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Literature Text
my thoughts are random
liquid drops of color
drip dripping from the celing
spattered on my skin
smeared across the windows
of my mind
blots of nonsense
confusing the language
speaking in tongues
of color
flashes of phrases
bunched up and tripping
into the fallen pools
swirling into the nothing
thats the screaming
in my head
silence in the color
like the ocean
wave after wave
of colorful silence
distraction
from the world beneath
undertow of emotion
sucking at my feet
dont forget to breathe
silence isn't always golden
sink into insanity
and forget you ever remembered
the silence in the color
liquid drops of color
drip dripping from the celing
spattered on my skin
smeared across the windows
of my mind
blots of nonsense
confusing the language
speaking in tongues
of color
flashes of phrases
bunched up and tripping
into the fallen pools
swirling into the nothing
thats the screaming
in my head
silence in the color
like the ocean
wave after wave
of colorful silence
distraction
from the world beneath
undertow of emotion
sucking at my feet
dont forget to breathe
silence isn't always golden
sink into insanity
and forget you ever remembered
the silence in the color
Literature
Not Yet
I’m on the cliff of success
But too afraid to take the plunge
The rough water scares me
And the ground is the only home I know
I admit I am afraid of change
Though most my friends
Have left this place
I still alone stand on this cliff
The last one left
Feeling stiff
Not one muscle moves
Neither eye blinks
The winds are strong
My legs are tired
But I remain standing here
peering over the edge of my cliff
knowing one day I’ll have to make a move
but I suppose just not yet
Literature
to become nothing
Nameless, faceless plague,
Thickly seeping into a cracked vessel,
Imbibing every cirrus, every eager breath.
The sludge trudges,
The Black contracts, bereaved,
The verdant grid, relieved
The sluggish spell begins to quell
Ardor,
Now only a whimper on fragile lips
Nameless, faceless plague
Swelling in congruence with every slower swipe
Maneuvering the psychic climate
Into Barrenness.
The Black is marvelously alluring,
She charms only genuine energies, vexes them.
She works against the Organic propulsion
Whose effort honors
boundless proliferation
Nameless, faceless plague
Abiding in once animate ducts (shrinking and vascular)
Clogging and
Literature
Don't Forget
I’m not even as half as strong
as I wish to be.
I’m not even a quarter of how clever
I’d like to be.
I’m not, I’m not, I’m not
oh so many things.
But I’m a million times better
then I was at the start,
a hundred times better
than I was ten years ago
and a fraction better than I was yesterday.
The things that defines me,
are what I’ve been creating all my life.
It’s the result of the mistakes and flaws
I’ve collected on my road
and the hope and courage
I’ve created for myself.
I’m not even a fraction
of what I wish to be
but it’s alright, I know it is.
Because as
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8/25/11
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Comments7
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As usual.. AMAZING!