AcrophobiaThrowing stares on aquariums must be fun;Acrophobia by DSteffi
fins resemble birds well enough.
If you squint and walk on tiptoe,
air quotations could be more than wings.
You’d be lighter than steam.
And with seven continents as your runway,
you can forget about rockets;
the clouds would look like buildings.
Just invite me for a little sightseeing,
because the wrinkles grow on my adrenaline.
Let’s not look down.
There are no kite runners waiting for us.
Liar, Liar[I am the exaltation of lost childhoodsLiar, Liar by DSteffi
in sequioa lifetimes;
the solstice to the equinox of
given a breath.
I am more than the glimmer of prisms
a shade of the rainbow in
I am a soul of the now
& the past-
No. I applaud you your illusions
Every Burning HeartEvery Burning Heart by OptimalDecay
You can feel it in the chill at the base of your perceptions
Your spine twitches at the thrusting impediments against the flux
100 million understandings count for nothing here
amongst the litter and detritus of a life gone sour
I recall the raining ashes
against a sky's view that haunted man's dreams
The changes came too fast
The adventure became a lusting, wanton nightmare
Would you kill your inner child
If only to save this lingering doubt?
Every burning heart has a song
We've but to merely hear the music to join the mutual dance
Lawnmower Fates.I loathe this placeLawnmower Fates. by BleedingProphecies
are gapped as white picket fences
with flowers poking out between
scarring an image
in attempts to escape
to grow among grasses
to meet lawnmower fates,
and twice as fake
as their polymer cousins
dusty in vases
high up in second-floor closets.
All the best thoughts
are just that,
And the good things
And peace is found only
in empty, dead end veins
running through forests
with a pulse of their own
paced by bird song,
And only when
I am blind to either end.
For I am sick
and sick of sickness
For in loneliness
there is only my shadow
and she's far too quiet to
keep good company.
If You Could Ask God One Question...He died. He died in a clean white bed in a clean white room. There were no tears, no last gasps for breath, no alarms, no dying confessions; he simply stopped breathing sometime in the middle of the night. In the morning a nurse in a clean white uniform checked for a pulse, made a note on a chart at the foot of his bed, then made a phone call to some men in black and gray uniforms. The men came and carefully packed the body away in a gray vinyl bag. A few days later his body was sealed in a vault at the Sunny Vale Mausoleum. There was no ceremony, there were no mourners, there was only a cold body in a stone vault. It could have been sad and lonely.If You Could Ask God One Question... by kilkegard
But it wasn't. It was simply quiet and uneventful. He had out lived all of his friends and family so there just wasn't anyone left to mourn. It was like he was the last person to walk across the tarmac to a waiting airliner, there was no fanfare, no waves goodbye, he was simp
BreakingI sit alone at a table in the far corner of the crowded room, easily ignored by the people around me. I can still picture my wife, sitting in the chair across from me, complimenting the soup that I sip on now, which had always seemed a little bland to me. Ever since her passing, I have been left alone, spending my days sitting in her favorite spot and thinking of the times that came before.Breaking by Breatheforlife
I hear him first, rather than see him. His shoes stomped loudly into the old folk’s home and, even though there was only one pair of feet, his footsteps sounded like a bull participating in a wild stampede. People turned to glare at him as he walked past. I did not look up.
“What has upset you, my boy?” I ask in my hoarse, aging voice, keeping my eyes glued to the lukewarm soup.
“Mother and Father won’t let me join the school’s soccer team. They offered me the goalie position.” My grandson, Matthew, whines. “They say it will take away from my studies.
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