What am I?

I took away the mountain top to give me a feeling I was tall
I also dug a deep hole that I always stare into.
Sometimes, usually around noon, I can see the bottom way down below
and it makes me feel tall and that makes me happy.

However, at night even though I sleep standing up,
I dream the mountain is even taller than before
and when I wake up in a sweat and run to the hole
it's too dark to see.

.

9/15/17 7:00 AM

many strange streams flow
through the landscape of the mind
some with less color less contrast
breeze less
to my body thoughts

of snails and claws
and the parts of me
that pay the tolls

others with a left behind lonely ruin
feel of someone who never learned to ask for anything
the rest filled with mountains
aliens
and air curved wakes
or when I become pregnant and give birth to a monster


.

to the tune of background radiation

i sat in front of
my brain
turned it on
and all i got was
static

.

contemplation of potential suffering

it's the waiting
it is the waiting
waiting in the context of
inevitability

and the (seemingly) only two ways to escape all that
I've forgotten

I know how hard it can be when you're not suffering enough


.

96 comments

MartyjustJnoM
can't wait till exorcist 3D comes out to get showered in vommit
youreinstall9112
sounds cool an no clean up best part
anon
I need a good splattering
anon
cant wait for 3D pea soup to catch in mouth and rub into my tummy yummy
criticalindecsivedisorder
too bad not for real though but close enough yeah I guess


.

making noises with your throat

The next selection  I'll share
like this, I hope

I look into my heart  
part of me

but I just can't express
my soul

that easily
yes to express
how I feel about

the words bursting out
but like they still all have thier secrets
thoughts  like being here it's
enough to just breathe

a smile
hearing thunder
then watching the rainbow's fading color


 .

number c741

thousands of overlapping words
wandering into the endless softness

numberless reflections

fading through a silver moon 

looking softly at the sky

and the moon thought about
dying
and getting hit by
an asteroid

.
.

the stinky poem

 a bloom of words from a
saturated tongue tickles
 imprisoned minutes


and in big grey puffs
I see the same abandon in the poem


sinking right in
curves across  my heart
the mights unrested
to even remembrances of a face
I never even knew


:l

The cubicle of seven threes

I promise
I am not here
to prove an ape.

Or to
tell you something I
heard waiting
to fall asleep

I forgot the rest


.









.

learning tennis

moving flesh
inside our hearts
coloring and
collecting like waves at the seashore


a heart can
draw the sky over
and in each movement
all I don't know is
happiness


..

The neighbor

My heart is a watch
that counts each sunrise
a miracle  here
there
tomorrow
as is said
at the tip of
eternity


I see I cant respond
because I'm trapped
all thumbs
sounds play
itches itch
but I don't know what to say
or what you're talking about
not because you're not making sense
but because I have a hard time following
stories

I admit when you step away
that was OK  but it' more than the sigh of relief
the sigh is the funny part
just a small part of why I know
this has already happened


.

.

joined particles

scraped
tattered  cut  and burned
incapable of holding  my heart in

secrets

and deep under there
sweet nature
so gentily spun
like the underside of shimmering gold
most certainly
It is impossible to think

.