Anyone here write? Or just like to read? Share whatcha got.
And to all the people that say something along the lines of 'OMG U RIT POETRY GAYYZZ'....fuck you...gain some character depth.
Here's some of mine.
#1
All around you webs are spun, so intricately spawned; engendered by motives so selfish, it traps all that is aware in of it's presence. Deceptive to the eye, all fall prey to this growing ambition; this labyrinth augments to sizes not once conceived, accommodating the universe in which it resides. It's cause becomes excessively extensive; this small fiber jungle exceeds it's own existence. Decrepit strands slowly wear; it's own prey undoing it's intentions. Amplified magnitudes once uninvited destroy; crushed by it's own design.
#2
This room so shrouded, everything hidden by the contaminated air. This poison fills every crevice of this desolate nightmare; every pore of my these blackened lungs, mimicking that of this envenomed mind; sinister thoughts take over; cancerous, replicating with no end in sight. The smoke generating from it's bright sunburst, so small yet so powerful; echoing visions of it's user, so insignificantly small, but with a passion endlessly raging inside. The smoke pouring from the inferno wisps so elegantly, wrapping about itself trying to take hold of it's undefined ends; it's dance of death so entrancing to the eyes. Art so fluid hypnotizes me, as beautiful and destructive as a supernova. This room is my Eden; my promised land. With every breath my life grows shorter; a holocaust of cells at the expense of this precious death manifest in objectified form. In this accelerated end I selfishly revel in the personal spectacle before me.
#3
The faux reality of the environment was shown in all clearness.That is the wonder of the mirror;
showing what we believe to be reality, when this is all but impossible. A mirror is a shard of glass, that surly cannot show the world for what it is. A mirror takes a snapshot and reverses it; this is what a mirror does to the human psyche. Seeing ourselves from an outside perspective; no longer a person of thoughts or soul, but a shadow puppet of a master being; an object subjected to it's own reflection. Seen from the outside, we no longer have insides. We are things. This is the wonder of the mirror; taking our loves for our obedient reflections and turning ourselves upon us intrinsically; the the slave in the mirror transposing it's thoughts about it's creator into the minds of the person no more of a person then the object on the wall.
#4
Wasting away,
underneath a single light.
This place too familiar,
wind blows specks of white.
I exclaim: "Oh dear light,
please find me a path!
From such great heights,
please answer my plight!"
The street echoed silence,
but from my own mind,
comes a distant voice,
whilst the wind still whined.
I did not know it,
but the answer was near,
stay under this streetlight,
the answer will be clear.
I asked it again,
"please find me a path!
Help me escape
weathers intolerable wrath!"
Again no response,
but that voice still spoke.
Intangible words,
wisp away into smoke.
One last time,
I gave it my all.
"Please find me a path!"
To the bright light so tall.
Silence again,
this is pointless I thought.
All these questions unheard,
to the answers I sought.
But now I knew,
the answer was clear.
No answer because,
my path remained here.