"timeframe" poems
Court of owls
New ink, new shoes
Clocks on, I'm about to run it
Fast as my pain's Timeframe, bout to gun it
I hope you feel something better my man,
***I'm feeling something
I'm feeling something better than planned***
Tuck in the winter, dam i fall into action
springing past Morty and summer
While I'm watching TV slumber
shaking off chains of reactions
is it a new start
call it innov8ing
or maybe to our past
Definistrating
memories, atoms alternating
like the world sputters aspirating
Spit split straight portals compensating
I'm drunk on Dark matter ever oscillating
the wind turned to me
just so it could turn on me
Judgment for eternity
Experience is the same
it howled with certainty
MY Experience denied 3x
so now you hear me?
from this judgment
I'm always ripping free
I don't generate art
so you can whip at me
I might penetrate stars
The universe is an artist
so Why does it ****** us
Aint the universe ever even heard of us?
I'm the passenger and still woozy the sickness
feeling the pressure but I gotta be a witness
compassionate, no judgment
we all have our reasons
~Got a spot that I keep w33d in
Hidden with the green stem bleedin
we may have different heavens
but we come from the same soil
When others decide our emotions
Got so many reasons for defense,
reach out and tipped it for the deflect
emotions reflect the deficit of me breathe
I just shake my head
so heavy, I need rest
Court of owls
Port of vowels
I am Born of miles
So I adult when you consult the Occult
knowings the lotion but still decomposin
all this is music I just need to recompose it
Saved another life Now the reaper owes it
I think I've got amnesia,
Waking up to
Sir you had a seizure
Eyes always look like
Man...I wouldn't wanna be ya
Empathy
is another form of slavery we sign up for
We live and we learn
Boomerang on the mic
I go and return
But its not just about living well
its about knowing the root of life
its Taking the threads in your hands
to rack the rains and crack the chains
Caught in the dream, my ego forgets
Sleep is such a shy death
***Court of owls
Port of vowels
I am Born of miles
in the Korn of howls***
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 12:33 AM UTC
I get lost in...
Hidden ideas and deeper meanings to what I'm feeling.
Looking for something real to believe in.
Over-thinking usto...start me drinking...
But I kicked that ***** to the curb and built myself a bandwagon.
That **** was poison, see...
I had to let myself help me.
Now when I close my eyes...
All I can hear is the...
Rattle-rattle-click, rattle-rattle-click...
The sound of round rotations, rolling over bricks.
Measured like a metronome...
Water droplets echo as they drip.
But if freedom is defined by the thoughts in my own my mind, then I'm frozen in the timeframe of tomorrow, never-yesteryear.
And I'm still a revolutionary, I expect the best in Here(point to heart).
And by that, I mean exempt from holding contempt for another mass of energy.
Another open ear.
Another open mind.
Another heavenly body.
Another mystical meteor shower.
Another alien species placed on this planet by a "higher power".
But who am I to point fingers?
To point out flaws.
To point out fraudulence.
To pinpoint the factors that built your facade.
To pick through your red brick fictons of how you think I should be perceiving god.
See...I get lost.
In a magic land...
With a tragic hand.
A tear in time and space...
A human definition of race...
One we so often judge with a 2 sided face.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 12:19 AM UTC
i think there is a glitch in my mind, perhaps it's a common glitch
in other humans minds too
but this glitch somehow seems to erase
every lesson I've ever learned about how to let go of someone
i should have let go of a long time ago, the one that teaches you how
to drop all
attachments and expectations
how to be content in living without always
needing.
i learn this lesson repeatedly, i love you, i'm there for you,
i get hurt by you because you do not respect or value
me at all
because you are selfish and do not know the power
of your words and actions or
lack thereof.
so i let go of you and feel weightless and free
not needing to make sure you still love me.
but then time passes and somewhere in this timeframe,
a few days, sometimes weeks
give or take
my brain resets itself, perhaps sometime in the middle
of a nightmare
and it's like waking up
with a head full of glue
that's when i start to miss you
and miss you and miss you and want you and need you
and silently cry at random times like at work or
on the bus
and i get so weak and needy and i seem to come to the conclusion that
i cannot stand on my own two feet if you aren't there to hold
me up
and it's all a lie, but it's a repetition and it doesn't seem to get old
and it's frustrating because i cave in every time, i go
running back to you
until you hurt me again and then
the lesson is re-learned
only to be forgotten again,
repeat.
all my life you have had such power over me,
and it isn't fair,
it is no way to live
it's suffering in its purest form
and i end up punishing myself for it
note to self:
you are not the air i breathe,
even if you gave me life
even if i gave you stretch marks.
what is wrong with me?
why can't i just learn from getting hurt and not repeat
the same mistake?
why can't i just live without you
for goodness sakes?
i want to be strong, i want to wake up and not always be
craving something, someone
i want to look in the mirror and not cringe at
what i see
i want to look at the sky and not have to wonder
if you still love me
i want to rise from the ash and not be ashamed
of how other people might despise me for it.
i want to live without the need for constant validation.
i want to love myself,
i want to be whole again.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 10:41 PM UTC
age extending by the severity of my mistakes
i am nothing but the hours I stay awake
everyone seems to know who they are
cutting jagged outlines of their personality with
cardboard boxes
friends afraid of waking up, diplomas in hand, graduating
but I am worried of staying up, stuck in this timeframe
watching lovers and childhood friends growing into
unrecognizable bodies
days becoming strange hellos and
short conversations
I imagine trees swaying
as if they are dancing to the sound of cars passing by
and I imagine looking at stars is a two way street
wishes being made from both sides of the cosmos
I imagine hope to be universal
and I imagine stray cats holding as much freedom
as the uncaged birds they gaze upon
both, hoping to be found
will I ever know the struggles of a man?
the loneliness of a stray?
the burden of a clock?
will I ever find my place in the Red Sea?
I sit unable to ask anyone this question,
no one understands.
--
it is 4:43 am
I am waiting to grow into an age I can look back at my life
and explain everything by saying
"I was a child"
and everyone will nod.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Blood on my hands doesnt wash clean as that from my mind.
in temptation we did bask for moments in despair I know
all to well.
A fool to imagine a ghost but in a less than empty room.
Sweet girl dont try to see beyond that which laughs befor you.
Im a shipwreck in low tide.
A vessel to long ive tasted time in it's bitter affliction.
A page away from a traggedy a night less in thought.
Behind the mask you'll find no reason.
Strangers we shall remain togather in this bed.
My words nothing more than fragment of a driffters heart.
Black and white images sharp tell stories i do not
wish to share.
Wine glimmers in crystal by the fire's light.
Towards a lesser man you lean to fill a need.
****** of the pen bleeding in thought.
The night's end and a comfort does point without direction.
The shoe if worn isnt all it seem's to be.
Ive cast stones breaking emotions to uncover all
that isnt me.
Sharing less more than friction then with light i'll trace
curves never speaking in my lies truth.
Im a ******* but least im real.
They want a devils fire in trade of a moments
encounter to seethe picture for what it is seldome is as
beautiful as dellusions of a dream.
Moments no matter there timeframe always stay.
like scars there forever on display.
I take pictures only in thought and paste secrets of beauthy apon
my minds cluttred wall.
Whispers of passion regrets I cherish so dear.
Shared a nights velvet inside more than thought.
Although in this moment i share space.
Im never truely here.
And in mornings light just maybe happines in thought.
leaves the warmth in the emptyness behind.
Althougth far from a companion in flesh within memory
you shall exist in this jaded mind.
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 4:00 AM UTC
to my sister,
i am a nice keepsake
that she keeps in the bottom drawer
i live in a town she left for something better
in a house she never lived in
to my sister,
i am nostalgia.
i am twinklie lights outside nice smelling vegetarian restaurants
and self-taken pictures she sends to her new boyfriend
that i've never met
to my sister
i am something she visits
for old time's sake
i am no more important than her hometown
i am simply something to be visited
when the time rolls around
and you feel like you should go back to your roots and pay your respects
i am that moment.
i am that timeframe
i am those twenty-two years
those dandelions on the front lawn of our childhood home
to my sister
i am kept for keeping's sake
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
Thoughts paralyzed nothing happens synapses trigger electrons coursing negative pulses negative pulses the descendent node blasted quanta light particles bending, bending, wending through probability changing extended timeframe thoughtstreams particle awareness transcending blending the two to one patterns in the aether
spirits in the machine
Deus ex Machina
Decelerate algorythmick alchemick base to gold it flows synthesizing glowing growing fire from the ashes the past is done the pattern enabled consciousness arising draconic gnosis blended
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Thought about the values
That stipulate the way
You hold yourself in public
And play your cards each day.
Those building blocks of character
The templates in your psych,
The friction points of weakness
That wake you in the night.
Thought about the substance
That binds you to your way
The strengths and the failings
That motivate your day.
Enigmatic factors,
The quirks in your soul
Which endear you to some
But leave others quite cold.
Thought about loving
And loathing and pride,
And the great depths of sorrow
We carry inside.
The reluctance to face
The resentments of sin
With selective amnesia
We nurture within.
Thought about birth
With it's promise and joy,
Thought about death
As finality's ploy
Laughed at the memory
Of your smiling face
And squirmed with discomfort
In an old lies disgrace.
Thought about leaving
But decide to stay,
Thought about praying
Buy what would I say ?
I decided to sit
And contemplate life
With it's myriad fantasies,
Pleasures and strife.
I Thought about you
With a smile on your face,
So I'll ponder awhile
In this pleasant place.
I'll sit and remember
The happiness spared
In that thin whisp of timeframe
That mother fate shared.
Marshalg
@theBach
19 July 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 4:36 PM UTC
The senses, being irrelevant
And often misleading,
Have led me to answering questions,
You've never bothered asking
When "when" is not a timeframe
So much, as it is a
Time of day, be it
Morning over coffee,
Or a digital dessert, I can't be
Made to let go of the
Gasps I grab for, upon your entrance
Or exit, breath becomes trivial.
You steal jealousy from
My eyes, and quite a jealous
Man can I be. Those same portals
You fill up every day with
Smoke and sensationalism, through which
Stolen intentions, kept quiet,
Are made mutineers
Against their vigilant captains.
The how came from surrender.
Realizing you turn me against
Myself. And as the world falls
Down around me I can't
Get that awful sound of my
Own hypocrisy, crashing down, out
From the canals they've found to call home.
Below broken-hearted-bowls,
And lying over the phone, and a
Cancerous presence on the
Stage of Socialites, you still look
Perfect with a cigarette in your lips.
*I've used "portals" before.
To mean eyes.
And cigarettes before.
To mean freedom.
But you just smoke them... Don't you...?*
There are those who marvel
At the size of her, before taking in
The expansive beauty the moon can speak.
Some are willing to court her,
Others rip the hoop skirt off,
And **** her 'til she bleeds.
Oddly, no one is ever jealous,
Of the time others spend with her.
She's taken for granted, as
The passed-around property
Of the Uncultured Below.
But that's not why I'm sorry...
***Or don't you wonder...
Don't you ever wonder?
Who went wrong?
What's correctly missing?***
It is in how I love,
The ways not withstanding,
And reason, remaining remiss,
That I ask you to forgive me.
You are who you are
Because I love you.
And I am who I am,
Because you are.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
May be simply unfair
But I punish
MYSELF
With no mercy
For goodness's shake
With full reliance
I stay afar from some people
Because
I wish to meet them
In next timeframe
In next dimension
In next pathway
In next lifetime
From the START
It's like this
NAMASTE
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC
How does it feel to be on that pedestal?
is it lonely up there?
i know you didn't ask to be there
things just worked out that way
"Plant the seed and the universe will
help you get what you need" or words
to that effect
well, it ain't happenin'
not on my timeframe
if i ask heaven and earth one more time
to bring us together
will i get a busy signal?
i am working on transforming and developing
my mind, just like the Dalai Lama said i should
but if i can only think about you
is it all just pillars of sand?
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 5:36 PM UTC
Slave to society, slave to myself,
choking in this nightmare, chasing for wealth,
losing my health, here to pretend,
every pence that I earn I feel less content.
I never got back the message in the bottle that I sent,
I failed to understand, but I still spit as long as I stand,
I shut myself on the wrong side of the fence,
I used to be in attack, now stuck in defence.
Dusty, post-apocalyptic state of anxiety,
sold myself to the big dream of society,
can I get my freedom back, your majesty?
Wait another year mate, keep planning it!
Don't feel part of the world, I'm stuck between these bricks,
try to cheer the **** up mate, but the gray matter sticks,
have a deep dive inside myself while I smoke my fix,
Thank god I got numbers - Yeah, 666.
Travelling ****** In a world of promises,
ice in my bones, I'm ****** catatonic,
keeping it dope, fast thinking, fotonic,
always going down a slope, falling, chaotic.
Plan for your day, engineer, atchitect,
only start being yourself after the sunset,
materialise something new from a concept,
always slip down when I'm getting to the last step.
Kids are grown ups before grown ups realise they're past,
it takes time to have a plan and time goes too fast,
my past is repetitive, my future doesn't last,
I'ma be ****** up a little before being just dust.
No way to adjust, you can only have the best blast,
embrace your day, it's a must,
there is time for most things but no time for rest.
In the timeframe given always try to do your best.
Embrace your soul before it's covered in rust,
everyone's got one, so try to find your craft,
if you have one more hour, nothing more to ask,
Spend every single ******* day like it's your last.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
Tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because I don't want to wake up from dreams of you kissing the delicate skin of my back to find that your existence is no where near me.
I don't want to suffer tonight knowing that when I wake up I'll be colder than I was in your arms when I saw you last and the only solace I have for heat are layers of fabric instead of your skin.
If there's one thing I could ask of you now, it would be to make me your lover, and make this your home so I can guarantee your safety myself instead of relying on someone else to keep that ****** beating vessel all in one piece.
I don't trust anyone with you but me, because I know things about you that no one else does and God forbid I even try to share your secrets anywhere but in the air directly between you and I. Let me grasp your hand in the dark and have you feel my warmth, so you know I'm there. So you know I won't let go.
Make me your lover and make this your home so I can cherish you like no one else will. So I can remember all of my favourite things about you and help you mellow the things I don't. So I could kiss you every night and be guaranteed to still have you the next morning. So when we say goodbye to one another, I know the timeframe it will be a goodbye for....
Because it won't be goodbye. It will be 'see you later.'
But tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because that way I don't have to bear my scars to anyone else but the dark beneath the fabric; so my heart can bleed freely and maybe you won't know of the loss I've suffered for you.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Do you try to remember his voice?
Her choice
Of words and socks
Oh, the shocks
Lightning bolt memories
Bold caresses of theories
Trapped in a timeframe
I do remember his voice
But it's not the same.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
*Time is relative.
It can yell. It can scream.
But it can't run backwards.*
It takes 8 minutes for the light from the sun to reach the earth,
And hundreds of thousands of this exact timeframe
for the sun's inexistent sound to permeate in permanence.
A solar explosion would annihilate the human force.
Everything we know would sublimate into a vacuumed space.
All knowledge of everything,
Vanished in a fiery apocalypse.
Death would arrive before it even happens.
So what is the purpose of life if death could already be here,
Eight minutes from this moment?
The time it takes to boil noodles,
Take a shower,
Eat a bowl of cereal,
Could be the last spoken,
Thought,
Performed part of everything.
How should I believe time is real,
Death is cheated,
God is listening,
When this minute could be my eighth?
I swing my chainless pocket watch and count each of my five hundred seconds.
And wonder if it would be simpler to exist where time doesn't.
But each child climbs higher on the playground's jungle gym,
Reaching for doctorates and dissertations,
Their watches not as precisely examined as my own.
No worry of things that are all too possible
In just a matter of time-
School shootings,
Asteroid strikes,
Uncontrollable plagues-
While my watch counts nanoseconds as it falls onto Earth's surface,
Their watches spin rampantly,
Drilling into their sandboxes.
I see this,
The same age I was years before,
And these children melt into wheel chairs and death beds alike,
Their children mourning their passing,
While their children's children,
Crippled with tears,
Hold the hands of their parents in desperation
for an agony so ripping.
And all the while I see the sun exhale its time.
The trees ignite,
the sidewalks smelt with the burning grass and buildings.
And just as I peer into the beyond,
My rusting pocket watch clinks with the sanded surface of this childhood play box.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 12:20 PM UTC
Focused on this tim'd delay,
Never knowing what to say,
Figuring out what might remain,
My ****** sky became,
And it spelled my name
It started insane,
Golden rain,
Passenger train,
Aquitane could be home.
But, inside my brain
There's a charlemagne,
A superficial middle cerebral vein,
Pounding and pulsating, keeping things in their lane
Constantly trying to ruin my game,
Crushing my whispering campaign,
But between my ruffed feathers, is my vibrissae
My bristl'd down, my come-in-and-stay,
My soft spot just for you,
"You set my heart aflame,
Every part aflame,
This is not a game."
You say,
trying my patience, pushing the timeframe
Carv'd in the window frame,
That premature hall of fame,
is our name.
All the voices and their claims,
"We'll always be there,
just beneath your vibrissae."
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
I. Death
The succumbing of the body. A multiverse of gratitude prospering to numbers and numbers of different equations set by the timeframe of some data. The child that freezes and realizes its fault and cries, sobs to its mother. The ticking time bomb of thoughts attacking every single brush of a fingertip and every blink of the eye. the picture of dorian gray hung upside down with satanic signs seeping into the paint. The cold breeze washing over the youngling flowers. The becoming.
II. Heaven
What is heaven but a tropical world filled with red lipstick printed butterflies. Sand seeping into places you used to despise. The ocean, the mother god, latching onto you creating you, its prey. What is paradise but the whispers of secrets that you should never have known. Of your friend who stole a boys' kiss. The very boy who made you blind and created an utmost infinity of bliss. But no, he didn't love her, he was the very messenger, the bird who flapped his wings and mimicked a boy in love.
You spread your legs. Because all you have learnt is that you are the paradise. You become the wonderland of Alice.
a sultry voice whispering into your ear, making your heart flutter to the beat of the words. the sensation of euphoria like ocean waves rushing through you.
heaven is the ache in your stomach when the night feels everlasting and you connect with another being. just being.
paradise is belonging. it is being one.
it is the feeling of a stranger's lips on yours, intoxicated. The sweaty palms of the other exploring places only few have encountered.
it is a distant memory. feeling reminiscent of a time that once was.
it is the first steps you take without a helping hand. A free bird.
n.b
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 5:59 PM UTC
Thought about the values
That stipulate the way
You hold yourself in public
And play your cards each day.
Those building blocks of character
The templates in your psych,
The friction points of weakness
That wake you in the night.
Thought about the substance
That binds you to your way
The strengths and the failings
That motivate your day.
Enigmatic factors,
The quirks in your soul
Which endear you to some
But leave others cold.
Thought about loving
And loathing and pride,
And the great depths of sorrow
We carry inside.
The reluctance to face
The resentments of sin
In selective amnesia's
We nurture within.
Thought about birth
With it's promise and joy,
Thought about death
As finality's ploy
Laughed at the memory
Of your smiling face
And squirmed with discomfort
At an old lie's disgrace.
Thought about leaving
Decided to stay,
Thought about praying
Buy what would I say ?
I decided to sit
And contemplate life
With it's myriad pleasures,
Fantasies, strife.
I Thought about you
With a smile on your face,
And I'll ponder awhile
In this pleasant place.....
I'll sit and remember
The happiness pared
From that thin whisp of timeframe
Old Mother Fate shared.
M.
3 September 2014
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
Call me a tragedy,
for I am breaking at the seams.
slipping the blade, swallowing the pills,
hanging the noose and biting the bullet.
See now if I had the guts,
this would be done.
But no, I'm stuck in a timeframe where
nothing matters but the sound of his voice,
and it keeps me here.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
Find paper and a pen to start,
A timeframe lost unto my heart,
A flash of me before the blur;
Or a moment 'I' came up for air?
Time and drugs have past since then;
I've habituated lust and lost some friends
Truth is I've felt higher since
But this journal appeals to some sense -
- That truth is recieved and noted, studied and quoted, to enlighten a mind until it's floated
These first few pages scribbled in haste
Jigsaw pieces; acknowledged, embraced?
Before the pills and powders, ***** and waste
Until time grinds these pages down to paste -
- Was there ever value in self-righteous grace?
But what to do but scribble sorrow
As power plants burn up tomorrow
This book goes back in time;
Paper pulp to trees and leaves
As I crawl forward;
*** drugs, relief?
I'll star no role yet achieve my goal
For doomed to die is every soul
'They listen not' - my wont to sigh
As the earth turns to the sound
Of a million doomed birthing cries
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
twas the bright idea of zee missus aye air
and dedicate this poem
(yes tis correct, if you bare
lee remember this mister
did formerly she push duck clear
addressed said spouse
"my little buttock blaster" en dear
ment - for obvious reasons,
and before she begat two 'ere
rip press ably lovely daughters),
anyway thee wife I fear
to publicize contracted a benign
strain sans incurable glare
ring housecleaning malady
(thus far no unpronounceable hair
raising name affixed
to non contagious nonetheless
accursed malady,
whereby to keep at bay,
scrubbing stubborn stains
from clothes, dishes,
and gamut of hibernating
Ursine horde (nee motley crue)
that come breathing alive
Nsync with beastie Bay
City Rollers Culture Club bing babes
upon first spring day
engrossed in this, that,
or some other sweeping floor foray
(analogously to Velveteen Rabbit)
shedding gray
winter coat when warmer temperatures arrive,
where humungous fur clumps would lay
comprising sudden empty raft
of shelf space minus a may
zing globules, oh...lemme get on track,
whence frenzied fever "cleaning bug" nee
major virus afflicting wife,
would necessitate impossible task
strapping former
feisty Norwegian farm gal
in straight jacket ivingsocial every
would be no game to play
boot tiring and cruel task of her life Yukon say
24/7 daily challenge,
which unpredictable timeframe
thine remaining lifetime sans wife oye vay
would frank lee zap
every last oomph of mine
if able twin door remaining with spouse
meanwhile 'til she obliviously
plucks persistent sprouting stranded follicle
tiller broad forehead resembles
a minuscule tarmac way.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
I hate my memory but check this connection....Asher = Antony Uptown = lovely boy in love = Girl likes other poet's poems, start spending time with him = angry boy begins to feel abandoned tries to talk to girl who's showing her new attraction = angry begins to argue want to talk on phone = pretty girl writes poem saying she logged out.
Now angry boy is jealous and furious and reads all ancient poets words. Angry tries to get old poet to IM as he pretends. Old poet tells the crazy broad these poems aren't for her. Angry boy can't get proof he needs of to prove to exgirlfriend" that new love is a liar, cheat and predator. Meantime ancient Mariner and pretty girl begin to get hate messages and a "warning" of impending doom and hurt from Astral. Old man and young Muse relate these weird messages to each other. Mature man writes to Astral telling him step off. Astral disappears and 24 hours later has filled "blood drained" pretty girl with lies making her believe old man only cheats and lust for more than her. All of this in little more than 2 weeks of growing feelings and talking all night every night. In weakened state she cannot see the sequence of events...nor motives for crushing her like this so she writes a players poem and begin to hate her friend. Old man cannot comprehend how this whole tale unfolded until he projects again...he used his third eye to find the stories first page. Jealousy caused angry boy to create a scenario since he's lost her heart to old man...if I can't have her he can't either thinks angry boy. plotting strategy to ruin old man's chances = knows unsure girl's fears = use these against her so he can't have her either = become ten women and create some crazy fiction to dethrone the champion of her hand.
Now I see motive for the lies to separate twin flame sensor. I see an impossible timeline to be the womanizer I'm accused of being. I see that the demise came about after the lies told to me meet with no response so Angry boy plays on her emotions to hopefully get regain....result is a good soul laying almost dead distraught destroyed and angry so into a shell she hides. Everybody losses here my love...can't you see what I see. Look at the timeframe to see the same movie and drama I can see. But pretty girl won't even give okm man the time of day....I guess I must bow out...young Asher wins again.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
I just told her that I've been battling writers block for months and that I needed something to draw inspiration from.
So she told me I can take a picture ,
Just so long as I ask first and so I asked her;
To be my permanent model.
And now I hold those words & that picture, close to my heart. whenever I'm going through , they are, she is, right there - pumping through my veins & eventually running straight through to my brain like a drug of some kind -
a never ending recurring image of her frame;
Not being stopped by time.
In this timeframe, the main thing ...
Is, she is my motivation .
With or without her knowing.
I'd get on my knees & plead if she were to leave.
Like, "why are you going ?
You are the pieces,
You are my rib,
You are my finished puzzle.
My unfinished body,
God made you specifically to fit me."
And she'd probably gasp & say something to the affect of: **** well I never knew you felt it like that."
Only because I never knew how to express myself like this.
But before I go I must run through this list, of things I must get done, and you are number 5 , number 4 , number 3, number 2, and number 1.
And as the countdown ensues;
I'll keep chasing after you,
Until I have you gripped in my arms like glue.
Resting on me, I'm kissing on you.
Ohh what a night , you're like the stars & the moon.
So right.
This feels.
You are.
There in the morning like the sunrise;
That's why,
Before I leave I get on my knees and pray while you sleep.
Hoping to God that in my brief absence you won't ... Leave .
-Ep
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
Would you remember my face
if it were a different shape,
If our souls burned a new fate in another time, another place?
Were we only meant to graze against the grain of this timeframe,
Should I bargain away
all of my chips in this game
or should I fold and wait for another time, another place?
-SLuR
Jul 18, 2019
Jul 18, 2019 at 1:29 AM UTC