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Rain Reflections by Robert Garcia - HTML preview

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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

She saw

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

Her way

A raindrop

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.



The Fingers



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.


Death fed.






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 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


He realized


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


Proper 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



Gold Grave



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,

She lay,

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


Dark place.


The gold let her forget her long life


A princess,


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


She remembered.



Too long ago,


For her to forget.



Burnt Candle



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.


Laying dying,

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


More scary


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


When away,


Leaving the end of the rainstorm


To heal a burn victim on the grass.


Sun approaches.


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


Of space


From a place of comfort.



A force was moving inside them.



Forced Entry



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


Control it


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.”


Walking away,

Naked outside,


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


To love.



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


Came back.


A protection he saw,


As he stood in the circle of the day,


Looking up at passing clouds.


He felt a hand reach out.


A protection,


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


To grasp….



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

Taken away.


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


In sorrow.


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

Gray pebble.


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.



Caring Nature



Waking up under a tree,

He sees his beloved next to him


Her crème,

Soft skin

Letting his




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

Its decay.


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

Green eyes

The ultimate of all

Memorable eyes


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

A night

As the dark, huge eyes

Of power

Soaked into the moisture of

The road

Somehow remaining

From the night


Confused why she had died


The woman the power eyes

Belonged to….



She simply lay there



Where she wondered



What it would be like



To have bright-green eyes



In birth.



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

Around her,

Changing direction,

As spring changed

To summer,

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….



How sad.



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


Of her


A figure of a woman, full of tears, crying at her regret


Of not being able to


Touch him


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



Pebble (Fake)



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


Live on



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


Natural immorality



Pebble (Real)



Another part of the world,


Someone tossed a pebble in a sea,


The impact splitting it in half


Upon sinking


In water


Floating down to a depth it was not used to


On land,


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


Long ago


…. 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-


Another species-


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


And raised.



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


Or crème….


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


High-rising buildings.


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.


Her colour flowed


Through his mind to the glass


As he acquired


Her thoughts of her past


Her visions


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


Of visions


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



Birth ends


Life begins



A clock ticks

























































































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