part 1 Realized and actualized, internalized and sentient: are the evil bodies that float within me really my own? Do I accept them as my own, or continue living as if I were good? Am I good? Prove it to me that I’m not as evil as my most evil thought. Prove it to me,…
Tag: poem
reality | poem
In my head, jumping from memory to fantasy, just to pass the time, just to keep me happy and alive. In my head thinking of the “what if,” just to pass the time, just to keep me quiet and alive, a brand new reality awaits me, like diamonds, like dimes, like some new old life…
bliss | poem
sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of their kiss, upon skin covered loosely in silk and satin. sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of the dewy grass under golden flats, the air smelling of crushed roses and soil. sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of the book that sits between knees, waiting to be read…
existence in a vaccum | poem
to be taken to a place, a mirrorless world, to say it clearly, a world devoid of everyone save for I. a place meant for me and the colors of my brain, where busy fingers cannot tousle my hair. the songs of the north and the south are deaf to me, the writings of the…
Age of Ages | Poem
Stone way of feeling Bronze way of reacting Medieval way of perception, rather how we are perceived, Industrial way of seizing (Did we miss something from how we felt and how we reacted?) What is our way now? It is: the expanding balloon of the human mind, the mind we all share if shared with…
crooked brain | poem
I feel it in my head it’s not centered it inches to the left maybe that’s why I feel so… Today I will try to center it. ~ Sammicakes
purpose | poem
not infinite, yet so vast the time upon us is uncountable and magnificent not entirely free to act on our own accord, but sufficient enough to progress never enough time, ability, or will to craft the desired vision of our person but in the constraints one can find purpose as in the murkiest of waters…
Plight of Obsession | Poem
the phoniest of flattery the most lascivious of lies the cacophony of coquettish ramblings: all are the plights of an unreciprocated obsession, not born out of love, but of rabidly ill intent. ~ Sammicakes
Cottagecore | Poem
Pheasants and finches sun-dappled meadows and delicate wishes fulfilled by the dream of self-isolation. Not yet nostalgic not yet the present but instead a dream idyllic that a more kind world would let come to fruition. ~ Sammicakes
Sonderlust | Poem
Visions of sonder that transpire down yonder traveling around the block again. Tip the man with his scuffed, cuffed pants, and wait until the moment is your friend. Sidewalks are busy, the yellow dresses and loose shirts dancing, while the wind plays a mellifluous tune. Night soon falls, all lilac and dark and still. And…
