
my brain feels like its melting
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Poetry - Words: 360 - Published: 05-01-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2667762
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The sky is falling upwards
the jars filled with hazel gems
don't cry out for the pain when
the beetles of humans sing acid-based
candy-canes and sugar plum bubble baths
where traveling becomes the rope tied together
only at one end because the other side cannot commit
and when the rain falls with all our sins
a messenger of whispered strictures shall call upon
the black clouds to veil all that isn't.
The knot is becoming untied
under blankets filled with lies and the wind will only whisper
fake faces which fall ungracefully to the bottom of a crystal well
seeking for true meanings lieing inbetween unpolished pearls and
chewing hearts slithering in and out of ringing ears
where undoings become tied once again
only to lead to bleed into white satin sheets that sing of sorrows
produced by the glory of sound and tune weaving a spider web
made purely for the sake of burning paranoia.
Gossiping, faint-hearted tulips and biting green and yellow dragonflies
wither into unfaithful blue-grey waters that murmur haunting overtones
sailing deeper than any canyon river can carve and the lieing wolf
shall thief and prey upon the glorious, innocent minded moon,
trying to peel strips away from walls built up
for that selfish purpose alone.
Cheating life whole-heartedly falls quickly through theman's fingers
turning words into sands of melting times that only make one regret
not fully trying to understand why the moon does what she does
where pure intentions become a vulnerability to use against all tides
breaking the shore to make room for more wilder, beautiful shells to
accumulate until there's no space left for the moon to glow brightly;
reflections of betrayal simmering to the top to cover the emptiness
the light cannot bend forward and only become a stray in space
where no love can reach past the barriers created so no pain
can enter without authorization from the sweet voice singing lonely psams
to all who are willing to take the challenge of riding past the black
side of the bowl and delve deeper than any man could ever attempt.
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