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"steeper" poems
Can you feel it Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift Soft Moonlight Dust Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ****** Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust So gentle, as a touch to the skin An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins Awareness of self stirring into the constellation Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait Overheated friction surrendering without debates Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn A Cheshire moonrise Always a sacred communion given in surprise Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full Paired upon, as lace meets wool Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool Stars In Exile Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke Relentless bodies bathing under the moon Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper Heat consumes the interior of the temple Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon Temperatures rising not a moment too soon June slamming into summer’s heat A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast The galaxy and its spicy passion A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
0
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
A Kiss Among The Milky Way
Can you feel it Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift Soft Moonlight Dust Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ****** Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust So gentle, as a touch to the skin An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins Awareness of self stirring into the constellation Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait Overheated friction surrendering without debates Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn A Cheshire moonrise Always a sacred communion given in surprise Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full Paired upon, as lace meets wool Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool Stars In Exile Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke Relentless bodies bathing under the moon Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper Heat consumes the interior of the temple Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon Temperatures rising not a moment too soon June slamming into summer’s heat A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast The galaxy and its spicy passion A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
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47
It's a stressful adolescence When younger generations Are met with steeper expectations I don't understand why adults always say It will only get worse When I say I'm overwhelmed
0
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Lie to Me
*What lies beyond the bend in the road? Behind the green pine trees, Capped with white snow?* I cannot know what lies ahead Until I reach the turn I fear the journey long though And my feet ache and burn. This road feels somehow steeper From when I walked it the last time Oh, everything is worse alone Without him by my side. He was a fearless traveller Whose words were always sweet. He said "a traveller is what I am, I've marched through cold and heat. I've swam through snow, I've run through rain, But no amount of travelling Can escape me from this pain. I long to see my loving wife, So gentle and so kind, But I fear I've left her alone Far too many times. I could not return home now Her love has long since left, And to see her with another man Would surely be my death". As that bend drew ever nearer, I knew soon we would part. So I struggled one last aching time To heal his lonely heart. I said "Why do you travel forever? Why not go home now? Her love is strong as ever, She forgives your wandering around." "There is no other man for her, There is only you. I beg you now come home. Start your life anew." He said "I am a weary traveller, I always long for home, But I cannot be still. Travelling is all I know." And though weary he was He kept walking with me. But he stopped at the bend At the edge of the trees, He said "I've seen you before, And I'll see you again. Please do not miss me, But don't forget me, Old Friend". That was many years ago, And I miss him still. That road is getting longer. I am getting ill. So I return to my empty house. Through my hair I run a comb. And I leave one light on - just in case - My weary traveller comes home
0
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
The Weary Traveller
*What lies beyond the bend in the road? Behind the green pine trees, Capped with white snow?* I cannot know what lies ahead Until I reach the turn I fear the journey long though And my feet ache and burn. This road feels somehow steeper From when I walked it the last time Oh, everything is worse alone Without him by my side. He was a fearless traveller Whose words were always sweet. He said "a traveller is what I am, I've marched through cold and heat. I've swam through snow, I've run through rain, But no amount of travelling Can escape me from this pain. I long to see my loving wife, So gentle and so kind, But I fear I've left her alone Far too many times. I could not return home now Her love has long since left, And to see her with another man Would surely be my death". As that bend drew ever nearer, I knew soon we would part. So I struggled one last aching time To heal his lonely heart. I said "Why do you travel forever? Why not go home now? Her love is strong as ever, She forgives your wandering around." "There is no other man for her, There is only you. I beg you now come home. Start your life anew." He said "I am a weary traveller, I always long for home, But I cannot be still. Travelling is all I know." And though weary he was He kept walking with me. But he stopped at the bend At the edge of the trees, He said "I've seen you before, And I'll see you again. Please do not miss me, But don't forget me, Old Friend". That was many years ago, And I miss him still. That road is getting longer. I am getting ill. So I return to my empty house. Through my hair I run a comb. And I leave one light on - just in case - My weary traveller comes home
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60
I don't know how to describe But they all seem to inscribe Their every pain on me Whenever someone feels down I just kind of start to frown But they will never see I know it doesn't make sense My feelings are so intense And they drive me crazy What I feel is much deeper The cliff doesn't get steeper Will I ever be free?
0
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 2:41 AM UTC
Invasive Empathy
while there at 26 other people present in this room, i feel alone; or at least my mind has convinced me that i am. either way, it's nice i suppose. and i can't really focus on anything but do i really want to? i could honestly not care less whether Graph B is steeper than Graph A and how it has an equation of -2x-2. i don't care if it's a linear quadratic exponential or cubic root equation all i can seem to care about at this moment in time is you you keep trying to bust your way into my head and make a reservation like i have extra room. NEWSFLASH: i don't. but somehow, someway, you have made your way in. and i don't think you don't plan on leaving.
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
please leave.
I have a feeling that my heart beat bigger I have a feeling That the fall grows steeper My hands are shaking The ground is breaking My heart is failing My soul is fading Ambition fade As mountain grow great Not mountain of stone Nor of earth But mountain of                     Lack of transparency I feel my heart beat bigger Not of love Nor of passion But bigger of Lack of sleep And desperation I feel my mind Of reluctance entwined But I have to go I have to do I don’t have a choice For the choice Is mine alone And a choice Made a long time ago
0
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
Stress
There's a line drawn in the sand It's a line drawn by the man It's a line drawn by the hand That feeds Our breed Misery There are lines drawn on our faces As sand hits the ground These fault lines are from the races Our lives have found The lines get deeper Like cuts on our skin The lines get steeper Like our chance to win We're thrown into a landslide We see the ground collapsing For all the silly things we lie And the things we say in passing The momentum of this earthquake Will never cease, only take And these tectonic plates shift When we live a hectic hate rift I need safety To embrace me And save me from my world imploding Before anyone can say they know me But the planet is shaking My mangled mind aching I trap myself inside a steel vault Never forgetting this is my fault
0
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
Fault
The crevices of physicality Sink deeper, Yet the jewells of originality Grow steeper. Erasing the short-comings Of distancing years, Ignoring the elderly’s hummings, And death’s fears. You stand bold and proud; Forever young, Within life’s merry-go-round. For the joy you have created Is endless and ongoing; And the love that you ignite Is forever growing.
0
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 2:53 PM UTC
The Elders
Love is all he knows, Like doves, he reeps what he cannot sow, Completely seeping where you cannot go, Secretly creeping on his toes, And there it goes, Waking up a stranger to the morning sun,. After shaking from danger, He cannot live without her his heart speaks out in anger, She's the last out, to give what they were, from back in the start, for' she sneaked around, Turned his whole world upside down, He grabs the gun and preys his last prayers, she stabbed his heart, and it teared and teared, Life's not fair life's not fair, the underkeeper gloomed, The gun killed today, and a love much steeper bloomed.
0
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 4:04 PM UTC
Remorse
279 Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord, Then, I am ready to go! Just a look at the Horses— Rapid! That will do! Put me in on the firmest side— So I shall never fall— For we must ride to the Judgment— And it’s partly, down Hill— But never I mind the steeper— And never I mind the Sea— Held fast in Everlasting Race— By my own Choice, and Thee— Goodbye to the Life I used to live— And the World I used to know— And kiss the Hills, for me, just once— Then—I am ready to go!
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2.3k
Tie the Strings to my Life, My Lord
i’m not another ****** card for your deck and bothering and trying is just another leap off a possible cliff except you have a blindfold around your eyes you may not know this but its cutting into your skin and the drops in mood seem steeper each time i return to this rabbit hole, just before it gets too dark is it really worth trying so hard on a continuous basis when your wings have been clipped ages ago why do we even bother then again why am i speaking on behalf of you? why do i even bother it’s always thunderstorms and rain with an occasional glimpse of sunshine that seems to be a welcoming party for the hurricane to think that i manage to mask my emotions so well i’m nearly fooled into thinking the same frightens me a bit take for granted to an extent i’ve become indifferent despite the fact it’s still behind my eyes close to malfunctioning but i can’t get it out of my system it’s like grasping sand in your palms and all you can do is observe as each grain slips from between your fingers - a great descent it’s just the reoccurring feel of never being good enough i do suppose whatever y’know
0
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
bother to not bother
living down here in this chasm high hopes, no one has them erosion has us sinking deeper and these rock walls just get steeper at the bottom of this rocky gulch in dryest hopes, we endulge living in this deep ravine we are somewhere in between
0
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 2:24 PM UTC
canyon
If the world keeps screaming I’ll break the night, I’ll turn it around, I’ll bend the notion. If the height gets steeper, don’t make a sound. "Sacrifice yourself" is the name of religion. Spinning the gears and faking frustration, while the system fakes a male ****** Here is your chance to go sour and I hope you have the guts to walk into this trap; If nothing is real, or we’re made out of sin, what is the image of God? I am not willing to be forgiven, I am not the victim of your forgiveness, I am not forgiven, I am not a sinner, and I’m not a martyr for your God. I’m just Austin Heath, dying, and leaving nothing behind, in the name of no one or no idea, and not even poignantly. Just mediocre.
0
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
"Anti-Philosophy."
Goodbye kiss to the day I'll miss. Put headphones on and select a song. Down the cobblestones until further decision. Division like the very fabric of football. Could choose my normal route to The Square, just four corners to take - a simple shape - see proud flags made of organic thread, all the colours I like will be on display. Although, what if I head down Butcher Row instead? Sure it's steeper down the shuts but I fancy my luck out there today. Before the leap, I see a wall so opposite to my position, it's hostile. How long have these concrete eyes watched on? I'm terrified and contemplate calling in sick, return to rich address and don't overthink. Then in each direction, groups meet at the centre. There's pointing and shouting and spit flying into hair that's in flames and ignites more people to march out deluxe doors left ajar as kids peer through windows above the obscenity. Hesitate to whisper, future back in that house, until I see bricks change angle. Thinking in pink. Shout loud about my background. Grab the handle of both sides. Point my crooked nose at the stone: 'Let's climb this together.' 'Peace and love forever.' Those at the back can't hear my speech. But those really listening cheer and preach. Reach for ladders or offer cupped palms. Touch the top layer but get knocked off by a flare thrown from out of nowhere. Hunt the culprit while the victim burns. Bodies clamber to sample some action like a mound of sugar infested with ants. Look back at my house in a peaceful daze. Turn to the melee and see a knife in my face.
0
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 1:40 PM UTC
280 Words
Goodbye kiss to the day I'll miss. Put headphones on and select a song. Down the cobblestones until further decision. Division like the very fabric of football. Could choose my normal route to The Square, just four corners to take - a simple shape - see proud flags made of organic thread, all the colours I like will be on display. Although, what if I head down Butcher Row instead? Sure it's steeper down the shuts but I fancy my luck out there today. Before the leap, I see a wall so opposite to my position, it's hostile. How long have these concrete eyes watched on? I'm terrified and contemplate calling in sick, return to rich address and don't overthink. Then in each direction, groups meet at the centre. There's pointing and shouting and spit flying into hair that's in flames and ignites more people to march out deluxe doors left ajar as kids peer through windows above the obscenity. Hesitate to whisper, future back in that house, until I see bricks change angle. Thinking in pink. Shout loud about my background. Grab the handle of both sides. Point my crooked nose at the stone: 'Let's climb this together.' 'Peace and love forever.' Those at the back can't hear my speech. But those really listening cheer and preach. Reach for ladders or offer cupped palms. Touch the top layer but get knocked off by a flare thrown from out of nowhere. Hunt the culprit while the victim burns. Bodies clamber to sample some action like a mound of sugar infested with ants. Look back at my house in a peaceful daze. Turn to the melee and see a knife in my face.
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41
Running here running there doing this doing that. calling him calling her. fixing this fixing that. Im just tidying  up the window dressing . Fixing the facade. Going here going there smiling nicely putting on spin trying to win the face contest. Just tidying up the window dressing. The store is out of stock. The Tax man is a vamp. Printing money like stamps. Busting up my camp. Time is spinning faster. Playing out the string. The treadmill tilts a  steeper angle. Winners never quit and quitters never win. Reaching for the next rung. Just like the one before. Just tidying up the window dressing. I got stamina to burn. Tax man. Gas man.  Card man Med. man. Food man. Clothes man Mortgage man.Rent man. Car man. Light man. Water man Boss man. Tidying up the window dressing Stressing hard about my stressing. Too jammed up to count my blessing. Tell the truth without confessing. Politicians full of **** Slippery as quicksilver. Who the hell they playing with. Left or right I'm done with it. AGAIN. Media. what media. Tell it to Goebbels. Just pulling down the window dressing Tired of playing Bo Peep. Big boy time. Wakie Wakie. The old shell game. Never give a sucker an even break Or. Smarten up a chump said W.C Fields. He was serious. I'm serious. Who's serious about 1929. Tearing down the window dressing Dont believe the hype. Nero fiddled while Rome burned. He was not mad He had a plan? Tearing up the window dressing. Life is much too short for mucking about with pit vipers bugged on ecstasy. I'm serious.
0
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 1:36 AM UTC
Window Dressing
Running here running there doing this doing that. calling him calling her. fixing this fixing that. Im just tidying  up the window dressing . Fixing the facade. Going here going there smiling nicely putting on spin trying to win the face contest. Just tidying up the window dressing. The store is out of stock. The Tax man is a vamp. Printing money like stamps. Busting up my camp. Time is spinning faster. Playing out the string. The treadmill tilts a  steeper angle. Winners never quit and quitters never win. Reaching for the next rung. Just like the one before. Just tidying up the window dressing. I got stamina to burn. Tax man. Gas man.  Card man Med. man. Food man. Clothes man Mortgage man.Rent man. Car man. Light man. Water man Boss man. Tidying up the window dressing Stressing hard about my stressing. Too jammed up to count my blessing. Tell the truth without confessing. Politicians full of **** Slippery as quicksilver. Who the hell they playing with. Left or right I'm done with it. AGAIN. Media. what media. Tell it to Goebbels. Just pulling down the window dressing Tired of playing Bo Peep. Big boy time. Wakie Wakie. The old shell game. Never give a sucker an even break Or. Smarten up a chump said W.C Fields. He was serious. I'm serious. Who's serious about 1929. Tearing down the window dressing Dont believe the hype. Nero fiddled while Rome burned. He was not mad He had a plan? Tearing up the window dressing. Life is much too short for mucking about with pit vipers bugged on ecstasy. I'm serious.
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52
undecipherable loss   • [it's steeper near the roses] attenuation   • [the mystery in the trees   and the mistral sound of your breathing] dreams of perfection: floral dress summer   • [the apnea and the scream] a touch of labyrinth to this world   • [in the fair and harmless light] imagine somewhere close by   • [imagine him waving as you say goodbye]
0
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 2:28 PM UTC
Para•cosm
At some point we all confront physical pain so profoundly intense it feels we will be consumed by its overwhelming conflagration. The deeper the burn, the steeper the journey, the greater these life lessons become etched within the slick skin of our hearts. Our life's true purpose is stored within those hours, weeks, years of desperation, of sweat, and introspection. When we finally awaken to witness our acts of courage along with every dip of failure, we feel blessed for having survived the ravages of a tremendous storm that bent our faith and altered the trajectory of our lives' paths. We are not defined by the worst events that have happened to us; still, the long alienating nights spent dissecting thoughts, confronting fears, acknowledging our weaknesses can bring us into this moment of extraordinary hope as we truly begin to imagine our lives beyond their conventional value; instead, we value the years our lives extend to us. Experiencing pain, loss, and uncertainty can liberate us to live a bigger lives than we had ever originally planned, to become all we were destined to be from our inception.
0
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 5:16 PM UTC
"Survival is its own kind of creative act." - Suleika Jaouad
A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky, and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space. The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent. A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon. It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock. When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space, where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths. The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before. In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon. Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold. The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones. The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock. The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet. From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow. The sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide. Strange, sharp and cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.
0
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 8:14 PM UTC
Antimatter (Neo Surrealist Poem)
A red bird has flown soaring in the great height of the purple sky. The thrilling scream was as a shrill cry on the soundtrack. The bird has disappeared into the sky, and all it could be heard was the sound. That cold sound became fluid in the ears. A forked green lightning following a zigzagging pattern appeared from an antimatter space. The eyes fixed wide-open up, and the mouths kept silent. A ship has left the dock to disappear in the mobile horizon. It seemingly disappeared and reappeared based on where the eyes were looking; the eyes were not able to leave the dock. When the ship could not be seen, a prolonged blast could be heard. Finally, the ship disappeared in an antimatter space, where cold could illuminate and beat the heat to burn everything as we beat the heat with icy cold neck wraps. The eyes fixed wide-open toward, and red screams grew from open mouths. The sun lost its strength to become redder than it was before. In the twilight, its disk disappeared below the mobile horizon. Its power was in the spirit and the matter of the freezing cold. The eyes were unable to see where the sun was going. In the soft and purple mist, they looked like little amethyst stones. The violet light slowed down in the water much more than the red light refracted. The waves of alternating strength in electric and magnetic fields moved around the Earth in the tick of a clock. The mouths murmured, but the anti-sound made them all be quiet. From an airplane in the sky, the eyes could see two rainbows with colors in opposite order forming a complete circle. The eyes could move up and down to see the red light that refracted out of the droplets at steeper angles than the blue light. The mind could imagine another rainbow made of complementary light wavelengths such as green, blue, violet, red, orange, yellow-orange and yellow. The sea shone brightly as a sky full of red and bluish comets having tails like trains carrying hydrogen cyanide. Strange, sharp and cutting words wounded the mouths stopping the thoughts to breathe.
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33
I feel your strong masculine energy every time you cross my path. You systematically shut down all my defenses, and hide the key esoterically inside your heart. I’ve felt a new elevation ever since I said that special prayer. I began to notice this brand-new hue; the color wasn’t clear to me at first. This feeling is different than I’m used to, one that I didn’t understand when we first met. One day I saw an attractive light, which leads to a mountaintop high above me. Step by step, I climbed your mountain, with deep ravines and steeper valleys. Some peaks have tried to block my travels, but I am making my way beyond your hills. I want to be born all over again, with you my King, taking my rightful place upon your regal thorn. Our souls will intertwine, to complete our sacred mission from God. We have no choice but to take our place, a place of love that feels just like home. This trigger “affect” is what’s taking place. You’re the truest essence of my answered prayers. This is not of my time, not of your time, but in God’s very own perfect balance of power.
0
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:20 PM UTC
TRIGGER “AFFECT”
broken bicycle chain legs whirling in emptiness the hill grows steeper
0
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 10:49 AM UTC
Pedals
did because i well jeez 10:23 farther steeper i'd was a outside 10:24 a junebug is creaking on the well like a fine cylinder. it's because steeper or 10:27 clunking a light of amiable is sort of. at 10:31 a common a cool the. into if. a very sorry long is diacriticly loose with the scab of lunging trees by the barn 10:31:53 is . it's was almost because i did i well jeez the june is a crimped fine determined juice. did it seem because or and a breif i s haloed somewhat or creaking a junebug is big for by the stalls shuffling with legs in the sort of barn by the 10:36 it's gabled a bit. or does it seem a because well did i and meyou. pm well it were 10:37 and longest brown is seemingly. otherwise unmarked a phonetic element. by a 10:39PM leafing softly the scuttle a. unnerved little scraping. beneath or metatarsaled cadence a the grassed stripping earth went from the basest mouth of timbered certainly to the unskinniest blue. a vanity of wheels or because well did i jeez
0
Mar 9, 2011
Mar 9, 2011 at 12:19 PM UTC
i4
Harder and faster, my heart pulls two ways, harder and faster, as nights turn to days, shorter and steeper, the dragons I've slayed, rear their heads back to taunt me, their sisters do haunt me, as I stand in this mess I have made
0
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Sir William, this sword isn't working
never underestimate anticipation let it be like the clicking of a rollercoaster car as it rises to the top of a hill steady climb right before the brink of freefall and as you shiver quiver as it wells up inside inhibitions stress thoughts in general all disappear and as you realize that there is no turning back truly locked in for what is next an odd sense of calm overcomes and as you raise your hands and let out top-of-your-lung breaths gravity attempts to pull you down back to earth but with anticipation what's meant to be fast chaotic excess becomes an even steeper climb all the way to cloud nine
0
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
anticipation