Sometimes I let myself pretend
that it's just a shadow;
then that same darkness moves over me
and I recall that
it is light incarnate,
the soul of the sun,
and I am but a particle
in its universe.
120 Seconds - Results!!Winners120 Seconds - Results!! by BurdenedHearts
and the results are finally in! Thanks to everyone who entered this competition was hard work to run and judge but totally worth it to hear people talking passionately about things they care about! The winners are...
In the GLOBAL category...
In the PERSONAL category...
pupillaeIt was only two months ago when you had the procedure. You can no longer remember why. You know only that you must have liked the idea of your eyes tasting shapes. You had money. Maybe that was all the reason there ever was.pupillae by Atheshya
For a month, your life was normal. Your brain was still learning to process the new input. Sometimes you would vaguely taste oranges when sitting at your computer. Or catch yourself thinking that the letter O seemed sour. Or avoid a restaurant that served food on oval plates, because some ovals taste like bad coffee.
You can't pinpoint the day you first spent over an hour staring at squares. You had not meant to. It was just, they tasted kind of like cake, but like a better cake than any you'd ever had. It was hard to pull away.
Nor can you pinpoint the day you first threw up at the sight of a 32º angle. It tasted like urine and skunk. You are today afraid you will encounter another
The PlaylistOne of the things I always liked about Sonama was their rooms weren't clinically cold. None of the stark white cabinetry and walls I saw at other places I had checked out. While they all used the standard beds and plants, Sonama felt more natural. Like stepping into the guest room at a quaint bed and breakfast, with warm textured walls and overstuffed duvets surrounded by small floral print curtains. My room had colorful quilts piled on top of an antique armchair besides a mirrored dresser, with stuffed bears and quirky knick-knacks crowded into all four corners. The plants and flowers were real, too, and you could smell their freshly watered soil, although they did little to mask the strong scent of over-bleached sheets.The Playlist by safia3
I didn’t mind that, though.
I always loved the smell of bleach. It reminded me of childhood summers spent in the swimming pools at the bath and tennis club, diving for quarters and playing Marco Polo, splashing and screaming amid a sea of agitated adults. And th
The realist must explain why he dislikes sleeping-Just visualise; from being pillowed in reassuring solidityThe realist must explain why he dislikes sleeping- by Lollip0p33
everything at once becomes water, and you’re
drawn back under the hollows of your eyes –
slipping beneath the sheen of exposed consciousness
(a trembling softness on the surface of the sea)
to a pulsing blur of fragmented visions –
a twinge as the dam breaks; your tides of subconscious
loosen and mingle: rationale dissolves like sandstone
under the massing flood, smeared with distortion –
the ocean lives around you. A plethora of colour
wreathes between your ears, stewing and coiling,
sunk into the thickening smog of insanity –
to the vulnerable depths you have long
learned to fear, and your breathless hallucinations
mark a world buried beneath all your logic –
for even on waking, lightening, the rose-glazed dreams
still seep through your irises, and the world glistens
with the false glamour of drizzle-tainted stone –
even on waking, lightening, the cloying waters
swell within your lung
♥ Beautiful, beautiful work. ♥
BenedictionsGod joined a monastery
somewhere in Europe, where
the churches are old
but the people are older
still, overlaid hands sodden
with faith and speckled with dust.
He rose before the sun and prayed
to Himself nine times a day
among his brothers of the cloth,
who mumbled psalms into the palms
and knew they were heard.
Five Rooms--C.There's a hiss in the way you inhale the lies I'm trying to feed you as I lay beside you in the dark. "This was nothing, nothing, nothing," but we both know the distant rumbling are the bricks we tore down around each other grating back into their places and honey, let's be honest, okay? If this was nothing, we wouldn't keep coming back for more. If this was nothing, the walls of five motel rooms would have no stories to share.
Her eyes are a lion's in the dark, eager and cunning and eying my sweat with an intoxicating hunger that keeps me swimming across the tundra to meet her in the darkest places. We navigate this concrete jungle that is both home and prison, breaking glass against grating brick and forging fire from our ashes. “This is nothing, nothing, nothing,” but we both know that pain can be the greatest antagonist.
There's a scab peeling off the wounds of my words and I know if I dig a little deeper, if I snarl a little louder, if I push you just a little farther
How to Be AloneStart with the range of stars
that lie the perimeter of heaven.
Segregate them, light years apart until
only the faintest drop of light
ekes its way through the cracked dark.
Know the space around you.
Miles and miles.
The steel beams of forever
wheeling like a dust cloud.
ImpulsePeel back the flesh;
McCallMost of all, I remember the sound of the breeze and the quake of the aspens. I remember drifting off in a sleeping bag in a meadow encircled by trees, the moon bright overhead. The shadows of the trees lengthened in the evening light. I forced myself to stay awake—I watched for falling stars to wish on.
I should have wished to stay young and in the meadow. My mind slips back, to when my biggest worry was whether or not they’d serve Jello for lunch.
But that’s making too little of life back then and too much of it now. The last summer I visited the meadow, I was stepping off into a new adventure, life as an adult, a life I dreaded. Now I look out upon a life shrinking as I draw into myself, waiting to grow older.
I stop at times, again hearing the soft wind rustling the meadow grass. I’m out of the city for a moment; I’ve stepped outside of time. I’m 20 again, looking up at the sky, watching for a star to wish on.
AntimattersThe sky is saddened
And so am I,
Inside my mind,
That of which
If I dealt with
I would disappear
And unravel instantaneously
At the seams.
I know not of the sickness
That plagues me
But it is very well
For through these eyes
It or they is or are
I'm not myself
We're torn in 4
Our antimatter selves
Wanting to knock upon
And to let them in
We would disperse
Into ashes along the
Wind falling to the earth,
Does not perceive
Such a thing
But rather so,
Harder to maintain
Encountering such a
Problem would leave it
Broken, unseen, and insane.
I could not cope
Long enough to float
Our boat of happiness
So we let it go as
I waltzed through the forest,
upon our departure
I believe I left something
In the abyss between
White lines of sidelines
Falling, tumbling, struggling
Down the swift force of
The or of a stream,
Whatever it was we
Until I awoke the next morn
Beside of you
We glanced and
Funeral PyresShe was on fire
Her body lying in state
Flames licking her everywhere
Sparks flying off
And leaving scars
On their souls.
I was burning out
My body lying in wait
Flames fighting for air
And leaving marks
In their minds.
We shared dangerous secrets:
Down to ash
In a brilliant fireworks display
While I continue
The flame deep within
Not ready to die out
Not brave enough to explode
to live on.
The Voyage into DarknessThe dusk, black sky was suddenly illuminated by numerous flames above the city, spreading far and wide as they floated into the distance. Erini lay on her back at the edge of the fountain, where one would normally sit around, looking at the lanterns float away from her. At least they didn't float to her. Erini then dreamily outstretched arm as if she was reaching towards these flames, trying to catch them almost. But instead, she opened up her hand revealing a black feather and simply let it drop down from her hand. As it nearly landed on her torso, a light breeze suddenly swooped it up and carried the feather along with it away into the dusk, where it disappeared.
Erini sighed as she watched the feather slowly disappeared. She was done for the night in her attempts to earn herself money and get herself some food and the like. Now, she wasn’t quite sure what she would do. Roam the streets? No, she would look like some beggar, although, she admitted she already looked like one. As
The Inner Workings of FateLike violins in discord.
Like clumsy fingers on
We stumble through life.
And only by
tracing our steps
do we find the parallels.
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