sense and sensesMy tongue drips wet with gentle lyrics
from a passionate soul.
My heart beats strong through the choking,
Burning heat of sorrow.
My fingertips paint the world transparent with words,
Both tender and rough.
My eyes speak ethereal, aching, and silent triumph
Over societal acceptance.
My feet hold ground through the stampede:
ruthless, mindless masses.
My ears ache under the pressing chaos
That constantly invades.
BareTwo hearts thud slightly off beat. Two chests pressed close, bare.
Fingertips in all their subtlety, Brush ever so gently across
A blushing cheek. Eyes close, Tongues dance behind thirsty lips,
And trembling lungs draw quickly at heated air.
Bodies plead in Silent longing. Tongue-brushed lips
Caress one another. Limbs intertwine, seductive
Words exchanged with each Lingering touch.
Their breaths between them interchange form one chest
To the other. Wandering hands evoke tiny sounds
That slip under breath between timid lips.
Bodies tremble, unaware and afraid,
Driven by impulse, feeding from the urge.
Two hearts thud slightly off beat and two chests press close,
DimitriWander through the trees,
Stare up at the pale blue sky,
Black branches out like claws.
Find you sitting, crying no tears,
Staring into nothing,
With a silver blade sliding
Across the smooth, pale skin
Of your arm.
Golden eyes wide but unseeing
As the blade cuts.
Blood drips slow but steady
Onto your old striped shirt
And I watch without words
As it seeps in- another stain of pain.
You've returned to your old ways
Your wicked, Dark ways of
Skin torn eyes unmoving and a
Look of pain and terror frozen on
Your sculpted face.
Your wings gone, and you'll no longer
You'll not be one of us again.
You've killed too many
Broken us all.
You were our downfall.
So be lost, keep cutting.
You'll not return to us again.
Heaven closes its gates to you
And we keep your wings locked away.
The Title Is A MysteryYesterday, I doubted
Today, I just don't know
Tomorrow determines everything
But today, it seems to glow.
A week ago I cried,
Clueless of the world,
Wondering what confusing life
Into which I had been hurled.
A month ago was different,
Sad and full of stress,
Each day from school to home I'd go
And for hours I would rest.
At night when I would wake again,
I'd gaze up at the moon,
With a tears, I'd wish again,
That the light would shine through soon.
Yesterday, I doubted,
And today I just don't know,
Tomorrow, I'll know everything
But today just seems to glow.
LoveI admire everything about you.
You are beautiful.
You are smart.
You are open minded.
You have one of the only truly free spirits i know.
You are one of my only true friends.
You critique my work.
You help me find ways to better myself.
You have helped bring out the best in me.
You stay up and talk to me.
You listen to me.
You are there for me.
You encourage me.
You inspire me.
I love you.
To Go TogetherHe promised me forever...
Just me, only me.
I remember that I smiled,
Whispered, "Good, cause I'll love you always."
And he kissed my hair.
Our years went by, and I made a promise
I didn't want to make.
To stay alive, if he went first.
First, I refused, my heart already pained...
"Promise me," I heard him say,
"For I promised you forever and that promise,
It still holds true."
So I wiped a tear away, I grabbed his hand,
And with no promise of happiness, I said,
"I promise... though I'll grow more pained each day."
And he smiled, squeezed my hand, and said, "I'll love you always."
The years of our life went by,
And I begun to notice his pain.
Time and worried time again,
I'd ask if he was okay...
Each time, same answer,
But my concern didn't fade.
One day, towards the end of our life,
We both awoke in the middle of the night.
He took my fragile hand so gently,
And whispered,"It's my time..."
And I began to cry.
With the weakest of whispers, he said,
"Remember your promise...
And that yo
Philosophy or stream of consciousnessCan I not partake of the fruit of life itself and live believing the lies that everyone else is meant to take whole heartedly and never question?
Is it philosophy or is it rampant rambling of random realities that, I remember, are not real, but rather representations of repressed emotion?
With open eyes I belittle my own beliefs, believing that the belly of the beast, which I am meant brutally to slay, is brought upon us from behind. It is beneath benevolence. Or is it above?
Not quite intentionally, I inspire myself with inquisitions about the inherently invented world, in which this individual race places itself on a pedestal of inexplicable power.
It is a pedestal that prevents the pretentious people from assessing honestly their predisposed reign of power.
I am meant to slay that malevolent creature which, with malice, made its way into the marvelous and makeshift, meaningless hearts of meaningful people.
The majority of them pretending merry, and misinterpreting the meaning meant