I am in love.
With the air I breath,
the earth I walk.
I am in love.
With the steady rhythm of the waves,
the disorganization of drops of rain.
I am in love.
With the cool air at mornings break,
the sun peaking over an edge unseen.
I am in love.
With the song of voices on a busy street.
The bustling of their busy feet.
I am in love, or so it seems,
with all theses simple little things.
But of all the things, I do believe,
I love you more than anything.
5-22
8-27-12: The Highest Education by lalaith913, literature
Literature
8-27-12: The Highest Education
Enter the dark hedge maze.
Discover me- a shapeless, putrefying imp-
Surrounded by 1,461 jars of water
Filled brimful with my inky tears.
Desirous of a lesson, creep closer
I will divulge my madness with the closing of my eyes
Presenting undecipherable riddles
With answers plucked by chance and fair looks.
Quadrant One has low bushes
Spy the exit from here if you might
My candles have high wicks and light the way.
The roses cut off their thorns with grins
And the ground is made of dove feathers.
Here is a drink of water for your troubles.
The riddles here are few and possible
Each with a valid answer.
Perhaps the dark hedge ma
Who is that girl,
With dead eyes,
And bleeding wrists,
That will lead to her demise?
Who is that girl,
Who dreams all day,
And screams at night,
Yet smiles anyway?
Who is that girl,
With music-filled ears,
Ignoring reality,
To avoid the tears?
Who is that girl,
Who seems so familiar?
Who is that girl,
That I see in the mirror?
My eyes are wet, my heart is sore,
inside my head, a battle, a war.
The joy, the sadness, the anger the pain,
fight for the one that slipped away.
Time goes slowly, that's what I fear.
A day, a week, a month, a year.
Are they worth living when the loved ones are gone?
Well, that's the beauty of life: It goes on.
Boy with the Rusty Heart by MidnightSun16, literature
Literature
Boy with the Rusty Heart
Dear boy-with-the-rusty-heart,
I met you for a reason.
I didn't know it at first, in that heart-stopping moment of attraction
when your eyes briefly captured my own.
All I knew was that your obsidian eyes twinkled with violet secrets,
sweet possibilities, and a twilight paradise.
I didn't realize it, but as I reminisce now, whenever you said my name
it sounded like the perfect synthesis of a prayer and a curse all at once.
It didn't matter though I had already bitten the forbidden fruit.
I didn't see it (or maybe I chose not to), how despite your charming smile,
your truths came out like raw diamonds etc
Skeleton/Vapor by FallingAsleepTonight, literature
Literature
Skeleton/Vapor
"Whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life?
It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away" (James 4:14)
You could trace each of your veins with permanent marker, a crossed out road map,
a black web missing its spider. You could trace your fingers on the wet ink and follow your blood
as it leaves your heart
and slides down your arm then through your fingertips
before it reaches the pointed edge of a yellowed finger, taking a second to appreciate the
scenery.
Make sure to color in the vena cava, the jugular, the knife
that bit into your finger one summer chopping
tomatoes (It's
The nested cats, all cuddly and snoring -
Their rest cannot last,
Yet their dreams are enduring.
Hour on hour, life's sand is outpouring;
Still, like cats, we look past,
Sleep, sleeping away all the morning.
Transfixed in bliss, unstirring
Driven to become, en masse
The nested cats, all cuddly and snoring -
Sleep, sleeping away all the morning.
We are not ourselves
If only for a few hours
At October's end.
But ghouls don't keep time
And they show as they please
Wherever they attend.
The harvest brings faces
Transcribed into crops
Lining candle-lit roads.
The ghosts have a path
And they follow it knee-
Deep into humble abodes.
Autumn is the haunting time
Beware of such presences
That is what they say.
But ghouls don't keep time
And they show as they please
At Halloween in May.
her body is a melting watch
softly draped
over a branch
a backwards ballerina
once crying from pockets
now, as she's melting
it is now that she'll dance
the other watches
are slugs in the heat
no further stir; no ticking bleat
one is covered in ants
eyes must be closed to see her
minds bend like bows just to feel her
and it is worth it
if only for a second's trance
her body is a melting watch
but her grace lets slip reality's folly
a hypnotist's muse, that Salvador dolly
a dream in a dream of a chance