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
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 everything
so seriously. You’re going to die.
Don’t worry, everybody does it.
Don’t fall in love, love is not a hole
to fall into. Run into love, headfirst.
Bite your tongue until
you can taste the word no.
Give away your secrets under a pseudonym
for 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.
Forgotten HallsAn ancient, sprawling maze to me,
Familiar as I grew;
It housed the rise of many
And saw the doom of few.
Never did I stop to think
Of those that came before;
All I saw was my own path,
My own tracks on the floor.
And now I see it once again
Its age making it new,
Strangers faces alien
The air of nineties, too.
I stood there when they tore it down,
Laughing with my friends.
Not once did I stop to mourn
The era come to end.
PastRevoke your “was”–
Consign me not to “had” and “did”
But rather “does.”
I contain the infinite
–”Contain,” not “contained”–
And speak, soak, suffer, sit
In tongues newly-born that strain
After mine and sense that my
“Lives,” “breathes,” “dies,” “loves”
Expand into multitudes greater than
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
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 still
need to get out of bed in time for work, you still
have to shower, dress yourself, eat breakfast, brush
your teeth and hair;
and when your mother calls
to check in, you have to comfort her because she lost
her dad last night;
and when you call your grandmother
your voice cannot waver lest you upset her, because
she lost a man she's known for seventy years and even
though she would never hold it against you, you still
feel obligated not to cry;
and when you sit down
to do your job, you will have to do it with all your heart
because if you can
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
The Doner 7/27/15
I'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 donate
parts of me.
Parts I hold dear.
If in the future I can be helpful
to someone who is without - that will
be my purpose.
My corneas, which helped me view beauty
and ugliness in this world.
I will give to someone who can't see.
Maybe they have been blind all their
life or maybe it's new and it kills them.
If I can give them a glimpse of what
I saw then I will die with a grin on my face.
My lungs ( although I had asthma and suffered
occasionally when I was young ) could
breathe new life into a child or
a person with emphysema.
Maybe they will be thankful for a second chance.
And finally my heart. Which now beats faster
knowing my fate. I don't wish to die.
But the cancer is coursing throug
Is It Love?If I hugged you,
would you never let go?
If I kissed you,
would you cherish that moment?
If I reached for your hand,
would you take mine gently?
If I needed a shoulder,
would you let me cry on yours?
If I needed to talk,
would you really listen?
If I needed to scream,
would you do it with me?
If I needed to go,
would you come with me?
If I fell for you,
would you catch me?
or just let me hit the pavement?
The WandererMy life itself was like a thick haze,
I recall barely living, simply moving,
From place to place.
So often I'd see myself in dreary corner,
Watching others go by,
Their shoes shuffling across the wooden floor.
As I slipped deeper into a living coma.
And then, I saw him,
Like a nightmarish figure from my darkest dreams.
When he spoke, it was in the quietest of voices,
But I knew I had to follow...
And wherever he went,
Wherever he forced me to tread...
I knew I would only step ever deeper,
Into the burning pits of hell...