The Sphere (Nostalgia Rain)
Raindrops…. One for each moment she lived
Fallen down on her, disappearing their memories into her hair,
As her mind thought about them.
Disappearing into small slashes,
As they fell on the ground and disappeared into
A wet grass
A memory of a raindrop
That reminded her of herself
A Christmas with her family,
Loving their child
A Christmas where she would give
And receive love,
Positioned to love
Those who threw their love
She reaches a hand
Out to grab
Splashes destroy it on the ground,
As she is reminded why the raindrop vanished.
There was no love left in the rain.
She had abandoned such things to a past,
Hidden in another time,
So long ago.
Her own planet.
Held in the raindrops,
She was in a sphere of mind.
The Planet (Wandering)
After losing both a daughter
And a Samoyed,
A father was taken,
By his sleep,
To a planet
He never recognized.
A planet’s surface, covered in white fur.
It reminded him of her white fur,
Fully clean and flowing in a wind of her short life.
Fully groomed, better than he could have ever done.
He wandered on the fur,
Looking for his deceased daughter.
At the end of the planet…. He saw her.
The young woman she had become, filled with hope and energy
About her future
A future her father was finally seeing again,
Witness to how she would have looked,
All grown up.
A witness to her specialness,
He saw her naked,
Her bare and soft feet on his deceased dog’s fur.
“She’s fine without me…. look at who she’s grown up to be.”
One last look at her daughter,
Snuggling under the fur of the Samoyed planet.
In heaven, he wanted to believe his daughter was there,
And that there was a “heaven”, for her sake.
The planet of swaying white fur looked close enough
To a heaven
She would have dreamed of being in.
His time was up.
He walked off the remembering planet….
And wandered to his death.
Each finger counted a moment, and each finger counted a time of death.
When a life left a home, a finger counted the time before it arrived in darkness.
When a life left to see a star, a finger counted the time before it arrived in a light,
Seeing a shooting star located somewhere a hand could reach.
Upon grabbing a light, where did the shooting star fall?
A hand that could reach it was cut off by light that pressured it
To fall into darkness
But a chest of darkness that pushed against light
Threw the balance to the wind,
Making light contract and absorb into a dark space.
The wind simply picked up again,
As the hand was forgotten
It fell, like all the others
In a deep darkness of death.
The cycle surges, as more hands fall
Failing to grab any light.
The corpses falling into an ocean
Were drowned out by the sounds of seagulls
Alive, they struggled underwater
Breathing nothing as their lungs collapsed form a fear of drowning
Regrets floated with them to the bottom of the bed,
Where they lay on it,
The coffins prepared for them to sleep in.
A drowning force that pushed their bodies,
Until they drowned on their own corpses
A decomposing process sped up under the ocean’s waves
That sent them into a panic
Fragments of a past that ran away from them
Fragments of bone, flesh, decayed skin that ran away from them
Somewhere far, everything that was once them vanished.
Spitting out rotten food, a lone soul smacked into a sudden air pocket of her bed.
Powerful eyes that spilt a sea that tried to make death out of her.
Power that surged through the surges of time passing underwater….
The analog clock of this home ticked like a bomb, never going to explode.
Animals and humans fell under the waves, turning into the young woman
With the powerful eyes
The surface was black with forgotten memories,
Neglected to bring her back to life,
Reborn in something else,
Who would share her thoughts together some day.
For now, she faced her dark eyes,
All over the bottom of her bed.
A death that stared back at her, eyeing her with instruction on how to feast.
But closing all the darkness around her,
The young woman found an escape in the power her eyes of death
Wished for her to sleep in.
Death spit her out.
Bed (A memorable Chaos)
Going to sleep
A bed was a home to him.
Dreams of someone he had yet to meet....it would be a life-changing encounter with a “her”.
A “her” he had reamed off, given form by the clouds of a dream.
When she spoke to him, it sounded like an angel, in no heaven he wanted to search for.
When she gave him a gift of love,
He rejected it,
And requested a separation from her soul
But while separated,
He felt inner chaos create
A bubble of destruction inside him
The foolishness of abandoning her
She had given him a love
Which he had thrown away to the wind
He developed a backwards gift of chaos.
And she wasn’t around anymore
To give him a profound, natural love.
Dislocated fingers (Twisted Death)
Fingers that dislocated around different times of death.
Fingers that bled and fell off, contorting the deaths of others in their appendixes.
A death, twisted with no proper burial.
A death, twisted with no recognizable body.
A death, longing to have its body destroyed, wanting to escape.
The fingers broke and squeezed
The remnants of death
None of the deceased had ever gotten
Their hands were decapitated.
Acid Rain (Pain Reflection)
A burning rainfall,
Stinging with memories
A stinging rainfall,
Burning with a memory that infected who it belonged to.
Burning with the contempt of others,
Seeping into the system of who had remembered it.
Like a strong infection of plague,
They were destroyed from the inside
By a force of disrespect
A force of a plague
Spreading the epidemic all over the rainstorm
As the town was quarantined with rainwater
A long woman walks through the streets
Trying to avoid the rainwater
As her brown hair, thrown over her left shoulder,
So soaked in rainwater
She is immune to the plague.
Somehow, she has learned how
To fight against contempt.
She smiles to herself
A tight smile of respect,
Proud of who she is,
And leaves the town.
Reflections of pain
The rainwater was a failure
To touch her
Lowered into a resting place, a luxury grave awaited her.
Bright and reflective, a sun could be seen in this summer.
A funeral, attended by herself, as she lowered herself in the coffin
Without a regret of death
She felt no sorrow or pain
As she accepted her death
And let herself die in gold
Her body matching the casket she had decided
To sleep in
Under a Gold Grave (Luxury Dirt)
Under her gold grave,
As she slowly felt herself
As she felt herself go,
The expensive dirt that was home to worms,
Served as her pets on her journey to a
The gold let her forget her long life
Being buried in a bed of flowers
As a royal treasure….
Of all the days and nights that had passed her by.
Every night shined with her gold reflectiveness.
Her body was the light
Of these night days
Too long ago,
For her to forget.
As the candle burnt, a life was fading.
As the wick spent itself to nothing
Something’s wick vanished.
As the wick stopped smoking,
A smoking body could be found,
Amid the wrecked and charred remains
Of a burned-down home.
Looking at a body with a goal in mind,
A female grim reaper let herself
Examine the body with her power-hungry eyes
Eating the soul of the corpse,
As she spit out the bones of a tasteless memory.
A vision of a fire gone wrong,
The woman reaper
Picked up the body
And left the scene,
Going to find the owner
Of the home.
Culprit (Happy Burning)
Filled with joy at the home being destroyed,
The culprit of the fire fled the scene,
Escaping in the sirens and havoc
Getting to a gas station,
He was robbed and shot by
The owners of the station,
Recognizing him as a soul
That had burned down the house that
Had previously been the station’s grounds.
He had no regrets.
He had burnt a family to death
For the hell of it.
He welcomed hell
Where he would burn.
Hell (Inferno of Souls)
The burning of those there….
It was a day and night.
The souls burnt to a crisp in a day,
To be revived at night as a whole body.
A terrifying fate
More intimidating than trying to prove there is an afterlife
Than the ones there
Flowing over a fire,
Roasted at a spit of flames,
Where they were charred and thrown
Into a trash dump
At the edge of hell.
Mosquitos fed on them,
As they soaked black colours of evil
Unto the trash’s heap.
Burning up in the Satan’s atmosphere,
He saw her among the dying trash heap,
Remembering he had burnt her crème-coloured body at a spit
Still in flames, her curves where ruined
A charcoal body,
Removed of any heaven’s paradise of gold.
Burn Victim (Rain Comfort)
Wandering out in the rain, he sees a world filled with a claim to take away him pain
Burning on the outside, his feeling on the inside help him to feel to sensation of rain
On his comforting body
The rained sky opens up
As a voice could be heard from the clouds
A woman’s voice, strong and deep, feminine and sweet
High-tones show through the clouds,
As she seems to give a wide smile to the burn victim,
Reaching down to touch him for healing pleasure
Lying on the grass, as rain hits down on him,
He feels his flames burn to a water’s crisp
Her speaking tone, powerful and loud with energy,
Is telling him he’s ok.
The rainstorm will heal him, so she says.
The rainstorm will be as powerful as her voice
As soothing on his skin as the femininity of her voice
She told him
She was right
The female speaking voice seeming to come from a goddess in clouds
Leaving the end of the rainstorm
To heal a burn victim on the grass.
The day begins.
The grass dries.
Colour of Spirit
Standing on nothing, he felt a spirit leave him.
Going away, the spirit went to a place
No even it knew the location of
A spirit, rejecting a colour,
That would have made it white.
Instead, accepting a colour,
That made it green.
Vines growing on its soul,
Who it belonged to could feel
A strange nature grow inside him
A strange force from so far away
Changing how he was inside
A contorting force,
Twisting his spirit in strange forms,
From a never-ending distance away
As the planet let the decisive spirit sink into it,
It rejected its colour of green,
Leaving a strange force of nature
To its owner,
Somewhere a never-ending distance
From a place of comfort.
A force was moving inside them.
She woke up to sounds of a burglary
The sounds of someone dying.
Looking around her home
To find her pet parrot shot dead.
The burglar noticed how scared she was,
But also noticed how naked she was.
Sensing her could fulfill himself,
Her put down his gun,
And put himself on her.
Screaming to escape, she refused to let him put himself in her gold-like body.
Her skin tone so soft
He just had an urge to.
He wasn’t a rapist
He just had no self-control.
Her soft, gold body had made a rapist out of him.
When she screamed and refused to let him put himself inside her,
He forced himself in her mouth.
But this young woman was not easy prey
He had made a mistake, choosing her home to invade.
Her teeth let him feel death.
As he detached from himself.
As he felt a bit of his soul
Chomp in half
He fell back,
Nothing left to rape her with.
In immense pain, he fell into her arms,
While she smiled and hugged him close,
Feeling his dying warmth.
Control of Sex
Lacking control of the situation
He found pleasure in making her
Lacking control of her
He found pleasure
In letting anger take control of her
Her place, under him
Was a crippling one
She was crushed
By a hopeless will
To live with him
To live without him….
That was a stretch
In the end, she did live without him
One day, she simply went off far
As she was his bottom,
He had been her top
She reversed the roles
By leaving him alone
She reversed her bottom
By wishing for him to see his controlling
At the top of her
A control of a bottom
The end point of pointless
Claw (Do Go Off)
Staying with her in a home, she requested he stay with her until the day was over,
A long time, to be sure.
Days, full of her strange claws.
Absorbed by an almost-golden body and the curves of her body,
All he wanted to do was stay, introduce him to his parents.
Waking up on day, he saw her beside him, a golden wallet in hand.
He didn’t think much of it.
She was only sleeping with it.
A week after, he saw her sleeping with a family picture of him-
His parents and him, looking, as it appeared, happy and content.
“Where did you get that picture? That was before I had problems with my parents.”
“Did you break-up with them?”
“No. Why would you ask me that? Where did you get the picture?”
“I found it.”
“In your home.”
A week later, more day had passed.
“Why do you have my wallet?”
No answer. She was asleep, the bare-golden curve of her hip a special sight of a lust.
He forgot why she held his golden wallet.
“Ok…. you’re hot.”
He hugged he hip close and kissed her.
A week later. His belongings…. Missing.
“Where’s my shaver?”
“I was using it to shave my legs.”
“Don’t you have your own shaver?”
“I may.” A strange smile.
A week later, she used her golden body to camouflage the wallet as she ran
Taking his money with her
Waking up that morning,
She wasn’t beside him.
“Maybe I should go. Walk off somewhere.”
“Away from my lady.”
He saw his haver smashed on the ground,
Destroyed on a bathroom’s tiles.
So much anger, so much violence to destroy it.
“She never loved me.”
His wallet matched
Her skin tone
As two lovers do
“Why didn’t he want me to go?”
She felt a warmth of her body, a gold wallet.
A memory scrap of him for company.
“I never loved him.”
“He was so generous to me.”
Her claw allured him to a nothing
He never went away, leaving her to survive.
Green Bullet (Nature Suicide)
A shot in a night, a tree was hit.
The young girl playing in it did not get out.
Slumping over the bark, her treehouse fell out of the sky
Upon hitting the ground, she lost her memories of it.
Something wrong on a nature’s ground.
Something where it was not supposed to be.
The blood of memories, soaking through a dirt.
A dirt, accepting and rejecting something it wasn’t meant to have spilt on it.
It was all through the night,
Before powerful eyes came and saw
What had happened in the backyard
As the tree died and left,
The young girl died and soaked
Alive, in the dirt.
Somehow preserving her,
But the dirt was all wrong.
A bullet had killed a nature
And stolen a nature from the ground.
Her dark eyes remained in a night
Satan’s Pitchfork (Devil’s Nightmare)
She bathed herself in blood, a substitute for a lack of running water in her shower.
It was wrong. She should have used water to bathe herself. It was so wrong.
But she did not know what she had killed to get the blood.
Showing up at her doorstep, a package with body parts in it, freshly squeezed juice in each limb.
Figuring it was a good use, she cut the blood out, and soaked it in her bathtub.
Although it felt weird at first-slimy and thick-she soon got used to it, slimy bathwater she grew
An hour later, a very, very long bath. Her crème skin was renewed and a perfect soft.
Out of the tub, drying and washing off the blood off her with the water in her kitchen’s sink, she relaxed on her
Living room’s couch.
A red towel was wrapped around her for comfort.
A few knocks on her front door, as she was drifting to sleep.
Blanked half-out of consciousness, she wondered if the knocking was from a dream
She was experiencing.
Answering the door,
Satan was there.
“Hello? Can I help you?” She crossed her long legs, a right leg over a left,
As she put a hand on her right hip, leaning on the doorframe of her habitat.
“Something wrong was delivered here.”
“Oh, that. I already used it. Sorry. You’re too late. Did you need help with anything?”
As she talked, her left arm moved in gestures.
“No. I wanted to sacrifice those.”
She didn’t understand who this man was. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t know. Are you going to heaven?”
She shrugged, a hand digging into her curved hip. “I don’t know. I don’t think much about that stuff.”
“It’s alright. You’re not. So you know me.”
“Oh. You know me? I don’t know you.”
“Are you saying you don’t know of my existence?”
She shrugged. “Am I…. supposed to?”
Glancing subtly at her body, he thought it a shame someone who looked like a goddess wasn’t going
To a place a goddess would thrive.
“That’s what I feared…. Huh…. Never again will I come to see you.”
“Huh?” Her questioning response. “Ya…. Why are you here again? I don’t wanna sound rude.”
“No…. it’s nothing. Enjoy your blood.”
“My blood? Did you deliver those to me?” He was already walking away.
“Hello?” He had walked far away from her. A spot in the distance.
She shrugged it off. “Oh well. He was weird.”
She felt a strange stomach pit, as it started
To rain outside
The goddess closed her windows
She lay down on her living room couch to rest
Amid the soothing sounds of pouring rain
And a goddess fell into her hell.
She had bathed herself in a pitchfork
Dark Escape (Sacrifice)
A light at the end of a tunnel
Her dark eyes saw
A hell, vast and full.
Her dark eyes saw it all
Over a mountain of flailing corpses,
She found a light
Buried under death
A bright sun, as she held it in her hands
And gazed at what this hell had been lacking.
To bring herself back to life, she set the light of a sun
To float over a dark world.
A light that seemed to bring darkness
In wisps around it.
As she stared, with her dark eyes,
At the power the sun held.
A destruction of time, destroying and distrusting the world called hell.
The light of sun made no sense in a darkness, where she was punished.
Falling back to earth, she felt herself get crushed on impact,
A loud moan of pain from her assertive voice.
Coming from deep with her chest, her voice broke her throat.
Her heartbeat seized to pump.
Her blood flowed out of her, letting the spring flowers, bright and ready for nourishment,
Grow from her light.
A sacrifice a powerful goddess had made, for the good of the season.
The Whole Circle
When she started to slip
Remembering something hidden deep,
Untouchable by others,
The clouds of a passing day
Lost in a past
A protection he saw,
As he stood in the circle of the day,
Looking up at passing clouds.
He felt a hand reach out.
With no one there for him.
A protection, his to discover,
Lost to those who never cared to discover,
For him to discover,
And keep deep inside himself,
Protecting her from the outside world.
With his hands in the clouds of a day
That was so long forgotten by many,
He held hands with someone
In a whole circle.
The Half Circle
Holding a hand out, none was received back.
Holding a hand to find a peace, none was received back.
Negative thoughts remained, but a feeling….
A feeling of clouds, circling overhead to protect the thoughts from seeping through.
A day, that would pass to night,
Just as his thoughts would pass to something special, would pass to something reflective.
Blurring visions, held in his mind for him to keep.
A guardian of life.
A seeping of negative thoughts, onto the ground.
The clouds circled him in nowhere.
The ground was made
Of nothing of this planet.
Another half of the circle, a missing fate, came down from the clouds
To finally greet him.
A gunshot shot at dusk.
A poor soul walking, receives a bullet.
Walking his pet dog, he was so unaware of a problem.
When he felt a shot, he regretted everything that he had thought.
An empty bullet, full of holes.
An empty human, full of flaws.
An empty canine, full of a human’s flaws.
Weakness in a final moment.
Regret on a deathbed, before his pet died.
An empty skin, floating over bed.
The gunman ran away
And shot himself dead under a streetlight
She saw him with powerful eyes.
Night Dreams (Passing By)
One time ignorant to it, he saw a distant vision that day.
Some day in his future, the vision faced him
Absorbed into him, he saw clouds move in a past.
Everyday of his life, clouds moved and moved.
He couldn’t get used to them…. telling him how long a day had been…. How long a night had lasted.
The distant vision slowed down time for him.
He wanted to get nearer.
At night, he lay in his bed, thinking of a way to grab hold of it.
His solutions offered him false promises…. He laughed off a wishful-ness of thinking.
Impossible. He asks for too much.
He will never get his wish.
The days passed by.
Her felt himself grow older, by the day.
No where to put his energies…. his distant vision was just that: Too distant. Beyond a reach he could hope
The nights kept going, not caring for his wasting breath.
“Where will she end up?”
Lying fatigued on his bed, he saw the night moon outside, as he fell asleep,
And dreamed of the many glowing night moons before, half crescents hung in night skies so, so long past.
More nights lost to his emptying breath. He wanted to get away. Wander, and find his vision, no matter how distant it was to him.
So lost, he walked slowly though the night streets, hoping to find what he had been searching for.
Exhausted, he collapsed, having no success in finding his vision. “Where is…. What I seek?”
Back in his bed, many nights later, his breath had finally leaked out.
His body, though young, had broken apart and twisted, shattering dreams
At his own distress.
His face was simply expressionless…. he had nothing left to give.
The nights of each passing day continued, as the glowing crescent moons, same as the ones many, many nights ago,
Showed themselves in the night, at the end of days.
A pair of dark, female eyes watched him from the crescent moons.
A Need to Waste Time
Too much time to spend
A wonder if the time she spent
Had ever gotten her anywhere.
A sadness of dark…. whenever she looked into a night…. after a long day.
She lived for long days, the most rewarding of days for her.
A pair of power-loving eyes, able to accomplish anything she set her quick mind to.
But she couldn’t accomplish a feeling of wasted time.
One day, she set out to do just that.
She refused to have such long days, and her quick mind deteriorated.
She couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be doing as well
She couldn’t remember where she was supposed to be
She couldn’t even remember where she was
One day, lying while looking up at the night sky, she realized why she felt such sadness of dark.
“I’ve never slowed down a day in my life.” She said to herself, in a deep regret.
But that was not her. She was a quick thinking, often living fast-very fast. Her quick mind, so used to a long day with so much done, had simply begun to deteriorate.
A slow day was not for her. Too much power from her, power growing by the day. A slow day
Was a mistake
In her bed, she felt her mind deteriorate
As it broke-down herself.
The next morning, she would think quick again.
“I want it to be a long day.”
“I love long days.”
The rewards at the end of the day shone in a night sky from them on, day after day she was alive.
She felt an uplift-ness to the night’s dark….
A re-affirmation of the rewards of the days she spent alive.
Her quick mind and growing eyes of power
Were made for long days
Once upon a time, there was a boy who worked because of something special
He held dear to him.
Though he tried and tried, his accomplishments meant nothing to him.
Who he held dear didn’t care about him.
He would drip pieces of himself out unto the pages he wrote,
But it was worth nothing to anybody but him.
He would drip himself out into what he wrote, imaginative and vast.
But a worthiness of nothing was the result. He couldn’t bring himself to achieve what he dreamed off.
A dream had already left him, flying away, as it left him to go live her life.
So, what’s the reason behind his dream?
He doesn’t know.
His dream flew away.
She lives, somewhere out there.
The sadness of a life that lived, a long, long time ago.
In a beginning, there was only one who lived.
In an end, there was no one who lived.
A progress of life, a failure of living. Pointlessness in its most profound form
A final revelation
There was nothing after.
Flowers of Nothing
A dying flower, absorbed into a world with ego,
Where the ego ate at all the world mustered,
Until finally the ego ate the world.
An ego of a black heart, cold without love.
Something ate at why the heart was so dead, destroying the insides
An ego crushed by the flaws of the one
Who possessed it.
A manipulation of the people around them,
Into believing they were something
They knew in their hearts they were not.
Laughing at consequences of actions,
Believing such things to be a failure of
The believers of karma.
One day, their foolishness had what they cared about
Soon, or far in their future.
They were crushed under the weight of their neglect.
Lying face-down in a ditch,
A hand from a young woman, with Japanese features and a pair of all-seeing eyes,
Reaches down to grab them
From their prison.
Disgusted they are being helped, they resume a position
As the enemy of humanity.
The young woman with the huge, all-seeing eyes looks at them
As she accepts their hatred,
She lets them drown in it,
In a pit and a pity, they dug for themselves.
The Journey (A Star at Night)
A shooting star in a night sky,
Fell to a ground,
Where hills created a valley
That ran along a death of a day
With a rain having stopped at night,
The child with wonder-filled eyes,
As dark as the night itself,
Looked up at the starry sky with wonder.
A gray star, in the sky, a rock of pride,
As she hurried to collect it from
This day’s night.
A night stone, a pebble, gray with life in the dark,
As it fell
Into her golden hand.
When she went to bed,
She kept it close with her,
As to not forget
The memory of the rock.
As the day faded,
A dawn began.
A night was lost to a long time,
But when she became a young woman,
Full with flesh,
The little girl looked at the
And it reminded her
Of the memory of that night
She had gone outside to see the night
With her parents
A star and her went on a stony journey,
From a long time ago,
To a long time from then.
Her eyes grew wide….
At the appreciation of that night.
Waking up under a tree,
He sees his beloved next to him
He scrunched his hands in them, digging inside her
She squeaked as he slowly killed her,
Not knowing how this day, a past he longed to forget
Would remain in his future
A survivor that didn’t
Understand the guilt of what he had done.
Her malformed body lay bleeding out
As her skin followed
What was once so tasty, decaying
And crudely soaking
Into a rough patch of grass.
He screamed and died at the sight.
His beloved lover malformed herself in his hands….
He had wished to show her
A caring nature.
Bright Green…. Dark Black
When she hit the ground, her green eyes
They shook shock into the night
A night of green and black, a night of lively
Eyes and a
Darkness of avoidance.
Another pair of eyes…. More memorable than the
The ultimate of all
The young woman who those eyes belonged
To was dead and remembered.
A hand of a presence came
To claim the bright-green eyes of
As the dark, huge eyes
Soaked into the moisture of
From the night
Confused why she had died
The woman the power eyes
She simply lay there
Where she wondered
What it would be like
To have bright-green eyes
Her memorable birth….
That was a long time ago
Naked on a Street
A spring wind, full of a wind to make houses remember themselves,
Dancing through time.
A girl, wearing only her skin, swaying through streets.
Her nearly-gold body a memory of the world.
Her nearly-gold body a memory of what
Had once made up her life
As she danced and swayed, feeling a spring breeze on her body.
The sidewalk of the neighbourhood
Warmed with her life
Her near-gold body warming a cool air
As spring changed
And the girl just went away.
No longer walking the streets,
Her nearly-golden body had forgotten her house,
And moved elsewhere,
She would never see these streets again….
A change had to happen.
A Bright-Green Grass
In a sadness of bright-green,
His reflections shone on the grass
Reflections of somewhere far, a place
He had wished he had been
In the sunlight of grass, he saw reflections
Of a time he barely remembered, a time he hardly thought he knew anymore.
It was a sad time, filled with reflections
A figure of a woman, full of tears, crying at her regret
Of not being able to
A shining memory on grass, filled with light,
Lacking a will to live
But a shining sun gave her hope
Of finding him
As the summer preserved her,
He looked down
At the grass
And wept himself out
How a summer creates a memory of sorrow for him
Skipping a pebble over the air,
There was nothing to land on.
A sad pebble, lacking a home to go back to.
A sad pebble, thrown to nothing. Wanting to land on what it faced,
But unable to move to any ocean,
With a beach it was supposed to
The pebble was,
In a way,
Nowhere to land, nowhere to live
Eventually, a young girl,
With her soft brown hair
And crème skin,
Found the pebble,
After a wind carried it
To her town neighbourhood
On a street’s road
Years later, as a young woman,
Something about the fake pebble made her
Cry with sadness
Like she was crying as a little child…. A childish way
The pebble’s death had forgotten its
Another part of the world,
Someone tossed a pebble in a sea,
The impact splitting it in half
Floating down to a depth it was not used to
It came to terms with death,
And gained natural immorality in a natural habitat
From what it faced everyday
The pebble felt very real, so real
The young woman, who found
A fake pebble
…. Her dark and powerful eyes couldn’t
See a real death
Paw (Don’t Go Off)
The Rottweiler ate the Chiwawa
Taking small bites, as the dog spilled away,
Screaming and crying for its fragile life.
A wave of sadness, water produced from the Chiwawa,
Splashed on the Rottweiler,
Knocking it to sea.
Swimming afloat on the waves,
In struggling to not drown,
A weight weighed it down.
When his master had let him be,
She had looked at him
With dark eyes and said to him:
“Don’t go off and eat what you’re not supposed to.”
A powerful, assertively feminine voice, even he-
Felt himself attracted to.
He got hungry, and ate a stray
Who had left its home
In search of a better life.
Fleeing abusive masters
Who treated their pet
Like an undignified animal.
Her Rottweiler felt a horrible stomach-ache.
He fell under the waves of the sea,
Drowning on his food.
“Don’t go off and eat what you’re not supposed to.”
Under a wave, a Chiwawa’s paw splashed
Forget (A Vision’s Lapse)
When a sense of blackness crept over the planet,
No one was affected
But visions that a certain mind held dear.
Forgetting what mattered most to them,
They fell into a dark hole
Where no hands could pull them out
Staying there for a large part of existence
Untouched by darkness
When the visions began to remember themselves….
Pushing away a darkness.
Remember (A Vision’s Filling)
Shooting through the air, the visions that had been forgotten
Emerged out of their dark pit.
Surviving as they thrived, they fell into a light of the world,
Destroying what had forgotten it below.
A girl picks up a vision,
Noticing its colour with her dark eyes
Huge eyes that stretched out on her face
Like a vision of a goddess.
Noticing the colour the visions are filling with.
Looking at them in wonder,
The young woman with a flesh tone much like that of gold
She lifts the colourful visions
Back into the resting place
Of her colourful mind.
As her experiences play….
One final time
Rain Reflections: Part 1 (Male)
Floating above the city, he sees reflections all around him
The reflections of memories, floating in the glass of the skyscrapers
The reflection of pasts, floating below on the streets and roads
The streetlamps, pouring light to form reflections in a circle….
Of other parts of the planet
In the glass of the buildings, a memory sticks out
A memory of gold and silver, representing forgotten times of wonder,
So long past.
Remembering times that could have been gold or silver….
Such cherished memories.
A night, where the glass showed the memories of nights before.
Nights he didn’t remember…. Reminded they had passed…. In the glass of his home city
A place he had lived all his life…. a place he had forgotten how to live in.
A spiral of light from a streetlamp, carrying a light of a past in it.
A past that shone a summer’s light, an outcast in this night’s reflective glass
Of a darkness day.
A reflective glass….
He had problems seeing anything that meant something to him
In its reflections
Rain Reflections: Part 2 (Female)
She floated to the city of glass,
Seeing her reflections in the glass mirrors of the cities
Looking over the side of a building she landed on,
She saw the pool of wet visions below her
Spreading out all over the landscape, glass with memories played
Holding meaning to her, she watched them intently
She had forgotten most of them
She had no use in her mind, for most of them
She had walked away from most of them
But she was reminded of them in an instant.
A flash of colour, presenting life into her mind
She saw a birth that was hers.
She saw a death…. Hers. A death, covered in smoke and darkness,
Unsure what it looked like.
As she tried to see what the glass of the building held for her,
The smoke covering her death was removed
What she saw
Was a bright array of colours
That created a rainbow
Leading to a glass panel
Where his memories were playing
A rainbow that swept into his mind,
Possessing him with
Her colour flowed
Through his mind to the glass
As he acquired
Her thoughts of her past
She had spread
In a rainbow
To come give his memories
A deep meaning.
A deep meaning
No hand but his could feel.
A deep meaning
She had resolved
To feel with him
A hand reached out the rainbow
Memories of the glass building
Showed through a rainbows arch
As their visions combined into one whole
A whole that bonded their city together
Her and he stood in the air,
Floating amongst a rainbow
They took hands
And wrapped a rainbow of long-lost visions
Thought to have been forgotten
Around her and him.
A Ticking Clock
A clock ticks