Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jac Jun 2014
Busy without end,
Needless activity that
Has no bounds.
False actions
So incapsalated with.
Fretting about my life--
An unanimated robot.
Chained to the illusion
Of fervid productivity.
Things to do, things to do
Never a minute, never an hour.
Constant motion--
Only smoke and mirrors.
I had a dream last night. It was one of those dreams where you can't tell if you're awake, or even alive. But actually, I had a nightmare last night. It was one of those nightmares where you can't tell if the darkness lives inside of you, eating away at your organs, or if the darkness is surrounding you and eating away at you. But if I'm being honest with you, last night was a tragedy. It was one of those tragedies where you can't tell if everyone actually dies in the end or if we've all just been dead the whole time.

In my dream I was sleeping with the stars, high up in a nest that I made from all of the sticks from eyes and the branches from my brain and the leaves filling up my heart like taxidermy; making it look like it was never stomped on and kicked to the curb like road ****. Making it look like it wasn't shot at for sport because it would look nice hung up above the mantle.

And suddenly my leaves were running away from me into the current of the wind, and the wind was running too, as if the wind came and swept them away from me, but I knew better. My leaves weren't taken from me. They were leaving me. And the wind was leaving too and I could see the wind holding my stuffed up heart above me, taunting me, "na-na-nanana, I'm not touching you!" until I could feel that there was no more wind left in my heart. I always knew my heart was only felt with dead leaves and sticks but I didn't feel it until that moment.

Suddenly, the wind threw my heart to the ground with a malice that I never knew it had. How could my wind, once a gentle breeze caressing my skin, treat me so harshly? The wind threw my heart to the ground which such a speed that I thought for sure it would make a ****** mess all over the cobblestone pavement. And then, I realized I had fallen too, without even noticing because I was so focused on the potential pain of my heart that I never noticed my own body sprawled upon the ground. And I lay there I watched my heart beating outside of my chest, knocking on the ground. I saw it leaking, as if somebody had poked tiny little holes in it; blood was oozing out of it but not in the gory Tarantino kind of way. My heart was crying crimson tears that flowed through the cobblestone like veins dying to be seen by everybody. And then I watched it stop beating as if it simply ran out batteries and I had to go to the store to buy more but I knew better. Even batteries couldn't revive it this time.

And I was terrified, so I turned away from it because I couldn't look at it anymore. But what I saw behind me, staring me in the face, was far more terrifying.

It was you. And you were watching me like you had been there the whole time and I never noticed because I was so **** distracted by my beating heart like a bird buzzing in my ear, my heart was making intricate rhythms with my eardrums creating a song that I couldn't get out of my head anymore my heart was needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing needing my attention. Pathetic. And as I observed you I noticed... you weren't breathing either. So I started pushing you, shoving you, hitting you, shaking you, trying to wake you up, demanding your unanimated attention... but you were stuck like me. Just dreaming.

It was like the old days, you were alive but not awake. There were no more golden stars in your eyes, they were empty. And your eyes didn't look at me anymore because they were empty. No, there were no more golden stars in your empty eyes when you looked at the golden birds buzzing around my head like a heavy halo crown straining my neck, they were just annoying to you. No, you had some ****** up agenda in a foreign language from a ****** up foreign planet that I couldn't understand. And you knew I couldn't speak like you but you still taunted me with the curl of your tongue and the intonation of your voice. And I saw you slowly drifting away from me... back to that foreign planet of yours; my little ******* prince. And as I watched you leave me I saw delusions leaking from your brain as your eyes rolled back. But all they did was rain down on me.
Henry Brooke Nov 2015
on these cobbled beaches
of streets so bland, suburban sadness
streches like sand.
and out of the fog
the one that kills the bugs and people
leaving them dead, unanimated
along the flagpole, i feel it creep.
the beloved one is here,
again
far and close from my heart,
close and far from me,
yet nothing ever happens,
no results to see,
the fog could last a year
and wouldn't still grow up

she's pretty,
in my dreams at least.
How sad.
A virtual g̶i̶r̶l̶friend
I could Love
Gorba May 2020
The wine I am tasting has just been tasted,
The perfume I am smelling has just been smelled,
The song I am hearing has just been heard,
The girl I am seeing has just been seen,
The skin I am touching has just been touched,
The many things I am thinking have just been thought,
These lines I am writing have just been written,
Are we then just living in the immediate past?

If time is relative, can now be extended?
Should we rather think of now as time-limited actions?
I will be drinking this wine until the last drop has sunk
I will be smelling this perfume until my receptors are saturated
I will be hearing this song until the battery lets me down
I will be seeing this girl until she disappears in the wild and out of my mind
I will be touching this skin until I am crippled by cramps
I will be thinking until my brain is starving
I will be writing these lines until an elusive timepoint
If these events take several minutes, several hours, or several days,
Is tomorrow then also now?

Can now be stopped?
Suspended, unanimated, just like a broken clock.
At the speed of light time does cease to exist.
Can I then slow now down when I run a sprint?
Now equals present, just like a gift
While present can lead to taking the final lift.
Can now happen when we are not?
Free of life, lying down, some with the precious key to the holy padlock.
Can now (truly) be synchronized when we live on different time-zones?
Different countries, different continents, different rhythms in similar ringtones.

How long is now?
As long as the finite time
Between the moment we’ve left the past
And the moment before we step into the future.
This sticking junction that can never be past.

— The End —