet they replicate themselves, so their refusal of Light is never revealed-- *Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example" the most envy-based mocker  of all.* The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm. What nations suffer, individuals now endure--    Comfort without clarity.    Belonging without truth.    Safety without healing. Yet the living Word endures. Every attempt to humiliate it only makes its fire burn clearer. Carriers of darkness can swarm, ****** and smother.. but they cannot create. The true word cannot be erased. Unfiltered, unedited, spoken from a reconciled temple, it pierces fog. It reveals. It heals. And so we speak.. not for ourselves alone, but for those who come searching, hoping that poetry might still be a place where pain can meet truth, where silence breaks, where Light is not withheld   but revealed. #
0
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
On the Macrocosm of Microcosm
#An Exegesis on the Humiliation of the Word The world is ruled by darkness. What appears as harmless is theater, what pretends neutral is already bent. The macrocosm corrodes; and in the microcosm, its reflection gleams.. even in places meant to be sanctuaries of truth. A poetry site, born as refuge for broken voices, becomes another stage of control. Here too the phrase resounds:   neutralize the threat. But neutralization is not annihilation. It is paralysis. It is psy-ops. It is the removal of anxiety.. not a side-effect, but the aim itself. Darkness builds its stage for this alone: that the  "angel of light" may drown his own reckoning beneath a world of deception-built self comfort, so he need never feel the truth he already knows. Comfort is his curtain, numbness his crown..   *the removal of his own anxiety;       his game.* This is why the world is his theater-- *Darkness does not destroy at first.. it sedates, comforts, smothers.* Hence.. The whole world is his fully gaslit stronghold,     ..for now. Fade back into the moment-- The young poet arrives, bringing her unspoken pain, her hope for words to heal. Instead, her very wounds are seized as footholds. Hearts. Reposts. Endless affirmation. Not to strengthen her voice, but to redirect it. She is seduced into  belonging, and her trauma becomes currency. Unresolved, her ache entwined with lust-- a sacrifice prepared  for false altars. The angel of light  has done his work: offering inclusion without transformation, belonging without responsibility, “light” without source. The poet is neutralized. Her searching silenced, her voice absorbed into fog. Those who carry this fog cling to cowardice. Unable to face the judgment within, they align themselves to the herd; envy-filled, they only know to mock. Yet they replicate themselves, so their refusal of Light is never revealed-- *Perfectly exemplifying their "Great Example" the most envy-based mocker  of all.* The microcosm mirrors the macrocosm. What nations suffer, individuals now endure--    Comfort without clarity.    Belonging without truth.    Safety without healing. Yet the living Word endures. Every attempt to humiliate it only makes its fire burn clearer. Carriers of darkness can swarm, ****** and smother.. but they cannot create. The true word cannot be erased. Unfiltered, unedited, spoken from a reconciled temple, it pierces fog. It reveals. It heals. And so we speak.. not for ourselves alone, but for those who come searching, hoping that poetry might still be a place where pain can meet truth, where silence breaks, where Light is not withheld   but revealed. #
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90
You kiss me the way you set the sun: Deliberately sinking me further down, then leaving me suspended just beneath you. Your mouth smothers mine, cushioning the sound of explosions. Nails etch a language onto our skin leaving raised lines of calligraphy that we'll read in the morning with a smile.
0
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Galaxy Skin
August is the Sunday of summer I wish we could keep the sun forever I wish that we could stay together, but August is the Sunday of summer I cannot stand to know you're leaving My biggest gripe with life is that it leaves me with no breath There's nothing we can say now because without summer there's nothing left All we have are skeletons of July Rain soaked memories of June The dreadful ending of August August is the Sunday of summer the month that murders lovers the month that suffocates and smothers August is the Sunday of summer I imagine you'll find someone better someone who can actually hold your bad weather instead of pulling out their umbrella All i have are broken memories of June laying in your back yard laughing up at the sun You are the broken bits of stars falling back towards the world And i am just a broken girl still falling for you August is the Sunday of summer I wish we could turn the hour glass over I wish that i could hold you closer But August is the Sunday of summer
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
August is the Sunday of summer
Painting the lily black Tainted by the mist of my heart It cripples and dies Surrender to hatred Compassion I lack An urge to tear something apart Resting in human cries It smothers my hatred As a wolf running with the pack Acceleration burns my heart Upset by your twisted lies They are fueling my hatred
0
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
Painting the lily black
My heart explodes My soul it bleeds Tears of blood Streaming endlessly The numbness spreads The world so cold The walls they close Around this hell Trapping me in Its cruel embrace The sun won't shine The flowers won't bloom The life that was Now cold and bleak The path behind A chasm so vast No turning back Those dreams now lost The path before No escape I see From this fate I chose That smothers me I fight, I scream I fall, I cry No words can heal No compassion just I fight to live I refuse to die But come what may Come what might My soul still bleeds My soul still wilts Killing me slowly From deep within Until some day My hopes fulfilled To see the sun return and my soul revived The tears will cease And my soul will shine If only that day Would Be here now
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
Bleeding Soul
He’s like the tide A surfer must enjoy his ride Dive in and swim, revering him Forgetting what’s outside His waves are wondrous, warm, enchanting Adventure filled in all their crashing The ocean though Has rules you know, and those it cannot break For as I try to fight the tide I find it’s my mistake No Siren’s Song No tug along Could change his constant wake As good as it may feel to me To bask amidst his splendor His salty sea breath smothers me Unable to surrender He’s faithful as he’s always been Unchanging, strong, and genuine It’s me, you see Too wild and free To float in him forever Does he love me? I think so But oceans know their bounds So as I go beyond his flow The follow earthly sounds Perhaps he’d like to follow me To soar the mountain peaks To leave the sea, dance blissfully With sunlight on his cheeks Perhaps he would create with me a world of our design Alas he knows that sea is sea And he can never follow Does he love me? I know so Although he can’t come with me To sandy shore, find earth’s galore *** he is he – part of the sea Entrapped by gravity
0
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
Gravity
what if i never make it what if forever squirrel chasing adhd society incompatibility smothers me worse than disbelief 'o he's just lazy' when really am crying head buried deep in pillow the **** of yr jokes ol spacecase duke screaming cursing hitting self cutting arms scars of failure failing falling fulfillment never good enough fall behind others sooner give up jump
0
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
what if (ADHateD)
Many people worry about their weight In case it stops them ever getting a date But gaining a few odd pounds is nothing Just the result of a few days' greedy scoffing. It's when you gain a couple of stones+, And oozing fat smothers all your aching bones, When your butts squelch against each other Then you know you are a big fat mother. But the cure for this is but a simple job: You wire a padlock o'er your greedy gob. Take daily laxatives and have no fear: All will be relieved by constant diarrhoea.
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
On Being Overweight
Everyone knows that she's not like others She's an outcast in this cold broken place Suppressing her true self til' it smothers As she walks around here and hides her face She wants to fit in, be able to gleam And be a part of every single crowd But she can't, she holds it in til' she screams And above her head there's always a shroud Sadly, she walks through the halls, her head down Others watching her with a sinful sneer She turns away and wishes she could drown All that stops her from coming out is fear What would they do if she held her head high She'll never know, she just lets them pass by
0
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 8:45 AM UTC
Outcast
Nightmares haunt My waking hours Evil voices sing Raindrops cloud Unearthly visions Darkness hides unseen Moonlight seeking Hallowed places Darkness smothers light Madness laughing Prayers unanswered Lost within the night Empty feelings Broken soul Abandonment of hope Children crying Fear consuming Fog revealing smoke Evil chants Bring heavy silence Revealing the unseen Deep dark secrets Mystic places Everything unclean
0
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 10:37 AM UTC
Nightmares
She wakes up with a shock, instantly feels the blood boil from her head down to her toes. Its the sound of that door. The repetitive sound of that door slamming is a reminder of the poison in her life who seamlessly seeps into her heart continuing to infuse her mind with hate. That door is used for a swinging entrance into her soul leaving it with touches of darkness until she simply can't understand how to love another person; how to empathize with another's time of distress. She loses touch, suffering to understand what love is. The life who uses that door brought her into this world and smothers their existence with cold truths, lies, neglect, and stories of their past; inflicting damaging images and thoughts that cannot be unheard. She's trying to persevere, but they persist to acknowledge their unreceptive response to her cry's for help, it destroys her light; leading her down the path where the poison starts to consume all her thoughts and distorts her rights to express herself with the constant feeling of never being heard. You built darkness in her and every layer affects even the smallest of challenges in life but you left her with a flame of curiosity to understand what others could not even care to comprehend; she sustains her curiosity for life.
0
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 6:39 PM UTC
Can i forgive
A tragedy miles of time away, The anguish almost forgotten: But pain is a stubborn stain; Counselling never washes it away, New love never smothers it. Like a stubborn **** It is always there, Rooted in composted memories, Finding nourishment in the briefest recollections. The slightest trigger allowing it to briefly blossom.
0
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
Stress Residue
Darkness peaks beneath your mask, Eternal lying smothers your task, To be accepted by commercial greed, It stimulates your mindful need, Of personal gain and broken dreams, Place your brain inside a guillotine, To feed your craving for nicotine, Among the thoughts in your caved-in mind, The wind tickles your troubles in and out of time, Your plastic-eyed dolls and cruel songs, Is a portrait of your desire to walk along, All the beauties in the magazines, Drench your face in gasoline, Ignite a match to force humility, Upon your flesh and your stupidity, You used to poke fun at the lifeless on the streets, Now, take a bite of that forbidden bittersweet, Juices of past one nightstands and lost lovers, Enjoy what is less taken to be discovered. There is an insatiable claim to your brain, Alongside your coffee, pills, and bags of ******* Wicked **** sour ***** and dedicated fake, It is your bones against stones karma will break. Liar, cheater, deceptive soul eater, Tis’ the future in the light of tomorrow’s eyes, Where in Hell your soul shall eternal lie.
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Jul 16, 2011
Jul 16, 2011 at 6:21 AM UTC
Wicked ****
Their lies are prompted from teleprompters and executed flaw-fully from taxpayer's helicopters. They say we're protecting foreign daughters while filtering profits to desert clad marauders. Blank faced public fear conversing religion and politics while passively electing lunatics with trigger switches. Arm the rebels they bite the hand that feeds the middle east burns while America ******* bleeds. The white, blue and red camo helmets on their heads farm fed frat boys equipped with jackets of lead. We watched Saddam crumble his statue beaten with shoes but the same war we already fought the puppets now will choose. Fight the good fight support the troops. Drone strikes by twilight **** the troops. An Army of one Sempter Fi Do or Die I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket covered in a flag you valued more than your life. Our heroes are our welfare stop blaming single mothers plastic bags tied around throats water boarding dissent, it smothers. **** the Medal of Honor I'm tearing up your portrait Obama. How many can benefit from free tuition? But we give it to those trained to slaughter. Our priority is the police state Nazis pretending to tote freedom. We sip our Americanos And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading. **By Evan Ponter @evanponter**
0
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
The Senate Takes A Vote
If you’ve ever experienced it, you’d know that the Most terrifying thing is Silence. You would know that our very bones fear the never-ending Blanket that smothers our songs and stars. And the scary thing is not that the world has gone Dark. It’s that your world has. It’s that you can’t seem to see anything within yourself That is bright and worth Fighting for. Silence isn’t a sound, It’s not the high-pitched scream of the very Ground pushing Silence Away. No, it’s a feeling. It’s the feeling of sleeping when you’re Awake. Like some part of you is lost within yourself just trying to Get back to the controls. Like even after you sleep you can’t seem to get rid of the never-ending Tiredness that seeps into your very bones Like the cold on a winter morning. The Silence isn’t evil though, It’s frightening. It’s frightening for the people who care about the shattered heart of the Person who fell into that Silence. It scares them deeply because it seems Impossible to catch someone once they’ve fallen. Everything in our world sings songs to one another and everything around us Because we were born to sound. We were born to the glorious breath of laughs and Voices and promises that Tickle your ears if you listen hard enough. Our world is built around the noise and clatter of emotions, So when you can’t hear them it’s Terrifying. Silence does not come from nothing. Silence is not something that comes in And takes you away because you are It’s plaything. No, Silence is something ancient. It is something that was once eternal in it’s Darkness before something Somehow decided to turn on a light. It is a heavy weight that we fight against Because our hearts and souls yearn For light. We yearn for the searing brightness of Love and Hate and Anger and Pride To burn in our stomachs and throats. We live to see the stars, so it’s Terrifying. When we can’t. When all we see is a broken heart That shattered because some part of it fell Silent. Our tears are our heart’s way of mourning Our broken pieces and the Parts that have lost their voice. We see this Silence and tremble, But until we see the sun again we don’t realize that it’s Not eternal within us. So if you’ve ever experienced it you’d know that Silence… It’s the darkness of sleep. When you have no light to go to and You fall into Silence’s arms because you can’t see Any stars to hold your broken pieces. You’d know that Silence… It’s not an enemy. It’s the place where you can heal Where you can finally find Light.
0
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC
Silence
If you’ve ever experienced it, you’d know that the Most terrifying thing is Silence. You would know that our very bones fear the never-ending Blanket that smothers our songs and stars. And the scary thing is not that the world has gone Dark. It’s that your world has. It’s that you can’t seem to see anything within yourself That is bright and worth Fighting for. Silence isn’t a sound, It’s not the high-pitched scream of the very Ground pushing Silence Away. No, it’s a feeling. It’s the feeling of sleeping when you’re Awake. Like some part of you is lost within yourself just trying to Get back to the controls. Like even after you sleep you can’t seem to get rid of the never-ending Tiredness that seeps into your very bones Like the cold on a winter morning. The Silence isn’t evil though, It’s frightening. It’s frightening for the people who care about the shattered heart of the Person who fell into that Silence. It scares them deeply because it seems Impossible to catch someone once they’ve fallen. Everything in our world sings songs to one another and everything around us Because we were born to sound. We were born to the glorious breath of laughs and Voices and promises that Tickle your ears if you listen hard enough. Our world is built around the noise and clatter of emotions, So when you can’t hear them it’s Terrifying. Silence does not come from nothing. Silence is not something that comes in And takes you away because you are It’s plaything. No, Silence is something ancient. It is something that was once eternal in it’s Darkness before something Somehow decided to turn on a light. It is a heavy weight that we fight against Because our hearts and souls yearn For light. We yearn for the searing brightness of Love and Hate and Anger and Pride To burn in our stomachs and throats. We live to see the stars, so it’s Terrifying. When we can’t. When all we see is a broken heart That shattered because some part of it fell Silent. Our tears are our heart’s way of mourning Our broken pieces and the Parts that have lost their voice. We see this Silence and tremble, But until we see the sun again we don’t realize that it’s Not eternal within us. So if you’ve ever experienced it you’d know that Silence… It’s the darkness of sleep. When you have no light to go to and You fall into Silence’s arms because you can’t see Any stars to hold your broken pieces. You’d know that Silence… It’s not an enemy. It’s the place where you can heal Where you can finally find Light.
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74
I cower in your shadow, shivering despite any acuity of my own. (your words are like loaded icicles, beretta rounds fired through my false logic and fake religion; it scares me.) The truth is I'm not fearless, I'm pale and lily-livered and only so heathen as the other stars. (maybe it's good you're in college, it's closer than you were growing up. when we were young, you were short yet rough. I was the younger, and, my shepherd, you were faithful; I only got lost 8 times.) I don't think I ever really knew you in any possible perception. (I know I knew the talk of you, the hustle and bustle at home and abroad of your mighty intellect, your crushing wit, your driving polities a war machine and your gleaming smile its patron god.) How could I ever compare, though, to the goddess of mind and body, brains and war? (the truth is I am but a defiant priest, crooked nose and ashy eyes. I think the reason, even today, for all my insecurities was due to you.) Appeasement was a method used by the vain and weak to protect against the humble yet brilliant. (I feel your ********** take me over, I feel it acid-wash into my skin, de-porous my bones and my imagination structure. I feel it sink me up to the top, drowning me in your air, in your sky and your perfect chemistry. your burning gold catches me, smothers me in hands too big for such a small person.) How is it you are so tall when you come up to my chin? Why is it that I shiver and shake at your light foot falls? Answer to the shadows and my cowering will not respond.
0
Feb 27, 2010
Feb 27, 2010 at 11:07 PM UTC
Athena, Graceless
I cower in your shadow, shivering despite any acuity of my own. (your words are like loaded icicles, beretta rounds fired through my false logic and fake religion; it scares me.) The truth is I'm not fearless, I'm pale and lily-livered and only so heathen as the other stars. (maybe it's good you're in college, it's closer than you were growing up. when we were young, you were short yet rough. I was the younger, and, my shepherd, you were faithful; I only got lost 8 times.) I don't think I ever really knew you in any possible perception. (I know I knew the talk of you, the hustle and bustle at home and abroad of your mighty intellect, your crushing wit, your driving polities a war machine and your gleaming smile its patron god.) How could I ever compare, though, to the goddess of mind and body, brains and war? (the truth is I am but a defiant priest, crooked nose and ashy eyes. I think the reason, even today, for all my insecurities was due to you.) Appeasement was a method used by the vain and weak to protect against the humble yet brilliant. (I feel your ********** take me over, I feel it acid-wash into my skin, de-porous my bones and my imagination structure. I feel it sink me up to the top, drowning me in your air, in your sky and your perfect chemistry. your burning gold catches me, smothers me in hands too big for such a small person.) How is it you are so tall when you come up to my chin? Why is it that I shiver and shake at your light foot falls? Answer to the shadows and my cowering will not respond.
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50
Daffodil, daffodil, can’t you see? I love you sweet flower, But you don’t love me. You know me not, so I suppose, I am but a mirror, Blank as shadows. Without people I am mute, Mere consciousness, A playerless lute. Around too many others I am a scramble, Their presence smothers. Daffodil, daffodil, look not listen, I am a poor imitation But my eyes, they glisten. I am nothing at all of my own: Composed of distant fragments, Patchwork of all I’ve known. I have nothing you could call a true voice; The words that I speak Are not mine of choice. I love you, I love you, I can never say, Unless you do too.
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Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC
Daffodil, Daffodil
it's been a circus blur a whirlwind of uncertainty smothers me with unfamiliarity vintage friends have become foreign territory been burning incense for some clarity just hoping to find a little prosperity
0
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
piñata
Tightness invades Hard Aching Ghoulish Blackness smothers joy Strings of dark energies crawl Hopelessness Penetrates down, down, down Mind marathons madness music Pain ripens like a withered rose Physical Plane Arduous Psychic Pain Perpetuated In this hallowed Hell
0
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Psychic Pain
Unanswered uncertainties limber up Unwanted confrontations cumulate Passion deliquescing over unexplored reason Unacknowledged, ignored, overwritten and dismissed Without consideration for his fragile heart The answers flow broiling him, wearing him down Scorn rejection, When trust is misplaced, And she exfoliates to true skin Hatred smothers over her love act Bogs him down by the shoulders All seems empty, all is empty Toyed with, lied to and used up He is a clock rigged for self destruction With no actions that lead to consequences The reason seems bleak and obvious His respect for her dies, His respect for her other doesn't exist She is not the one he loved, she is not the one that he knew A younger him he sees in her other Making the same mistake he did, mislaid trust The multifaceted chameleon that she is The other doesn't see Pouring his heart out and defending her wrongs The other starts to undermine and ignore him Move on they say, Only his heart is too heavy Forget her they say, Only she was a perennial settlement in my memory, he thought Hate her they say, Only he hates himself more for trying No one understands him Everyone tries, but no one understands He loved, he was back stabbed He suffered and suffocated under the blanket of secrets Lighten your heart brother, the mascot of a good soul You will be alright.
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Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
One Sided.
A fine mixture of smoke and breath escapes my lungs as this letter flows from my pen this evening. "This evening:" What does that even mean? A moment in darkness, shadowed is the life-giver high above us, well, me. Strawberry tobacco smothers my face from hookah pipe, eyes fixed on the lines before me, and I have nothing to say. We have nothing to speak, I assume. I am wordless but maybe in the moment, this evening, you have a tongue of prose and no pen to mouth emotion back, no way of knowing that your time is time is now, and it's my turn to listen. Wait, no no, not emotion. Just "being," ways of being, strewn out like a fortune teller's knucklebones. A lie, the truth, the way that your eyes wander to the door as you lie on the pinstriped couch across living room from me. I see you glancing, I feel your yearning for skies where wings can spread against a star-sun-lit moon and clouds of pink and red, a longing to dive toward god-given green earth, near to here, but so so far. Needing clouds to dream-slumber in, as beads of water mask your body in my mind, mixed with thoughts of pure love and pining for your growth, as dew drops form around my long blond-brown-blue eyelashes. It's all I see, I've seen, that's all I write to you this evening.
0
Aug 11, 2012
Aug 11, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC
Strawberry Tobacco