Tag: creative writing

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x’s, y’s, z’s

I hate to think that you’ve summoned me just to find there’s nothing there

but over talks of all our worries we can find a common care

that summers gone and winters here

and for this, we should be warm

 

i remember going to the doctor on the parabola of a mental breakdown, searching some cure in application… i was left with nothing but the solid affirmation that this is just life. leaving i knew what would help yet i still didn’t seek it out

some strange pressure of hidden points and stress had me caged in and formed myself to a new type of functioning

it was clear this place was killing me and i was letting it

 

i love to see that this is when seasons start to change

and if we die before we wake who cares to know a name

all this is the travel to,  a place

where we should be warm

 

 

i battled the locale and eventually left in some haze of hope that had a sick familiarity to it. From old new to old new with echoed experience. Just thinking that some signals are crossed and knowing it are very different, one preys on hope and the other begs resolution. i left a few markers behind, hopefully

 

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SWEET TOOTH

 

tHEY WERE LOW LEVELS STUCK ON THE LIMITED PHYSICAL AND RESTRAINED BY FEAR. bOUND BY THEIR OWN LIMITED KNOWLEDGE AND CAPACITY THEY SUBMITTED THEMSELVES TO PERSONAL SACRIFICE AS A CONDUIT FOR DESIRE.

 

pAIN KEPT THEM CONSCIOUS OF MOTIVE UNFORTUNATELY, AND THEY USED THAT TO TARGET AND PURSUE WHATEVER SILLY CONCEPTS OCCUPIED THEM. a FUNCTION OF THIS LIMITED CAPACITY, FOREVER REFLECTED IN PRACTICE, LEAVES ALL PARTICIPANTS WITH A BAD TASTE IN THEIR MOUTH

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©®™

BUN

I pair my thoughts with the vultures and let them circle the same. Thoughts over death?
Everything can’t be so fucking macabre. Maybe the birds are just tired.

If this is a pattern coiled to decay, I’d prefer the sky to carry on.

BUN

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CONSTANTelation

IWOULDMIRRORTHEHEAVENLYPLOTOFORION

eachtimeiarrivedhomeandpulloutanarrow

FOCUSEDANDALIVEIDAIMANDSHOOTUP

whatcanthisearthdotome

WHATFEARSHOULDREIGN

NONE

 

 

 

 

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Boiling Storm

The glow before the storm. A leading haze from dark clouds pushing the sun and growling low like the hunger of a primal god.

It’s beyond beauty to me but there are numerous scales.

So I’ll sleep under the cover of storm clouds, at least up to the chin and in my slumber allow the space as comfort. 

I know where no weather falls, where all kinds approach every sense of man. These days are fond of people and it still fails to keep us. Fear of neither nature or mankind the Minos is steadily seated upon the principle chair and the maze around never existed. Each approach of limited perception builds to its own demise.

The horns change and accent towards the mediums of time tempting whichever obstacles plague the generation.

Lengthy Exhale, Growl, or Thunder?

No jewelry, no adornments. Fear isn’t welcome here and doubt a frailty. Fools look too long, give too much stature. Another turn in the maze and instant vertical expansion to mirror the shock.  The glow pushed further away

Focus

Pending the task of perception over environment the overall brightness changes and one can look the chair more over. It holds an odd mixture that breaks any normal sense of texture. Cold granite back, warm angles of bone, deep rich lines of brown striking through marble…maybe red and even hint of dark and soft moss at the corners. Too long a gaze and the presence occupying this pillared cusp persists unmoved as the spoiled coin of time drops with pitched echoes off the surface.

I can’t say this is mine, I won’t fucking say I care. Sealed as if a fist of woven light years, galaxies bury my treasure true. All on that edge of infinite, singularity defines my love and peace. If ever I’ve known either, lest even held, better than and then. Fear is never mine a favored construct or mechanism.

Few have seen a dragon with a crippled bite, who’s the time? I assure you though, I have…and more so the entity over which a serpent tooth breaks. Can’t let our eternal get fat can we? A shade casts over all…one pushing the light

Deep inhale, instinct, or draft?

Four fingers about the lip of cosmos and a slender arm behind it. Mistaken stance of shield has soon forgotten the space about the stormy blanket. 

Mirrored pool

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Vex my reference to memory.

I can’t recall all my sources and in turn they might not have intended the nudge. But here I am, a pillar crowned in thought formed from the poking and prodding of life.  All but holding myself up anymore and looking for more than doubt as a ware. It is tiresome.

Boogidity lobster ravioli spherification

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Lost but Not Fond

Searing splits from the sandy mirror⌉⌈

As a step, a look and a truth the future sweeps———

I’ll leave it there and behind me….the whispers of the curio. You should leave it too, you can⇔

 

Beside you a bloom, inside you a spring. No comfort in a pot, a bottle, a fear. These days shame the silver edge clouds, have you seen it? Have you heard of it? I don’t know why we act as if our temples are only in religion. Curse the day we needed metaphors and put silver before foodΨ∇

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Concierge

It was bound to happen….

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“I’ve always had the thought that I could write something great” He said

“Yea man it’s good, it’s good”

 

They both lit up another cigarette enjoying the poignant high from the heroin. The settled rush when shooting up always made them want to talk, just like it always put a different smell in his nose.  They could talk about anything and it would be gold but still something about these talks were pure and that might as well have been the smell of an angel.

You do believe in God right?! Well then you know things hardly manifest out of nothing. The universe didn’t, so why would any conversation? It was a momentary heaven on earth for these weary, young sinners and regardless of the fuel burning in the pit of motivation, there was a point somewhere.

*BANG*

The lighter he was holding fell to the ground with a pitched hit. As he picked it up he scrolled through his phone again. Always scrolling, scrolling.

“I tell you what…”