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Simon Oct 2019
Words are less important when there actually never together as one whole. Only a statement for something without thought. Coating different contents rationalizing the formulations of single added words. Words with single letter’s acting like separate components. Vibrating together like energy forming a magnetized exterior. Exposure to something higher than one letter keeping itself away from a fully fleshed out identity. Components away from fully established words, begin to understand faults of all sizes. Are they meant to form into a component beyond its state of letters? Or one single letter meant to form into a better juxtaposition? Cramming letters into words won’t make beneficial glances toward what’s really sounding each component out. Cramming is immature. Full of delicacies. Giving identity to something without time on its hand. The subject of time, will create the illusion of success. Something adopting without fair point involved. An unestablished, unfinished, uncredited maneuvering of stating the obvious blemish in formulations. Formulations become dotted without pattern. Pattern begins to separate juxtapositions away from the vibrations holding it together. Magnetized exterior becomes less wanted for survival. Survival intriguing sense of believe. Believe on the sidelines, acting as a stand-in for potential in-between gaps that focuses blemishes without identity. Formulations become less respected with time swallowing up (describing factors). (Describing factors) becomes less taunted by its own grip. Letting go the seriousness it’s been influenced to act upon. How does anything make sense without (describing factors)? Easy! Don’t think, by feeling. Just act on what you feel. Like instinct is more then words. More then single components. Something auto piloting in-between maneuvers. Juxtapositions lingering as the pattern forming a basin of after thoughts. Instead of thinking words haft to be orchestrated by volumes of thought alone. Fanciness will only make sense with a heart on (overflow)! Full to the brim with nasty, prolific, and incorrigible symptoms in the complexes. The complexes without undesirability, if it’s without merit when honing its balance fruitfully. A heart on (overflow) dumps all the rigid symptoms all over the complexes. Diverting thought for feeling. Feeling revving up different letters in the components that drive its formation proudly. Time swerves around every bend. Prompting the localized fissures of spaces without the muck invading it’s practices. Components of different formations attach the letters to the already imprinted silhouette of magnetized exteriors. Something clicking without measured volume. An instinct rush’s past visuals becoming unkempt and untamed. Never taunted by logic sounding too bland for everyday practices. The heart now empties to a crisp! Shows its formulation as a cauldron that assists the formulations of pure emotion. Emotion being the final victor of formulating words acting as components. Why haven’t we described anything about words acting as components, instead of letters acting as words instead? Simply because you follow a simple manual meant for visuals without thought. What does this imply? It doesn’t. You haft to find a center under the hood of your own (writer’s bug). A bug fueling an (instinctive formulator). One not ruled by thoughts. But by feeling. Feeling coats the improvising stature of a heart on (overflow)! Polishing the cauldron repeating the nasty, prolific, and incorrigible. Undesirably feeling balance rescue your merits without rut blocking visuals by thought. Thought ignores speculation. Taking all pride from feeling. Feeling knows all. As it doesn’t take brain power to figure out regular stimuli taming time before thought has even interpreted details alone. Everything’s been described. BON VOYAGE! To the ones spreading out repeated processes never redeemed by thought alone. Except I deceivingly left out the most important part. What happened to the rest of the fully stacked, brim cauldron of hearts content? It’s necessary when it’s never necessary. Cryptic locals understanding the bad details from the good, are everything wrapped into one bundle. I never said components have to be the littlest fraction in the complex. Describing components not ready for its magnetized exterior that’s already suited to formulation. The (overflow) is secretly the instance of formulation. The (emptying to a crisp), is cleansing every detail in question. Showing components without time attached by statistics. Free to roam willingly. An identity for labeling attires by feeling alone. Thought never abstracting components in a round up of early formulation. Existing close ties in magnetized colours harnessed to each letter in the bunch. Colours surging like a rope hanging on for dear life! Like a soulless thread never understanding what close encounters with the capability is all about. Colours interpreting the non eligible into understanding alone. Except only one (overflow) happened. And another in repeat. And another! Cleansing each component to form into words. Words repeating the constant process of joining into more words. Words acting as single components back to back. An endless cycle of repeating formulations. PS… Are you a letter waiting for it’s other components trying to gain single passage to identity? One rule complicates the (overflow). Do not overflow the heart to a crisp, before it hasn’t even dumped the full brim yet! It will collapse in on itself. Manufacturing a vocabulary too rotten to tell who’s free. Or who’s making up diagrams in the after claims of thoughts distinctly different then what overflow’s the opposite of brimming fully. Or who’s truly still trapped in a fixated rush of thoughts!
Letters full of too much clutter! Vocabulary giving tangled up letters a bad impression to there formulations. Letters as (single components), should be free thinking components.
i remember the slow down
the instant of undesirability

to creativity

didn't dare want him coming near me
i'd hide
praying for his rush to subside
though i never looked to become Sarah and deliver him to my handmaiden
rather that he'd remain
backed up
but in my bed all the same

now i seek him out
it's like my hormones have changed
and i call to him
requesting his blessing
hoping
even now that he would come minister to me

i woo him with my scent
dancing tantalizingly
awaiting the moment he'll grip me at my hips
be wind
gently overpowering
and blow in
to probe and to penetrate
to KNOW
to relate
with more than my core
my totality
and he'll never experience these waters running dry

no

only them running.
© 16 june 2009
Yitkbel Oct 2019
A void suddenly formed deep in the rolling sea
Calls for a deafening wave to take its place
And thus all these words I write to you
A thundering protest of the deserving silence

Sometimes, unconditional love comes at a price
An unfortunate price of utter undesirability
Ever quiet and misplaced, a bore and afraid
I come with such devotion till it's burdensome

You may have, like all, wished for a love that
Will always be there, never run away, without
Ever realizing the consequences of such a
Chasing and desperate devotion until you've

Swam in the ennui of this wide empty sea
An ocean without much scenery but always
Calling for you in the same nauseating waves
You must leave and find a landing place

How will you ever explain without mockery
The tattered fool that will always be there
To comfort you with an aching bare soul
Without ever needing anything back from you

Like they all say, the best must be chased
And yet just like the pebble to the gold
I'll be here for you till the time grows old
With your silence, bleeding, withering, fading

Again and again, in love with this pain
You're the lighthouse to my ocean
Ever trying to reach for your embrace
But always breaking and dying away
What pain it is to have dreams and expectations.
I had planned to read today,
Having no faith in the longevity of my words,
But there's no quiet for this soul.
The words writhe in the churning sea of my mind,
and
It overflows beyond my control!
And for what,
It's not divine, or unsaid
Written to one, unread by all.
Perhaps, as the glory lies within suffering,
This is my mission, to be
Loudly unheard, and still
Singing unrelentingly to all!
What is love, without patience in suffering,
What is suffering without pain?
There are truth and devotion in my lament,
A testament of my bearing the constant silence,
Yet still sing devotedly forever
For the suffering Nevermore.
---
No Quiet for This Soul
By: Yue Xing Yitkbel ****
Date written: Friday, October 4, 2019 6:52 PM
Victoria S Nov 2013
I ensnared myself in the inescapable business of not caring when the undying desperation of my heart reached a heaviness of fate that my weary wanderings were unable to withstand.
Without second thought, I locked the doors and buried the rusty key deep inside of the abyss that lived inside of me, where even my own search is incapable of yielding discovery.
Icy, stone walls now diligently keep under wraps my intolerable feelings of inadequacy and guard my outside excursions from the influence of any sense of care that may cause the perfectly manufactured wall of secrecy to crumble.
I could knock or wiggle the doorknob, but all honesty reminds me that anything left that may answer inquiry would be an emotion to beyond undesirability to warrant acknowledgement.
It is possible that I made the correct decision and maybe the fate of not feeling was truly the safest option left to me,
but even with all longings of my  heart oh so securely guarded,
I can feel the heaviness of a desperate ache holding me to the ground.
It may be under lock and key, but it is there,
weighing me to this fate, ensnaring me in hopelessness, and keeping me from being truly free.
I am weary from carrying all of this dead weight inside of me.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2017
it's no wonder they called you *******... and not kenyars... you ******* quasi Nubian allocations of sub-Sahara; unlike Indian, the darker you are, the more aristocratic you become... west africans are peasant in comparison to east africans; which is why their women are so much more attractive,; that lushness of plump skin, skimming the sea, meeting while at the same time engrossing the moonshine in being mutually reflected; Rhodesian beauty will always outstrip a Nigerian ambition.*

i'm starting to get worried
about afro-american women
these days,
who don't know what
dark choc east african beauty
looks like...
a sort of plump besuty
that might make a white
boy get a hard-on...
west african women are paler,
they have no aura of
a darker skinned east african
woman...
they arouse reprisals
of arrogance rather than
appeal of libido...
         unlike the Hindus -
darker esst african women are
more desirable than the paler
skinned west african:
slave trade material
gummy-mouth-off-*******!
with their castrated Herculean
slam-dunk dummies worth of
manhood.
at least east african women are
ball-dropping gorgeous
compared to the west african mouthing off
undesirability calibre of woman...
seems it translates around the
Greenwich bellybutton
            timing of reference.
Joe Apr 2019
Alone..


People have irrational fears. Some people are afraid of balloons while others are afraid of clowns or spiders or some other minute thing that can’t really hurt them..

But loneliness..that fear is real. That fear is in every single human being that has ever taken a breath.

From the time you are a child going to bed in your own room for the first time with just a small beacon of hope that is your night light to the 20s 30s 40s or until you find “the one” you fear being alone.

We are designed to be with others. When  Adam was created in the Garden of Eden surrounded by the most beautiful wonders that we cannot fathom..even God Himself said “ it is not good for man to be alone” and he created Eve.

From the dawn of time we have had this innate  desire for companionship. Over time it evolved from a desire to an obsession from an obsession to an addiction and from an addiction, a fear of being alone

Fear is natural. Fear helps you discern what is right and wrong. It helps guide to make choices dependent on your surroundings..

But when you feel like you are surrounded by nothing and no one..you can’t help but be scared and in your weakened state allow that fear to overcome you..

So you cope. You surround yourself with people. Anyone you can find. Often times people who are toxic for you but show you even just a hint of attention or acceptance and you crumble to the fear..

They aren’t that bad..at least they talk to me..he doesn’t  hit me or she tolerates me..
This is the fear of being alone speaking directly into your ear directly into you choices directly into your actions..

Rather than be alone you would put your own well-being both physically and emotionally aside and live a miserable life with people you don’t even love..but at least your not alone..

Years go by and you are chiseled away to mere pieces..so you move on..or they do.. but either way you have to pick up those pieces and glue them together and head out on your own..

Fragile and brittle because of past hurts you start to think you are better off alone. Who would want the burden of picking up my pieces and helping me keep myself together..

No, it’s better this way..if I’m alone there can be no disappointments or broken promises of love that should have taken away the sense of loneliness you’ve felt for so long..

Does it exist? Does feeling like you are truly with someone actually happen? Or have we all been conditioned to put on our masks, force a smile and be “ a part” of the group?

Masks start to get heavy and cheeks get tired.. you look in the mirror and relate to the only one who truly knows you..how you really feel.. how alone you’ve become.

But there is always that night light..when you close your eyes you can see that there is still hope..

It seems so far away..but you can feel its warmth.. all the while fear is standing behind you and as you look across bridge built of the past speaking a false sense of undesirability and reminds you of the pain that you’ve felt when you tried to just not be alone..

The light starts to fade..your mind is telling you to run..RUN! Now while you still have a little strength left..run into the warm embrace of the people who have been standing outside your wall but because you did not build any windows you almost missed them entirely..

You do not have to be alone..you are not alone..you just have to push past the fears and insecurities and embrace what you have been longing for for so long..to not be alone..
Jake Chow Apr 30
Dear Bosco?
'I know not why I feel warmth with your
presence, I know not why I feel breeze on my face with no wind present'.
An improvisational line to woo, I suppose?
But without intention, if I were to swear on it I would,
something of my subconscious?

With the future's eye I could see why those lines formed the way they
did (The warmth was from the alcohol
but the tension was sharper than your teeth
scraping my tongue)
I told you about it, my mind knows me more than I know it,
to the point of punishing me for unknown wrongs in dreams,
it must have known you before your lips knew me.

I told you I was afraid to be myself,
but I swear on my dead body I was nothing
If not my whole self,
though subdued through sleepiness, I rather
would want to get swathed
and swayed with your warming flesh.

I could’ve sworn I died in your arms this beyond late
night,
But with your tender lips it rejuvenated life at the same
time, 'I know not why'

Did I clumsily forget to mention the errors in my thoughts?
Your mind surely should have told you.

You asked me what I was thinking while I avoided the
deathly gaze in your eyes,
I said, 'of us', to things of that nature.
I asked the same, you said of nothing, just of us now.
Are you here with me? Are you?

You cheeky doll.
A mint before commitment, a premeditated attack, an
ambush.
Though not of undesirability, an ambush still.
Forcing my hands to touch yours while we sat in tender voices,
nature, pool, city, and the wandering fellow, observing
My nature against yours, yours against mine.

Talking hopefully useful information to invest in, for
Future reference right? (I hope she is not testing me)
Exchanging hopefully meaningful gifts, a promise pick, and a
reference from me to your favourite love song, lollipops and crisps.
Oh, how I wish for it to remain a love song.

You talk of my band and I talk of your films,
'Just make like -- 3 songs, and the rest can be covers',
A ****** camera or a good one;
You preferred ******, it adds more character apparently, I say
It's cute.
The greatest pretentious exchange of art kids
Ever.

A brush on the shoulders, our minds' leaves caressing each
other,
A bold grab of our teasing hands with your notion,
You tuck my hair behind my ears and I get shy as I for one
hide my face with it,
I ask, why?
'I just want to see you'.

(Do you really want to see me? Me
with all of my faults, do you want to unravel me naked?
Do you want to see me ****?
Stripped off all my accessories that hide my paling ****** soft skin?
The soft '******' skin that is still scarred)

You close your eyes and with your lead I shall do no
harm,
The lips entertaining, the tongues befriending,
the passing of saliva,
(Does she not know I have a sore throat now, all exchanges
must have forbearance and reception)

With that exchange for 4 days, I've known her 4 years,
never have I felt intimacy to that degree.

Breathe in, breathe out,
In, and out,
Take me in, and take me out,
keep me in,
Let me kiss you quicker so you won't see
my face.

Your lips,
they hold me everywhere else on my face, (why does she not care of
its dreading spots)
nose, cheek, forehead, they appreciate you more than me,
I ****** on your fingers, must've been my
subconscious,
outwardly showing you my need from reciprocation,
and you learn fast as you send nerve signals I couldn't
have possibly ever perceive with touch like yours.

(Have I imagined her?
My subconscious torturing me once more,
conjuring the facsimile of my desires,
and punishing me with making you hold me)
They would not understand you
like I do,
till' they witness your might.

Take charge, take seize, but
hold,
Let me,
Let my teeth grab your neck
Let my hand touch yours
Let my fingers linger on your palm,
Let my soul erupt in your mouth,
Let me pin you on the railing, bear your hips,
Let me adore you

I wish I could've stayed, and I wished
you wished the same;
The short euphoria I experienced I needed, and I crave you
more now.

I could've sworn our bodies were one of itself in our last
draws of breaths
If you breathe mine in I will do the same
If I call you by my name You will do the same. (I hope
she calls no other
by hers)

With your malicious eyes, fuzzy brows, flaming
hair that hell cannot explain,
menthol lips,
With your uttered words: 'You poor boy',
You've made a lover of me,
An acceptor of me,
The talker of me,
The writer of me,
The dreamer of me,
A father of me,
The worrier of me,
The lover of me

'What would be the name of our movie be called?' I asked
as if I had not fantasised of asking you
a few days prior.
I hope you mean it, because like it or not, you've attached
this song to me as much as I've been attached to you,
(The cheeky girl played it before our reciprocal breaths)

And now here I am,
sad and craving,
in your absence.
I truly wish you meant what you said,
I truly wish you understood my heart when you
said it was beating so fast.

I must not suppress my emotions,
as Elio's dad says: 'To make yourself feel nothing
so as to not feel anything -- what a waste!';
So I will follow his advice as I've told you my
Father is but a *******,
My emotions are unsurpassed, unraveled,
For you,
These emotions I will never feel again, they
change, evolve, devolve, degrade, falter,
So I must recite it to my heart's will as you
know it beats fast for you.

I needed to write this to me, from you,
'Else I would be holding me hostage choking the remnants of
memories of you. I smile as I feel this grief.

I will not deny you, I will not deny me.
I will not deny your jaw,
teeth, flavour, hips, smell, eyes, brows, hips, breath
voice, passion, initiative, stories, mind,
love.
I will not deny my shivering jaw, my
sunken brows,
my aching belly,
my strained throat,
my dulling eyes,
my tricky mind,
my yearn, my
love.

So be it, I'll wait.
As our song states, True Love Waits.
The haunting echoes of his voice breaks me,
Do you love the song more than ever?
More importantly, do you believe in the song as you say it
is your favourite from the band? I
will play our song with your pick,
And I pray you learn it
with mine.

Whatever, I told you of the mess I am, or
maybe not (at the very least implicitly)
and I was just dreaming

This is not a closure, not acceptance, I will
go as you ebb.
Just, don't leave.
Don't,
Leave.
last summer i was too devastated to cry, so I wrote instead - the feeling that consumed me, I still don't entirely understand.

— The End —