Thine Enemy Divide I thrust reflection, undettered. Shy away A contest cheval fray and shiftless, drear.
Intellectual Laxity To think motivation, but a memory.
A little less than ComplicatedThe hour,'half-past'etherealand benign affection.False lightstand a shadowof this placeand my inception.Midnight,never too latein just timejust wither decay.Syntheticnow rainsover monotone, expressionabsence theabsent fleshwhen torn awaywhen nothing, degrated.'chorus'Never said I love myselfwhen I stand my ground and its more than a littlefakeNever said I hate myselfwhen I drag me down and its more than a littlefakeNever said I lost myselfwhen I can't be found and its more than a littlefakeNever said I held myselfwhen I hit the ground and its more than a littlefake
They yearn for an Older Glory Her story, her emblem razed and former to glory's prone. Prominence, outstretched the arm and lambent glow. By the famished horde and a sluice once led. Came poseur few, but a penniless more, not the river scour was their mile score for an ocean had only to abrade, before - and athirst, a gait that so impressed upon them - welcomed in the endless attain like freedom yearned; left coursed to its flame and still, she burns. Was ever more than did ever stake, as tier they yarn but a distant loom over the penumbra shade and appetency fades, not for a shelter gray;
Faith around her FingerThe hollow, perfect circle.A ladies perceptionmoldinginfluence to sphereand consolidatedwill-binding likemadness won't remember. I sank my chestpounding hardfor regressher finger beatsthe deepest drum. Cast wearily, then feckless-Uponreckless wrathas to warringkissesdeceit,that once lashedsoravenousin her cruelest featurethe hungryfool there leadand his palate desire.
Global-Eyed-Nation Surveillance and world order. My ipseity.
The Winter Balladclaiming theskywas alabaster mist'sof many cloudsnowgathered graywhere wintertoiledatheavens frayfelled anearthO're frozenfearfrom silkenmesh to flurryfro'and gelidshanksthatweather cold an icy browfor whettedtearsand solstice weptinto theiryears
Love is a Memory I am the callus over your feme sole, where once we bed as lions. vestigial voraciousnostalgic is our clash, endeavor each breath onto its knees and sleuthing, each past exhaled and castrateas theaironce soared. Edacious as to wroth, that audacity roar sully and inspired as any candid ear whence whispers ascend, every lie so softly spoken.Hidden intentionsnot swollen by the fauces,nor to drivel like fearbut from its frothing cuspdo let shallow our voices Had them gently, succumbHad then broke the last tear.
Sunlight and Torpid Bliss.Carless nature. Pessimistic ofalabaster columns,tinctured into azures gradation and penumbra façades.Thoughtless as wings to strumthe vocal air,nor whim of its limbs.I care not about darkness aged onto the grass;Not for all the quiet hoursof a greyand thoughtless, memory.
Forgotten HallsAn ancient, sprawling maze to me,Familiar as I grew;It housed the rise of manyAnd saw the doom of few.Never did I stop to thinkOf those that came before;All I saw was my own path,My own tracks on the floor.And now I see it once againIts age making it new,Strangers faces alienThe air of nineties, too.I stood there when they tore it down,Laughing with my friends.Not once did I stop to mournThe era come to end.
How to Live in 2015Be born. That’s the easy part.Beg for new toys or take someone else’s.It doesn’t matter. Being selfish as a child is normal.Being selfish as an adult is normal. Get dirty. Stop taking everythingso seriously. You’re going to die.Don’t worry, everybody does it.Don’t fall in love, love is not a holeto fall into. Run into love, headfirst.Bite your tongue untilyou can taste the word no.Give away your secrets under a pseudonymfor someone else to sell.Chop off your arms and legs to pay for college,realize tuition rates doubled.Get a degree. Find a job. Hate your job.Find a vice. Keep it closer than your breath.Find God in an alleyway.Lose God like a set of keys. Die and be reborn as a memory.Die and be reborn as an afterthought.Die and be forgotten.Repeat.
Things they don't tell you.Thngs they don’t tell you about losing your grandfather on a Tuesday night:When you wake the next morning, you stillneed to get out of bed in time for work, you stillhave to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brushyour teeth and hair; and when your mother callsto check in, you have to comfort her because she losther dad last night; and when you call your grandmotheryour voice cannot waver lest you upset her, becauseshe lost a man she's known for seventy years and eventhough she would never hold it against you, you stillfeel obligated not to cry; and when you sit downto do your job, you will have to do it with all your heartbecause if you can
PastRevoke your “was”–Consign me not to “had” and “did”But rather “does.”I contain the infinite–”Contain,” not “contained”–And speak, soak, suffer, sitIn tongues newly-born that strainAfter mine and sense that my“Lives,” “breathes,” “dies,” “loves”Expand into multitudes greater than“Was.”
DownfallAnd in this dark harvest of seasonMy life has completely lost reason,For which or against to decide.All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tideIn sadness and in kindnessIn light and in darkness.In a boat made of hopeI shall sail to tomorrow,In a winding hurricaneMade of treachery and sorrow.There's a spear, endless, and colossal spear...Piercing, slashing though my head.Starting somewhere in heaven,Ending somewhere in hell.Fighting, burning, crying, crashing.Are the armies within.In my head they are all thrashing.On the heaven's and hell's whim.To be light or to be darkness.A perpetual array.It's not merely my choice,But the choice of the way.It's an option of the voice,It's a thin line of gray.Is it a choice forced by fate,Is it a pre-set time and date?Or a choice to which I myself sway?But here's our story anyway
."Nothing that I do will matter.As all things will merely shatter!"All my hopes thus darkness scatter,As it shoves me a decree.As it si
letters to nobodyi said I don’t want toget out of the warmth ofthis bed but in truth ididn’t want to wake up.last night i read untili was drunk and in themorning i did it againso that i would not haveto deal with the hangover.escapism; i am an alcoholicwho does not know what theyare running away from.i said I write like thisbecause I like lapslock butin truth i was afraid thatthis raw thing in my brainwould not be so pretty withthe rough edges sanded smooth.i put down words until therewas only me and you and myline to the world went dead.i want to die, one day.in the meantime, i can onlylive a skinny life so thereare less strings to cutwhen we get there.i said This is the world –you are here and i pointedto the emotional equivalentof the middle of nowhere.you are replaceable, even toyourself.i know this because sometimesi put you in my place, andnothing changes.but the thing is, somebodyhas to fill this spot, andnobody else is
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”[Free-style poem]Why do this love this web comic, you ask?Maybe it’s just the way the fandom rolls,or how mean Andrew Hussie trolls.It could possibly be Eridan’s accent (WWyeh?)or even Feferi’s keyboard trident. (---E)Some people say it’s Equius’ broken bows and arrows, ( D →)but what about Nepeta’s meows and roleplays? (:33 <)We really do love Sollux’s lisp,and also when Karkat’s pissed. (FUCKASS!)Including Kanaya's fabulous lipstick,it's also Rose's amazing magic.How about when Dave starts rappingand Jade Harley begins napping?We love Vriska’s eight-pupiled eye,and how John is such an adorable guy.Or maybe it’s with all the spritesor how prospit glows bright.Can’t forget about Derse’s darknessor Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)There’s also this thing with Tav and stairswhich he t
We are blood and earth, not theory and chalk.I will stitch my skin togetherwith thread of moons and starsto contain the joy of livingand suppress the sadness of deathand light will shine through the seamsblinding the nonbelieverswith beams of the cosmosyou look so goodbathed in the novas and galaxies
The DonorThe Doner 7/27/15I've had a good life.I have no regrets.It's time for me to die.What will be my legacy?These are things I wonder.How will I be remembered?Who will mourn me?Have I done enough?Did I appreciate the air I breathe?So I made a decision.A choice of the heart.When I die I will donateparts of me.Parts I hold dear.If in the future I can be helpfulto someone who is without - that willbe my purpose.My corneas, which helped me view beautyand ugliness in this world.I will give to someone who can't see.Maybe they have been blind all theirlife or maybe it's new and it kills them.If I can give them a glimpse of whatI saw then I will die with a grin on my face.My lungs ( although I had asthma and sufferedoccasionally when I was young ) couldbreathe new life into a child ora person with emphysema.Maybe they will be thankful for a second chance.And finally my heart. Which now beats fasterknowing my fate. I don't wish to die.But the cancer is coursing throug
A White Wedding Your flowing gown ofWhite Lies.