Objects, and the Distance Between Them
Dreams, thoughts, and experiences expressed through poetry and prose
For you; yes, you. For us. For what comes next. "Flowers in the Snow" - Recorded 1/10/2021 - Auroraboros - Objects, and the Distance Between Them Broke crust; boot to Earth.In winter's step, new to grow.Descend to(o), sanctum deep.Observe: bones,Picked clean, long ago.Mid-day, sun gleam.Bright light, dark though. Bow now.Lit, torch.Cast toWhite glow. New ground.New … Continue reading Flowers in the Snow
They've entered your thoughts again, my dear, And by now I hope it's clear They've no interest in your best interest They offer nothing to you but fear. They've come to take what can be taken, To shake free what can be shaken, To pilfer while you're lulled to sleep, So my darling, please awaken. … Continue reading That You May Never Feel Alone
If you only knew That the horrors which bare their teeth from the shadows Bare them not Because they feel superior And because they wish to consume you, But rather, Because they are afraid And they are blinded By the light which you cast Into their world of only themselves, In which the natural light … Continue reading For Fear
Woke up tired So long So long ago Been so many nights Sleeping alone How many more Don't really know Just want to say Don't know what to say Wish it weren't this way Wish it weren't today I've been walking steady But I am going nowhere I've been getting ready For what? I don't … Continue reading Tired
Something real Something more Not just another name Another face Another way to fill The distance between the days The void within Consuming the essence of who we are Or were Until there is nothing left Nothing but the empty echo Of what could have been What still could be If only If only If … Continue reading Searching For…
"Me too" What a ruse These girls are just confused Smoke bombs with a short fuse And we are not amused Always one step ahead with a new excuse The way she was dressed she was asking to be abused Either that or she was just loose Either way it's nothing to lend credence to … Continue reading Me Too
Why Must time move so quickly As the days we once knew so well Become but memories Which in turn are made to be A sediment of sentiment Into which the roots of our blooming days are set Forgotten now for what they were Rather consumed and made new Though all the while, traces linger. … Continue reading Though All the While, Traces Linger
