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Journey ahead nine feet acrossThe tenth of a mile at a loss,While the buckles fall free from your shoes,As a sailor passes his life to the noose.Sing for the siren’s gambit – Falling into the emptiest hemispheres.While each for the eyes becomes frozenIn the other’s depleting stare.Falling during the last ray of sunshineDuring the days
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I Colors will drain from the open wound. Upon the carpet, upon the spaces where sunlight brought in from open windows is shown warmest, as these marks are left without memory for why or when they were applied. They just were, because colors can be left behind. Color-blinded, some people are, though not ever blinded
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“Look at me,” says the man, continuing to speak from his heart, “I’m always fighting for what will one day fade, always holding onto what will one day pass between my fingers. Why do I do this?” It was his mentor he spoke to, also his friend, also the one who is dying before him.
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Part One – Human Nature I To Define Order It is order that encompasses what does not, or should not, divide. A responsible person will understand order, since to divide oneself from it is forsaking what it means to earn freedom. To earn freedom is to be ordered of the self, then in comprehension that
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Among the waves,Tears collect, to recedeFrom the glass,From the mirror’s boundaryFrosted by breath,Frozen throughIn the silence of death. Among allCountless beats of a heart,Veins will shatterAlong withEach moment to matter. While eyes hideBehind the tear-stained hands,While one wilted formCannot standUpon a barren shore. Unable to see,Unable to breatheA second more,While the afterlifeCloses upon me. Naked
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“Were one be ready to move on, then the other will cling. Were both be ready to move on, then nothing ever occurred. Were neither be ready to move on, then this romance is true. Only within the third example, is a relationship ever something of truth.” – Modern Romanticism
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Touting the sea,Swindling my heart,Forming kisses out of starsYou will birth in a new archOf this love you have ached to see. I call my tearsBackwards, to the slopeOf my belittled cheek,For the stinging salt upon my eyesHave slept, to have settled. EruptYour sadness, into mercilessness,For you have cleaned the bloodFrom lips,Tasting the thorns. I
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“Who claims that love is a choice, other than those most likely to find betrayal of trust a fitting design over the area where one must be responsible? Choice has little to do with responsibility. When we are trusted, we are so because of our duties. Of duties that renounce the freedoms of childhood we
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“If a person’s salvation lies upon understanding who they are, then to the concept of perfection, we should immediately know it cannot be identified with. For at the heart of all beings, we are alike. Imperfect to know each other, and never perfect enough to withstand each other.” – Modern Romanticism
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Originally posted on Modern Romanticism: Bless yourself, Woman of the deep Of me. Your face has raindrops Suitable for consumption. Your aroma is taxing To my strength. I falter, I weaken Before your might. There is seduction in every word That leaks free From your parted mouth. I eclipse nothing of joy For your moment…
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Shadows scorn your eyes, Making you The puddles that surround your feet, Hurled there by your fingertips. Can the lashes Atop such a delicate gaze Carve out more than the fear in your face? For like dewdrops on blades of grass, They fall from the black. I am in needless Frailty, Whispering between the stones
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I am sensitive. Real sensitive. So… I have found out that caffeine heightens this sensitivity. Though, not in a good way. One cup of coffee causes my whole body to be in pain. I feel this agony in my chest, my abdomen, my lower back, and even my calves. Even my scoliosis begins to hurt,
Modern Romanticism 