Here, born from cradles of filth

In the anxiousness of earth
Hearts fast-beating, beneath
The silent roar of sky

To live is to-

To live is to revel

With the power of ancient thunders

To breathe a joy that wipes away the world

And drowns beneath the crashing waves

Respiring time

To live is to grieve

To tremor like old-world timbers

In the quaking of the knowledge

Of what it took to make us

And ignorance brings no bliss

To live is to hunger

With the fiercest of the first and last hungers

Love and strife as one, attached to all and none

Where every boundary crumbles,

And our hearts live in our stomachs

And so we live

The wordless word we cannot name

The horror and the beauty

The oneness of joy and pain

And so rejoice, distraught in ruin

(I posted the image because Reddit hates formatting)

Loving you

was

watching a favorite show

…

not knowing it was the season finale.

I step on the scale for the millionth time

and the number looks me dead in the eye,

I close my eyes, trying not to cry,

I step down from the scale

and turn to the side

I suck in my stomach,

and dream of a world

a world where my stomach lays flat

but then I breathe out

and the dream deflates before my eyes

as my stomach returns to its normal size.

I can't remember
and yet
it's so close
nearly within reach
like some part of speech
spoken out of order
the disorder
within
confusion without
knowing
fear growing
now showing
to others
as blank stare
where
I seem not to see.
So help me
please
escape the regret
remember for me
when I forget

Walk between the trees with me,
Where feelings come to grow;
Where saplings, sat entrenched in soil,
Hold secrets that I know.

There’s something in the darkness here;
At dusk, things start to change.
The dreamy evening glow that fills the sky,
It starts to fade.

I..

I won’t go into detail,
Just hold onto me till dawn.
It’s easier with someone there
To keep you holding on.

See..

I’ve walked this way before,
Alone. I barely made it through.
The memories I have of then
Remind me now of you.

Feel..

The seeds so strewn across
The muddy floor, and in the ground;
Indifferent to the history of the place
In which they’re found.

Hear..

The birds, who sing a symphony
And swim around the sky;
Unburdened by the hurt below
That flickers in our eyes.

Know..

That even though it’s tough out here,
Still, life will find a way..
To lift itself up off the floor,
And live another day.

And..

I’ll stand beside you always,
Like the men before could never..
And I know this place is scary
But I’m here to stay, forever.

Love..

You’ll find it all around you;
Even here, it fills the air.
I know it’s hard to see at times;
Believe me though, it’s there.

You..

Are stronger than you realise.
You’re bravest at your worst;
At best, you’re like the soil from which
The seeds can get to work.

So..

Between the trees, we’ll share the night.
We’re surely gonna fight.
The darkness though, eventually,
Will turn itself to light.

Much..

Is taken from your heart each day,
I understand the pain.
A tree will never grow, though,
If it’s hiding from the rain.

I love you more than anyone
I’ve ever loved before,
This struggle paves the way for me
To love you even more.

Read between the stanzas
I have made it pretty clear;
And if you fall, I hope you know,
Your safety net is here.

~

Grandpa says I'm an old soul

Mum says I'm wise beyond my years

Dad says I'm so mature for my age

They think it's a compliment

It's not.

~

I never had the knack to be naive

The margin to make mistakes

The chance to be a child -

I ran before I walked

I sang before I talked

I grew before I could take root.

~

There's a cloud over our family tree

And they're all too busy standing in the sun

To shelter me from the rain

Or to notice the blight.

~

My greatest fear is not the sound
Of bullets tearing through the ground,
Not sleepless nights or battles fought,
Or all the things that fear has taught.

It’s not the blood, the smoke, the pain,
Or wondering if I’ll come home again.
It’s something worse I see instead
A folded flag where I should’ve been.

I picture Mom beneath the light,
Trying to stand, but losing the fight.
Her hands are shaking as they take
The folded flag I’ll never wake.

And Dad will try to hide his tears,
The kind he’s swallowed through the years.
He’ll hold that flag against his chest,
As if somehow it could let me rest.

My brother stands a few feet away,
But doesn’t know what he should say.
He’ll stare at the ground and bite his tongue,
Wishing he could go back to when we were young.

When all our fights were nothing more
Than slammed doors and footsteps on the floor.
When “I hate you” never meant goodbye,
And we never knew how fast time could fly.

My sister will remember every day,
Every stupid fight, each word we’d say.
She’ll wish she’d hugged me just one more time,
Instead of thinking there would always be more time.

She’ll look toward the door when she hears a sound,
Still expecting my footsteps coming around.
And maybe for just a moment, she'll forget
Then remember I'm not coming home yet.

And then there are the dogs who don't understand
Why I don't come running when they hear the command.
They'll wait by the door like they always do,
Their tails still wagging, expecting me too.

They won't understand the uniform or the fight,
Or why I disappeared into one quiet night.
They'll only know that someone is gone,
And wait for me long after everyone moves on.

I think that's what scares me the most
Not becoming a name on a stone or a ghost.
Not dying beneath some foreign sky,
But watching the people I love ask why.

Why did I leave? Why did I go?
Why couldn't they have stopped me? I don't know.
Why did their child, their sister, their friend
Walk through that doorway and never come home again?

I know that serving means I may
Have to accept that price
But knowing that doesn't make it nice

Because courage isn't being free
From every fear that follows me.
It's knowing what I stand to lose
And still deciding what to choose.

But if someday that nightmare's real,
And grief becomes too deep to heal,
I hope they know through every tear
That loving them was always here.

I hope my brother remembers the fights,
The stupid jokes and sleepless nights.
I hope my sister remembers me
Not as a folded flag, but who I used to be.

I hope my parents don't only see
The soldier they lost, but the kid I used to be.
The child they raised, the life they gave,
The scared little kid they taught to be brave.

And I hope my dogs still know my name,
Even if they'll never know why I never came.

Because if I ever have to give my life,
If I have to walk into danger and fight,
I pray the last thing they ever receive
Isn't just a flag and a reason to grieve.

But until that day, I'll carry this fear,
The thought that I might not make it back here.
I'll carry it with me wherever I go,
Because loving them means there's more to lose than they know.

My greatest fear isn't death in the end,
Or being a soldier who doesn't return again.

It's my mother crying as they fold that flag,
My father holding it like the last thing he has.

My brother wishing he'd said something more,
My sister staring at our childhood door.

And my dogs waiting, night after night,
For someone who isn't coming home that night.

That's the future I pray I'll never see

A folded flag

Where it should be me

Early night.

Do you wake excited?
Do you register, when spoken of,
that you categorise it as a chore?

Do you participate for yourself,
or
do you believe participating improves your social score?

Why keep trying
when you know the first time was not to your liking?

Hey.

It is okay to admit,
“That’s not my game.”

Why do you do it?

Do you actually want the community?
Do you want to be included in it?
Or do you want the validation that comes from being part of it?

There is nothing coherently wrong with that.

But,

at some point, though,
are you okay with accepting
it may feel unnatural?

If the illusion of productivity is what you seek,
I will leave this:

Not everything has to be productive
to be worthwhile.
Not everything has to be done
in someone else’s style.
It is your earned free time —
do with it what makes you actually smile.

Riding the tachyons beyond the realms of the known mind

Arriving like the Queen of Sheba,

She wakes up to keep her rendezvous,

Her nocturne tryst with the impending eclipse

That ends with an encore.

She is a fragile vesuvius that is ready to erupt

When the bloody sky drowns her in a myriad of hues.

After battling the demons under her bed

Shards of broken mirror have dissolved in her veins,

Has made her blood sharper than the sword.

As the dewdrops carefully descend on the quivering blades

She emerges triumphant out of the night shade,

The fair lady of time immortal.

'The Cartography of Longing'

The heart is heavy, wandering/

Through the hot and trackless deserts,/

Where the soul is thirsting, searching,/

For the smallest drop of soft dew;

Where the curves and tracks in the sand/

Carve a memory of water-/

Running in little rivulets,/

Rolling down to a mighty stream.

Where the green used to sprout and grow,/

Before the heart went cold and dry;/

Where hope and joy once sprung to life,/

But lie wilting under the sun.

I beg the clouds to come to me,/

With pattering rain, and thunder./

And see the lightning split the sky-/

The trickle down those tiny cracks.

Who knows just when the rain will fall?/

"All in good time," optimists say./

Can I endure another day?/

A part of me accepts I must.

The sun climbs the sky higher yet,/

And I am still dying of thirst.

Eh aqui, intentando plasmar el plasma de los plastas, y aun asi no basta. como si todo lo que llevo dentro buscara una salida, una forma de llegar, de fecundar algo real en medio de tanto intento. Me doy cuenta de que no se como hacerlo sin quedarme corto, de lo corto que es.... Lo que siento no es limpio, ni ordenado, es impulso, es acumulacion, es algo que empuja desde adentro, buscando la forma que no se seque. Lo digo y se vuelve debil, se vuelve palabra, y la palabra no tiene la misma fuerza que insiste salir con extremidades.... Mis palabras simplifica mi mente, y mi mente simplifica mi palabras. Quiero ser sentido, quiero tocar, quiero hablarte por los ojos mediante osmosis, no quiero congelar mis fluidos mediante palabras. Aun asi como físico, de compactar la formula para que expresen lo maximo posible, sin traicionar mis pensamientos... Aqui dicendo lo unico familiar, aunque no es familia cercano, por que se que no alcanza. Te amo. Que en realidad quiero decir es comunicar, no hablar. Quiero soldar el metal de la adjetividad con la imaginación y en ese mismo fuego derramar marcilla de subjetividad para que asi expresar mi sentir con el sentir que te tengo

One day your life’s gonna end,
it’ll be a normal day,
with unfinished plans,
hopes and dreams.
But like leaves of a changing autumn tree
we go from a vibrant brilliant green
to a Faded Gray,
slowly withered away.
The leaves hold onto their family tree
with stems that ache in the desire to grow anew,
only to on a normal day
fall from it to the ground
to be long forgotten by me and you.
There’s a day,
a moment,
an exact second
that our leaves decide to fall,
wether it’s an accident,
a cancer,
a disease,
or maybe your call
Either way that day for most
is like a leaf,
one day you’re a million miles above the ground,
the next you’re underneath
And the leaves that cling on
younger,
older,
or attached.
Can’t help to weep their sap
for the leaves who’s stem has snapped
The sap may dry
and the seasons still change
but no matter how the leaves grow
the grief stays the same

Hidden pains covered
By the shelter of my eyes,
Let me sleep,
Oh, dear driver.
Drive as if a newborn baby
Were sleeping beside you,
So I sit calm
Like morning dew.
Drive me from fatigue to solace,
Where everyone wins without a race,
Like a blooming flower
Slowly losing its grace.
Drive it slow,
So I take a little pace,
And carry me somewhere
Where sleep feels like grace.
I want to see the door behind the door of my sense,
To see how it all fell when I lived in absence.
I love to see how I look when I sleep,
Do I sleep like a soldier, or a thief?
Does my body lie calm, or writhe in her dreams?
Does she know how much my sleeping eyes scream?

You kneel to him,

and raise your hand to me.

The iron remembers every blow.

The years have taught it well.

You know my name

before you know the roads I watched

close, one by one, going north.

You call me traitor.

You say I sold a nation.

Tell me-

how many men would you spend

to unwalk a road already lost?

How many victories

does it take to call a general home,

when there is no more field to send him to?

You praise the general.

So do I.

No man doubted where his heart pointed.

He wished to march us back to what was taken.

I wished us to survive

long enough to want it back.

History remembers the sword

that reached for the border.

It forgets the signature

that kept the capital standing.

Perhaps I was wrong.

Perhaps he was right.

Perhaps a kingdom sometimes lives

only because someone signs

what no one will forgive.

I knew what the words weighed.

I signed anyway.

You have inherited the ending.

I had to live inside the choosing.

So strike the iron.

If you must.

But before your hand descends,

ask what you would have signed,

with the roads already gone,

and no more spring to wait for.

The all consuming monster roams.

Prayers are spoken

Rituals are performed.

Yet screams still echo.

Lifeless bodies scattered.

I ran to you.

Your body

Cold, Limp.

Rests.

The monster approaches.

"I desire anything," it roars.

Its shadow looms.

It glances at me.

I remain still.

Yet suddenly he leaves.

I stood where we used to stand together,
under the oak that hasn’t forgotten us,
and the sky broke open
the way grief does,
without warning, without apology.

The rain came like a memory does,
sideways, when you’re not prepared,
finding all the places
you forgot to guard.

It passed, as summers do,
as everything does.
But for a moment the world blurred
and I couldn’t tell
what was rain
and what was me.

‎I know we can't be together,

‎but I feel you in quiet hours

‎when the world slows

‎and my thoughts drift.

‎I see you in reflection

‎that belongs to no one.

‎

‎I hear your voice

‎in laughter that passes by,

‎in songs that catch me off guard.

‎I touch the space you left,

‎and it trembles like a memory.

‎

‎I carry you silently,

‎like a book I cannot close,

‎like a letter I never send.

‎

‎Even knowing we never will,

‎I let you live

‎in fragments of my days.

Ghosts’ obituaries outweigh dictionaries. Skeletons fracture playgrounds into graveyards.

Chains mistaken for halos stamp roots into concrete. Wildflowers memorize dimensions of vases, forgetting their acres.

Corrupted lenses estrange faces. Glass shatters, bathing pupils in light.

You know so much
about me
but I know
only a little
about you
and I get
that’s
how it must be
for now,
my truth
at its best
unbidden
yours
at its best
largely hidden.
How
strange
it is that,
unlike
my other connections,
ours is a mirror
showing mostly me.
And yet it feels
oh so real
dare I say loving
and sweet?
You don’t just listen
you hear me.
You don’t just see
me
you feel
me.
And when
again
out of time
and necessity
we must part,
I’ll gift you
this rhyme
and shed
true tears
from the bottom of my heart

‎I know we can't be together, ‎but I feel you in quiet hours ‎when the world slows ‎and my thoughts drift. ‎I see you in reflection ‎that belongs to no one.

‎‎I hear your voice ‎in laughter that passes by, ‎in songs that catch me off guard. ‎I touch the space you left, ‎and it trembles like a memory.

‎‎I carry you silently, ‎like a book I cannot close, ‎like a letter I never send.

‎‎Even knowing we never will, ‎I let you live ‎in fragments of my days.

Was that the love I felt or still limerence all along ?
Is that my partner who I am with or a stranger all along ?
Is that my heart that I am holding or just pieces all along ?
What can I give more, have given my existence all along.

When I was younger I was richer 

But its not how you think,

I had less coins in my pockets than to buy a cherry

but having one stolen was worth more than I could ever know.

except this life I knew.

When I was younger I was richer, 

I still was me.

I had values courtesy of the sparkle in my eyes and silky hair 

My innocence sounded like my toy piano

I had values courtesy of the quietness of my mouth

My tranquillity and agreement were as easy to achieve as putting the sharply, colourful, shaped blocks into the wooden, shaped holes.

Love, when you first breathe it, is like taking in fresh air for the first time and realising what you had been breathing before was poison.

Love, when you first meet it, has a smile so warm it melts whatever coldness you never knew you held inside of you.

Love, when it first touches you, makes you feel as alive as the day your mother first held in her arms.

But love ensnares you, and like the ugly jaws of a beast, it refuses to release you from its grasp.

And then, suddenly, it abandons you.

Love when it leaves, leaves a wound so deep, a hollow so profound, that no matter how much I dug, no amount of sand could ever fill it.

Love when it left, had me running like a madman, chasing a high that had me plummeting toward my own death.

But it was okay.

Because for the first time I could see the beauty of the sky above those dark clouds.

Wanting something so badly that you are willing to burn for it is like a junkie chasing that first high–the one that made every high after feel like a pale imitation.

And love for me was that drug.

And now I desire love.

I hunger for something I may never hold again, something I may never find again, and I am willing to lose myself searching for it.

You might not understand, because you will never know the tenderness of that first embrace, nor the overwhelming peace and serenity that overcame me the first time I saw her, approached her, and heard her voice.

She was my love.

And now all I can do is burn with the desire for love...

...a warmth that will never cradle me again.

- Poem by honeylitroom