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Hold our lips. Locked onto running waves.We feel a noose wrappingour once-kissed necksbeneath gentlest sunrise,walking close,creating weathered footstepsin breaking earth. A late sound. A false cryabout to take on a smile.Some change in this sceneryhas stretched our gaze.We see ruins become messagesin their dust. Long rope. Longer tugto meet our death,while memories stayto dream in…
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Simple torture,bared exquisiteness.Laying there without a heartbeat.I have come, expecting a feast,while here you yield. You pause before this cliff,hoping our moon will fall,to drown an ocean into wide pale.I lift, while you siftthrough memories in onevanishing heart. Let your tears dropinto departing sunlight.Nothing quite quells your frightas rain being shed into light.Mixing torment with…
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Still, that moonfloats in a different hue,aside from something newshe grew to knowdown under cold clouds,in her rain and snow. I threwpales of winter’s freshwatersnowflakes. I drewlines in blank slates,applying sadness in circles,making dividesin deciding states. I want to keep nailingthat morbid cross, raising portraits,while destroying furniture.I desire herto lay herself down,to stay herself in…
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“Strength lies not in physical brawn nor masculine stupidity. Strength comes in this form of having control over emotions, where those emotions, if desperate enough, will take to all offerings of power that come in a desperate person’s lap.” – Modern Romanticism It must be considered that when a person happens to be desperate, it…
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Some labelsburn like echoes,while others are setas bricks to formhiding spaces, with moreshadows than curtains.Same withall heat from trembling knees.Same fortwo pairs of eyes, blinded tosimplest, uncurving love. We have walkeda tight rope, to experienceloss to our tears, nailed withstares, upon a cross.Our sin to sink,one fate close to a brinkhas us cancel hearts,holds us…
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I give these eyesto extensions, to third dimensions.I present this heart,held out on ropes.Your neck, bared for a brand.A touch of red against that palecanvas of starkness. To drown these eyes, to holdthis breath inside your breast.To loosen waves, words, stonesdown your throat,to make farewells, pledges, strengthour becoming methodto hide ourselves, surfaced. I weara great…
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“Out of how we can be better than others, we feel pride. Pride signals a betterment of us, over others, making it meant for an accomplishment. Even without the boast, we can speak of the betterment, of skills, as factual in understanding how pride becomes legitimated only on where it made a person, out of…
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Come around. Link arms.You’ll drown where we surroundinside reflections of our own masking.We bleed for all we leave,losing breath in all we undressin wounds that keep openingwith limbs that are folding. I find that weare never jealous in eachof those pairs of eyes,tempted throughout puddles,reflections we might have fumbledwhen we caught our heartsfrom stars to…
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There werespaces to move, to unearth youdrowned beneathan ocean of mourning’s dew.I pressed your hand, to resurrectlove at its waters,to meet what remains beautifulat this renewable glimpseat what stays plentiful. There were eyes to undressof their tears, upon their nakedfears, in words unconfessed.You have held in your rain,tasting what grows ingrainedas a bitternessinside your emptiness.…
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Another hourto remember, to recollecteach time you sweptthose pieces, overboard.All times, we spokeout from handfuls of dust,you rose, to hear,covered in rust. Carve those miles, ashore,blanket all traceswith faces we cannot adore.Some kisses splash backfates that we held intact.Some instincts of lovenever remove themselves,from idling glaciers. I keep roaming.I keep combingdesert trails, to discover youon…
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“Whoever claims to be in support of minority rights must also be in support of individual rights. Any greater-in-number minority supported, over an individual, becomes a support of a majority over a minority. If one cannot support an individual right, such as a right to bear arms, one can be disqualified of their credibility to…
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“If a gun can be controlled, who can say if it won’t also be controlled from being outside hands of those responsible enough to utilize one?” – Modern Romanticism A criminal speaks a singular language. One of fear. No criminal will remain a lion with bared fangs and claws, if this language can be understood…
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