shadokastur

He never amounted to much His passion more like an undercurrent than a fire Quiet Kept to himself Read a lot Paper boats on the water's surface He felt he had much to offer But the world turns even when yours is sitting still Muscles ache Children grow Tiny cuts to show Paper yellows in the sunlight He would sometimes look back Knowing only in hindsight What was opportunity Bargain hunting For his hobby Another pad to fold But folded cranes never fly

History repeats itself Dredged up from the mire behind our eyes A community play A collective plan The schematics of which we have yet to be privvy in our demand We are on our way though Through our scientific method of prayer and observation Faith of some sort of some fingerprint left in the mud in the deep waters of our subconscious Every savior a symbol of the rot of the need and hunger of the system we feed Like the fallen tree that is claimed by the soft earth First Mother feeding her young to Her young to her Young Pieces and patterns The full picture never seen We're always just too damn close to see the

Snowflakes and trails of breath fill the air Frostbitten cheeks and conversations about anything and everything I've never met anybody who takes my mind off of life like you We walk to keep the conversation moving to keep blood and stimuli flowing Adding to our time by seeing things we either both love or both hate I love the way your eyes light up when you laugh You move fast because you simply want to see everything before you have to die I move slowly because we have control over tonight and I want it to last as long as it possibly can We talk about mortality and realize we're both afraid of the things

I sit, transfixed     Unmoving     Unwanting     All stillness gathers around me And before Mara, the earth bares witness for me too I Am Here She roars her curses and makes her face the blinding sun     Beating down upon me and evaporating the water in my veins     I crack and break But still,     through shattered, chapping lips I say I Am Here The Bohdi tree offers me shade     And Mara grinds her teeth     Wild-eyed she flays herself of skin     so that her breasts are mangled     Bleeding And she glares at me, threatening     Raising her scourge, she swings And I whisper placcidly I     Am H

I crawled out of bed and my feet hit the ground, Pounding the floor like weights of lead. Something weighs me down today, Heavier than heavy. I just want to reinsert myself Back into the blanketed, air-chambered comfort of my nightly womb and go back to sleep. So unsatisfied with the status quo. It peels off of me my optimism, my care for everything else. My animata cringes at the direction in which I must once again force it to move and makes me a new but familiar kind of heavy. Heavier than heavy. Heavy heavy. Like a jazz musician playing with slow-speed gibberish to enhance the chaos of his shrill trumpet creaks

Quiet  Phosphorescent  A cold illumination  burning just beneath the surface  Still waters with shining eyes  This tiny cavern holding secrets  A grave of flying things which never found their way out  and nowhere else to go  Crowded, confounded  Beating heads and wings against jagged ceiling rocks  Tearing both to tatters until they meet the surface  and sink to where there's just enough light to die by

I know I'm fucking up.  I know it.  I know I am feeling my way through the darkness  with blistered fingertips.  I don't need the judgment or forgiveness of a God-sized fairy tale  I just need yours  Little, precious, you  My blonde haired miniature man  I know you are destined to make some of my same mistakes  I know I won't be able to tell you anything for a while  I know to expect pain in exchange for my ill-fitting love  But I want you to know that even though I'm fucking it up  feeling my way through the dark  I love you  I'm trying  I'll be here wh

Entrenched apathetic  No pain can come to matter  Even Death is just a painting on the wall     Liquor?  Empty.  Drugs?  Used  Woman?  Fucked.  Checklist?  Checked.     Phone rests in my hand    They said I should call if I felt suicidal  But I never finish what I start  Both options seem like work  and today is my day off     I was done crapping an hour ago  and I just now realized the smell  If I wait long enough, though, more crap will come  It always does  Maybe I should flush  Pul

He came home loaded     Waving himself in the air, threatening to go off     Barreling down upon his targets     Barely contained inside a chamber It was nothing new     He always went off half-cocked and came back fully loaded     Waving himself in the air, threatening to go off     He liked the way we'd cower when his attention was turned our way     Barreling down upon us     Barely contained inside his dizzily spinning chambers It was nothing new     But tonight, the safety was off and his hands were shaking     He was aiming to spit fire     To leave powder burns and bleeding wounds Tonight the safety was off and

I sat in my chariot of steel Wondering at the luminous orb of night Pressing my hand against the glass So as to empathetically imagine its lonely coldness   And to remember touching the graceful curves of her face It haunts me She haunts me I see the full moon and I can look right into her eyes But no matter what I say or do I cannot get her to smile I see the gibbous moon And I imagine her head cocked to one side Trying to look me in the eyes as I sit and ponder the depths of defeat I see the half moon And I see her profile as I marveled at her when she was unaware I see the crescent moon And I see her turning away f