#writers-creed

[avenueoverpass]

THIS IS WHY

A blighted shard.

Inside the soul;

Fragmented

into the prism fractured,

Where it strips

away starlight,

And moon glow.

Leaving only the darkness

Of an ocean with no reflection.

And the waves

Of a tide without a shoreline-

to dictate direction,

Cause a whirlpool.

Which pools the blood

- Starved for oxygen

From the heart-

Which drains slowly

As it beats -

Again and again

In the struggle for survival

Each beat bellowing

Against its own walls

Deflated

left empty -

With the echo

Ever resounding-

Resonating through the bones-

Said to encase it for protection -

Which now begin to crumble pervaded by the stench

Of rot

[driftwards]

Achelois

                                             Lunar moth,

                                              I was the echo of failed attempts-

                                                    to set sail in winters tide.

                                                        I gaze upon longevity-

                                                              to catch sea

                                                       & sleep on a bed of cherry quartz.

[nostalgicforthe1990s]

She was a bright girl. She knew what she wanted, and she knew exactly what she didn't. She was easy to know, but difficult to work out. Mature for her age, with bright - misleading eyes, filled with innocence; contrasting from the crimson red that constantly coated her lips. Sending mixed signals without even opening her mouth. A burning soul and a freezing heart - contradicting herself from inside out. She's a paradox. She's careless, but she cares all too much. A love that once filled her heart, leaves her aching and longing. A passion that consumed her, leaves her cold and distant. A smile that was once permanently etched on her face is now vacant, left hard and bitter, non existent.

I set myself on fire just to keep you warm.

[vibrating-heart]

'Someday' you spill out over lips tainted with false promises. You smile and I fall again. Again and again and again. Mapping out a future where this distance doesn't hurt. They say hope is the last light to go out. So,darling, I will hold onto your 'someday's and your 'I love you's until my heart gives in.

Isabelle F.

[driftwards]

c a t h e d r a l

                              Thy cusp-

                                   runneth meek,

                               drifting aimlessly through-

                                  black dust & angelic modules,

                                       & thy chamber?

                                      Broken, full of hymns.

[driftwards]

I cheater: rosebrain

                                   Irresistible hazing,

                              a sliver lining burning down a golden age

                          with hope hemmed of envy by a floating leech

                                       promiscuity follows wayfarers 

                                       & thou can’t speak.

[driftwards]

Lungphantom

                     Falling star thy chariot is discord-

                              strung upon orcas

                            & stolen blue flowers-

                                on the cusp of air.