We meet again
The crimson spider webs of bloodshot eyes
Crying for help
To avoid one’s own gaze
Becomes harder when the eyes in the mirror
Are those of a stranger
I don’t know you
Why do you keep coming back?
Confessions of a bookbinderI never cared for the smell of ink
Black acid tears on white silky skin
Letters, branded without consent
The pages scream, but only I can hear them
If the birches and oaks only knew
How writers, poets, critics and fools
Would tarnish their flesh in self-importance
I reckon they would have remained seeds
They enter with their abominations
Gleefully proclaiming their excellence
And I am left to dress them up
To make them pleasing to the eye and touch
And I dress them to perfection
The smell of leather pleases me
But no one seems to notice
No one seems to care
They look beyond my seams of careful devotion,
And the fine golden jewelry around their necks
And see only the filthy smudges
Upon their white silky skin
The treehouseI built myself a treehouse
High up above the ground
Extended open invitations
But people never come around
It is made from solid metaphors
I picked them out myself
It took some time to find them all
Among the dusty shelves
I thought I’d be a dying shame
If they stayed hidden out of sight
So I cut and shaved and varnished them
And thought it turned out quite all right
For nails I used those little words
That critiques so despise
But when building using metaphors
You have to compromise
When I stood back to behold it all
I felt a tiny sting
This simple sloppy craftsmanship
Could never house a king
I thought about just burning it
All, down to the ground
Why even build a treehouse
If they will never come around?
It wasn’t ‘till I entered it
That I had a change of heart
I was ashamed for even thinking
About tearing it apart
I felt so safe within those walls
As safe as I could be
And if queens and kings won’t feel the same
What matters that to me?
I built a treehouse o
On the moveFifty miles from home
Twenty miles from condemnation
And so many miles I cannot count
On the road of contemplation
A million miles from love
Means a million miles from heartache
And would you risk that lengthy walk
Just to see a lonely heart break?
A hundred miles of tip-toe
As not to wake what's in the shade
And a lifetime then of running
In the dark through which you stray
Not a single mile of respite
Not a moment yet to pause
And to look back through the blackness
The road behind - forever lost
The destructive powers of imaginationWe shackle ourselves
In a cage of limitation
Every bar in our cell
Is our own creation
It’s not the lacking, but abundance
Of sly imagination
Turning minds against themselves
It’s a self-mutilation
Whatever enters a mind
That hungers after creation
Will be created all the same
There’s no room for hesitation
Even if you let loose
They will fight you tooth and nail
For their own preservation
Because a mind that is free
Is also free to rebel
And a rebellious mind
Can be a living hell
Human natureDusk and thoughts that do not sleep
The snowcovered treetops
Bears a golden lining
In remembrance of the sun
There was never enough pain to consume me
And the drizzle doesn't scream of fury
It only whispers
Of past and future
The now was always lost
The grass doesn't stab at my feet
Green shivs licking my skin with tongues of dew
Only taunting, tantalizing
And the venomous snakes slithering in its midst
Only crircle my persona
Perhaps not bothering with someone intent on
Endurance is not the opposite of defeat
The cool spring breeze and the furious winter wind
Could spend years in feeble attempts to move mountains
And deeds undone will forever go unsung
Why do you even write?
To answer the who, the what, the when, the how
Before the question above all others cloud your mind
That reversed echo that is the bane of your existance
Why? Scream it, tear the sky open
Let the floodgates unbolt and drown in it
Why can't you lose yourself in your words
Like raindrops in oceans
A two person operaThe overture starts
With beating hearts
Percussion is essential
In this work of art
At the pluck of a string
Every hair on your body –
Hear the arias rise
The libretto written
In wordless cries
The finale draws near
This is the masterpiece
That will make our career…
Just naturalFrom apple seeds grow apple trees
From apple trees grow apples
From human fear grows false belief
From beliefs grow mighty chapels
It seems to be quite natural
To seek shelter in the blissful lies
To shape in artificial molds
And cover them in pesticides
A marble pendelum
Dragged back and forth
By the clockworks of space
Counting down to the impending
Brought on by eternity and
The gazes of men
Yesterday and yesteryear
Time is old
Too old to be excited
By the changing of seasons and
To plummit and fall
From gravitys grasp - Unthinkable
The sum of earths' mass
Will win - Terra
Too strong its pull and
To wish you goodnight
Although a circle has no end
The spaceman that never wasThe curtains often whisper
Stories of storms that never were
But no one listens, no no cares
I'm a spaceman that never was
And a poet too
But I never engraved my words
On the surface of the moon
So they don't listen to me either
First you must become
Then you get the hammock
And invite them over for a swing
You can point to the sky
"You can't see it now, but there is mars" you'll say
They'll believe you even if it isn't true
If someone points to me and says
"There goes a poet...and a spaceman too. You just can't see it now"
No one will believe
Not even the painter that never was
He'll adjust his marine-blue tie
Pick up his shiny black briefcase and be on his merry way
Even though he always prefered orange
And fiery acrylic sunsets
Coffee Shop MemoirsPhilosophers think
We may dream our reality.
With earphones attached liked IVs
I dream my own melodic universe.
Until someone laughs behind me
And strikes up conversation with a friend.
And in that moment they become my anchor
Are they spinning through my dream
Or am I spinning through theirs?
Sometimes life fits in a coffee cup,
Sometimes inspiration pours out slowly like a packet of honey,
And sometimes it all mixes together
Like liquid incandescence that I drink right after brewing.
When no one speaks to me for hours
I begin to wonder
Is everyone dreaming a reality that includes
The whole café but me?
The street outside the window
With passing strangers, dogs and cars
Is a whole new Milky Way
Waiting to be discovered.
But I am no space explorer
Aliens are beyond my reach.
Whispers of the people around
Reach my ears distinctly
Like waves lapping on the shore.
Words on paper go no way
Towards proving that I was ever here
My identity is slowly condensed
Not into the people who kno
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
Reasons We Love Homestuck“Reasons we love H O M E S T U C K.”
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 rapping
and 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 sprites
or how prospit glows bright.
Can’t forget about Derse’s darkness
or Gamzee and all his soberness. (WHOOPS.)
There’s also this thing with Tav and stairs
which he t
Sex Object Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
A place where she should be able
to call her own, between her legs.
She feels that men only want her,
a true want, to have sex with her, and
The breasts she has, they gain
stares from men passing by, tripping
over themselves to find a chance to touch.
When will she stop being looked at,
as an object of sex? when will a man
see her as someone he may spend his
Her hips curve, and she doesnt
want your hands on them, if your
just going to touch her skin.
She wants a man to touch her soul,
not just touch her skin, and run his fingers
where they do not belong.
What made these men think, she
is just a sex object, a toy that could be
put on display, and taken whenever they
Between her legs, lies something that
every man seems to want.
Proud she is though, that she hasnt
given in, hasnt
heart brokenIn my dreams
It was me in your arms
My lips on yours
There was only us
And the clouds
And the stars
It was the world and us
It was us against the world
But in your arms I could take it
Anything the world dished out
And with your kisses I was strong again
In my dreams it was me in your arms
My lips on yours
But in reality
It's always been her
Not My Kind of Fairy TaleDon't give me the Knight
Whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the Knight,
Whose armor is dull and broken.
Whose horse is weary,
Whose heart is heavy.
Give me the Knight who looks at the dragon with pity,
For that dragon has done nothing,
And is just as imprisoned as the princess he guards.
Don't give me a princess who only wishes to be saved,
By that Knight whose armor shines so bright.
Give me the princess who wishes to escape yes,
But wants to free the dragon,
Who does not wish to marry her savior--
Nay, give me the princess who wants to explore,
Who wants to live and to learn.
For the years of imprisonment only made her yearn,
Not for the Knight whose armor shines bright,
But to see the world and live in the light.
Do not give me the evil dragon,
Whose soul purpose is to give that bright Knight something to fight.
No, give me the dragon who is weary,
Who longs for the freedom of the sky,
Whose leg is burdened with chains,
And whose heart aches for the princess he must guard,
i met a girl today
who was not golden-haired or blue-eyed,
who was not straight-nosed or full-lipped,
who was not long-legged or slender.
instead i met a girl
who sang full-bodied notes in both soprano and alto,
who spoke like a king and walked like a queen,
who had a body curved like the moon.
and that was okay.
i met a boy today
who was not muscular or broad-shouldered,
who was not charming or charismatic,
who was not tall or dark or handsome.
instead i met a boy
who had a memory like an elephant,
who wrote like an angel and drew like Monet,
who could churn out sums like a calculator.
and that was okay.
take a good look in the mirror:
and remember that what you see—
the imperfections and perfections;
the roll of love around your stomach;
the diverging forks at the ends of your hair;
the delicate sprinkles on the bridge of your nose
—is only one layer of who you are,
all of it
(all of you)
is okay, too.
LoveLove is when somebody gives you a shoulder to cry on.
Love is when somebody makes you laugh when you're sad.
Love is when you miss somebody whenever they are gone.
Love is when whenever you see that person you feel glad.
Loving somebody is choosing not to see their flaws.
A human being will never be perfect.
Everything that person does you will give a loud applause.
Cause in your eyes everything that person does is correct.
You want them to smile.
You would work extra just to be with that person.
Even if it would be just for a while.
Love is unconditional, that's the truth.
Insomnia-A dark nursery rhyme
I see you've come
to play again
lodged here in my soul so tight
turning brightness into night
please let me sleep
to never wake….
…now I lay me down to sleep
my life in tatters at my feet..
if I should Wake before I die
I pray these tattered wings can fly..
I never want to feel again
trapped here in this world so cold
where self is wrong
and Us is gold.
how i wonder why i'm here..