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Run-Out-of-Time Lovevelveteen rubies, opalescent in shape, they fall from their setting as they wither and flake.

what dear, just roses,
not gleaming nor clear,
but precious my dear.

why love, they're like love,
prickly and soft love
thorned love and loved love
but love nonetheless

now love, here's my love
to keep to your heart
will i have your love?

dear sweet, my sweet sweet
sweet love on your sleeve
this love like a dream
is it bittersweet?

so love, where's my love
that love that was sworn
don't say it's been torn

so love, 'twas bad love
broken apart love
sad love, unloved love
choked love, death-blow love

so love...
you say you'll love

let it fallstill, expectant sky,
hard grey laced with blue,
waiting for release.

February Thirteenththe sky is
flawless. i turn
my head to see her better.

"this is "you're
amazing." amazing."
we laugh, and
she sighs. the
Arizonian blanket
beneath us is warm
but that warm is only
skin-deep. she is
hearth-temperature,
and i never need to be
defrosted. the
faint sound of Hoobastank
coming from the truck's
open tailgate suddenly
cuts off.

"i'll go turn it --"

her lips are on mine
before i can breathe
and i feel like fading away
with the non-existent leaves
of yellow.

"can you believe that
we made it through
another year?" she asks,
marveling at my mind-
blown appearance no less.

"yes. actually, i
can."

she

EmbodimentAir wisps
from my teeth
like double you's
and butter cream

In my surreal view
I saw the eyes
of the milky way
and delicate
firefly wings

Objects seem diminutive,
humanity immeasurable.

Cascading light,
electric torrent

incorporeal artistry.

OakYou are of the genus Quercus.

Your plantae fingers touch with rough and frigid texture;
made of winter solstice.

Brittle, inflexible, breaking.

Necro emptiness humming throughout your systems.

Distant thrumming, idiophone tremors.

I can't writeI cannot say that my cognitive functions aren't affected with

frantic buzzing.

Interruption, affliction.

Fumbling and spilling, drifting and

drilling.

I've developed an occasion where
my tongue lazily presses against my teeth on S.

Habitual anxieties.

Eyelid twitching, muscle stiffness;
downward dog is such a hassle in the morning.

Cranial pilings.

I shouldn't be hungry.

NightmareFrom the moment you know, you are trapped inside your own mind.

You continue to live in the nightmare of a truth so unbelievable that it has to be a lie.

But when you wake up every day, you realize it's not a lie, but reality.

Office SpaceEveryone gets a case of the Mondays once in a while. You wonder why you're still coming to this dead end job. You wish you were still sitting on your couch flipping the channels mindlessly while your mind went blank and no one questioned you. It seems like there isn't enough coffee in the world to keep you going on those days. Still, you take comfort in the fact that the person in the next cubicle is just as cramped and miserable as you are and you trudge through your day not feeling so alone.

I don't have that problem. I purposely take Mondays off to avoid that. I beat the system. Haha! Now I don't have to be around people that drone about

Waking up in Vegas I glanced across the room at his silhouette against the rising sun of dawn breaking through the bedroom window. From this view he was perfect. All that was visible were his well defined chest and biceps along with his sculpted arms. You couldn't see the scar that marred his cheek or the ones that lay scattered across his body. It reminded me of how perfect I thought he was when I met him and didn't know his secrets. Things were so much easier then. Details always complicate things.

He was preoccupied and jumped slightly as I slid next to him on the bed and reached across his lap for the lighter he'd abandoned there to light my only cigaret

the weeds and the narcissistsshow me the stone
where the old men cry
and where the roses tower over the vulnerable.
a cave of thorns
where love can finally feel
at ease.

i think it's somewhere near
where we lie,
in poppy fields choked by
weeds and narcissists.

but we wait for those
who might be too restless
because they are the ones
who end up
choking themselves.

still,
the narcissists snap stems.
the weeds wrestle for a breath
lusting for more,
wanting no less.

and all the po

Flow of the City StreetsA leaf drifts along the dirty gutter,
Meandering aimlessly with the trash,
But carried away by the cool breeze
In the infinite flow of the Earth.

Nameless street signs lie ahead,
And the road diverges in thousands of directions‭;
The leaf mingles with the lingering sewage
And the scattered lumps of stray leaves,
Which once descended from varying trees,
Unified now by their vapid vagrancy.

The leaf is trampled by a stampede of feet,
Its limp,‭ ‬crushed body still floating away,
With forlorn faces beholding it indifferently
And passing by with lackadaisical eyes,
Bespectacled by gray-lensed glasses of sanity,
At

Little KiteThe wings beneath those wings
has been released, watch them fly
a little closer to God
than we are.
A flight at ease,
so bemused at the sight of the earth
as he shares a song
with the wind above.

It sings its own tune,
hums from its own tail.
Sees from below,
Casts its plumage
to be caught by the wind.
Free me to be like you!
Tethered to the heights!
A happy new existence.

For the earth below has held me,
It has no hum
as beautiful as the one
i hear you sing.
It keeps God
too far out of our reach,
it refuses to let us soar
and join you in that happy domain.

II
want trees
not jeepneys

I
want cricket's chirp
not rat's scurry

When I go outside
I want to smell the sweet rural breeze
not pollution or dust or sewer rust

I
want the province I am in
To hell with the city they live in
To hell with the dark place I clean when I'm there
To hell with the place I tried to flood in light
I do not belong there no-
I belong here
with all the grass and the blue skies
and the hot stingy breeze who smells of sweet rice fields

I
am

I do not
belong there.

Father's DayI'm seeing the messages everywhere
And I ache to send my own
But I know you won't get it
You're too far away, too far behind

Every time the time is brought to my attention
I'm shocked at how much has changed
In eight minutes, hours, days, weeks, years…
In no time at all you were left behind

The pictures are all I have now
Along with the memories I've forgotten
And as such I can't help but wonder
What else did I leave behind with you?

I know you'll never get this
I know too much has changed
The pictures never age or mature
But they fade away, just like you did.
They get left behind in the ashes, just like you were

Sacrifice"Tainted phases retire times atop arrested brinks, subjecting tears along a mind so finely abound- thus,
    an intermission obtained. May I suppress myself so deeply, enfolding into darkened senses of
      bridled exchange and assent. Earnest truths seek less your heart: blemished motifs of
        amity and ardor; a hardened stitch shall tightly wind soft flesh for your discretion. Yet,
          bloodshed curves of waning moons pass not your liking, so I must be some dea

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More from ~xinsomniakydx

The key to life.Today,
When you still have that fresh eyes,
And hands so strong it crushes ice,
You can't easily forget all the dramas and lies,
But,
Later,
When you have wrinkles on your face,
And a heart so weak it wants to rest,
You can't ever forget that key to life is happiness.

- Mia, 2012.

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Numb...by ~xinsomniakydx

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Like LP said ;
I, become so numb -
I can't feel you there. - ~

I support Artists and Writers :
#dALinkSystem For You.

Numb.

- - -
*xinsomniakydx 2010.

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Submitted on: May 16, 2010
File Size: 1.7 KB

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`IrrevocableFate May 30, 2010 Writer

Thank you so much for sharing this piece with our group, #dALinkSystem!

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!Iluvocnj2006 May 23, 2010

I feel the pain in this sweetie. Just remember, you're completely and totally loved

Thank you for sharing this with our group, #dALinkSystem

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*afterdeath May 17, 2010 Hobbyist Digital Artist

I feel the pain, great writing

Reply

Mood: Sadness

~magiqumbrella May 16, 2010

mmm I can feel its sweet embrace too

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