To those who should live when our stars collide,
Suffocating innocence is but a dying light.
Labyrinth of the Physical FormYou dare to wander throughout the catacombs
And search every scum-filled corner
In search of something you may never find.
For the blood dripping down the walls will stain your white shirt
And the grim underneath will wear your feet down.
You'll become entangled in the tendrils of my faults,
And the sins will ensnare you in a death grip.
The air is suffocating
And the walls drip with poison of the mind.
The inner passage
To my heart, somehow still beating,
Is not worthwhile,
Yet you insist on finding the me
That's still lost in a dream.
You shine so bright
In my darkness,
I don't want to put you out.
Burning IgnoranceIf you cracked my heart open like an egg,
You'd see all my love that would seep through the cracks.
You might also see the not-so-pleasant stuff
Dripping like tar onto your unblemished white skin,
Burning it raw in its midst.
I want so desperately
For you to know
That I could never hate you
Because you're that type of flawless,
That I could never be lucky enough
To have love all my not-so-pleasant stuff.
I'll keep it all inside,
Because ignorance is bliss
And you're blissful.
IntrepidI have to let go,
If I don't jump,
I may never fly.
And the fragments are carried in the embrace of the wind.
I've never felt
So safe and sound
Anywhere else but here,
A tear escapes
From the corner of someone's eye
As the ground grows closer.
I have lived a thousand lives
In this moment.
A smile is etched onto my face
And the tear hits the ground.
Water Runs in My Veins I break the surface and feel the waves embrace my into their icy, yet soothing arms. Once I am completely immersed, every inch of my skin tingles. My bones seem to melt to match the temperature of the water, and my movements become fluid. I deftly plunge deeper, feeling both the cold and the warmth rush past me with every stroke. The pulse of the ocean beats against my skin; it is alive. I open my eyes to take in the scene. I can't see clearly, the images are blurred. Still, I can make out soft hues of color. I reach out and feel the hard, smooth surface of a rock, resting amongst others. I feel a rigid plant, and my hand even grazes the backs of a couple of slimy fish. With each connection made by my senses, I feel a rush of adrenaline. I am truly unlimited when I'm under the sea; my fears have been washed away by the white waves.
Growing excited, I continue to venture deeper into the dark depths. Soon, I feel wisps of seaweed brush up against me, tickling
Depicting LunacyThe moon leaks through the blinds,
Casting a shrine on the wall.
Light blue starlight
And my hands are perspiring
As they twist in the sheets.
My eyelashes graze the pillow,
And my heart drops to my stomach.
The Fault in the Silver-liningDid you know
That when my eyes are clouded
And my mind is empty
I can hear the clock ticking,
Counting each worthless second gone by.
Do matter how hard I try,
My heart won't beat in unison
With the indefinite continuation
Did you know
That when I lay with my ear close to the ground
I can hear the pulse of the earth beneath me.
It slowly spins,
Yet filled with the dead.
Did you also know
That when the blood rushes through my body,
I can hear the wind tremble and quake
With a familiar fear.
Because it knows its fleeting existence
Will slip through the world's fingers.
Did you know
That I'm afraid of that too?
And in this dark harvest of season
My life has completely lost reason,
For which or against to decide.
All lost in a savage and endless, bleak tide
In sadness and in kindness
In light and in darkness.
In a boat made of hope
I shall sail to tomorrow,
In a winding hurricane
Made 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
after the explosion
are these suns,
a faint projection
from an unreachable darkness,
And then everything is simultaneous;
the entangled mess,
And maybe it's all about editing and being edited-
The pilot painted across a desert,
A desert painted across the pilot.
Or the holographic drift, a surface reflection-
The expanse outside echoed inward,
Jagged orange treelines over the firefly black like someone holding onto a woman
(or the memory of a woman).
Or maybe just the T.V. relay
as I struggle to sleep,
from both dimensions
glowing and whispering:
The horses of your apocalypse/the apocalypse of your horses.
Fixing the damageYou feel damamged
Just like me
We can change that
We can fix each other
So don't give up
We need each other
Mary x Male!Reader
"D-don't you dare look at me!"
I jumped, scared. This ball of fluff----she was talking to me? With a shaky breath, I smiled uneasily at her. "Hey, now...I'm not gonna make fun of ya, or anything."
She blinked, and looked up at me, her eyes shining a bright red. "Y-you won't?" "Nope."
The girl's name was Mary Kozakura.
And she was like a puffball, ever so innocent.
"___! There you are!" Mary looked down at me, smiling sweetly. She was holding a tray, with various yummy-looking food treats on there.
"I-I made these for you, actually..." She was blushing. Wow, she's actually blushing!
"Thank you, Mary." I went to grab a small treat, when suddenly, Mary accidentally slipped on her own two feet, making the treats and tray fall and break in a quick, rumbling earthquake.
We were quiet for a moment, Mary covered in sweets, me looking at her from the couch, gaping.
"I'm so sorry, ___! I didn't mean to do that!" Mary began to stand back up, but fell
glass in the throatthere's something about that
hollow quiet in the night
that bite of air
beneath the clouded moon:
something like calm words,
falling through the gaps
between stained teeth
something like a dull thud,
a stumbling fawn
bruised by a wheel.
something about that
clinging crowding darkness
a sweet invitation:
prey on us sinners,
at the hour of our death.
happyAs someone who is diagnosed with severe depression,
you cannot expect "happy" to be in my vocabulary.
But you must realize that
we all have a different definition.
Happy is not being the richest kid on the block, or
the most popular one in school.
Happy is not always having a smile on your face
or a twinkle in your eye.
Happiness, to me, comes through tears.
Tears from finding out I still have good grades.
Tears from realizing that the friend who ignored me for three years
is now my next-door neighbor.
From discovering that my brother
isn't ashamed of me and who i am.
But happiness also comes in 'if's, 'would's and 'should's, as everything does.
If my mother would accept me
and not see me as corrupt or broken.
If my father would call me because I haven't talked to him in three months but
I only matter on holidays, apparently.
Happiness is when I would be able to have a friend
without fearing when the hurt would come.
But recently, I've discovered my definition of 'happy' ha
Arcadiai. You know how sometimes you want to be a playlist for someone? To be a fifty-three minute and forty-five second track on ambiguity, longing and nostalgia. A homemade mixtape they’d take with their late afternoon drives, when the borders between the dusky setting sun smudge into the perfect shadowed sky. You’re not there with them; your scents not intermingling with each other. But somehow, they’re closer to you than the salty and sugary wind you breathe, while thinking at the same time whether or not they’re in their own world; their own genre.
ii. And maybe it’s because we’re all gripped with a little bit of hypergraphia that goes vomiting on every awkward angle we have. An intensified gripping of intra-fireworks display only happening in our own ossified skulls. It’s thinner than a paper-thin margin how exhales of exhaustion could immediately turn into staccatos of hysterics.
iii. Yet that’s the imperial of music: multi-handed
This poem is for all of my da familyEveryone in my da family are my second family.
You all are always there for me like I am to all of you.
You all cared and worried about me when I am sad
Which you all always find a way to cheer me up again.
I want to thank you all for being part of my family.
I promise I will be there for you always through thick and thin.
I love you my special da family.