__I watch her laugh. I cry hello.

Small talk zips over my head

_____like hungry green flies

But I don't let it show. 

__Her smile is sweet-sugar spun from the sun,

And I realise just how much I miss the night;

_____That I don't fit into this life

of light and racket and fun. 

__They tease and banter and shine,

Whilst I bleed close to death

_____All the while donning my mask

And playing the part of being fine. 

~~~~~

Inspired by Pancake's previous poem.  

Run, run, run,

Away from your fears

Run, run, run,

Far from your tears;

Break free with speed

Unknown to even yourself--

Escape on your way to

Retaining your sense of self.

Here's a poem generator acrostic

Dismal phantasms exorcise.

Apparent evils ail.

Restless longings urge.

Known eternities shred.

Numerous shades protect.

Eerie daydreams shadow.

Sweet solitudes echo.

Strange places put.

this is my attempt to capture the feeling I get listening to "Master and a Hound" by Gregory Alan Isakov.

i feel like one amongst the stars now, on this rooftop where a special kind of sadness was born-

a melancholy that tells me about the ice cream cones and swing sets and friendly days of the past

and knows how precious these things are, that i could have had them

and tells me that i can never go back

it's the nostalgia rising in me as i look on these vignettes of a different life that i never had

and it's the vastness of these very skies i see;

speckled and humble and bruised, unknowable and familiar, singular and infinite

that i could so easily lose myself in if not for the hope for the unknown

for if i want to see this view ever more often, i must let the feeling grow. 

Blind men beget blind systems,

But who turns to blame them

When the world crumbles of their own doings?

Enshrouded in dark and mist and foolishness

How thereto shalt a path forward be paved,

With weary minds and cloud-boggled brains

Who long ago have lost all heart and hope?

Scrub yourself of Sea's sweet salt,

Liken yourself once more to an aloof cloud,

Broken, detached from the world below

All whilst wondering if on the sphere that is the world

How can one -- especially someone such as yourself--

Ever truly be above any other?

Perhaps instead, you are far, far below.

But no, everyone know the Sea is below

And since you are not with her-

...Well, you must be deep deep under, then; 

So far your voice can never reach,

So distant your breaths will touch never again.

And although near-unbearable

You devote your vapid days to glistening thought --

Fantasies, memories, wishes of a future never to come --

And all the while others will look on

With their morbid eyes; envying, admiring, questioning.

Little could they ever know the magnitude of your sorrow.

Never do those hypocrites see the wistful longing in your eyes,

The effects of this torture they've forced upon you.

So you may live as a distant cloud,

But your mind and body are yet still of your beloved Sea.

i like making creepy prophecies hehe

beware the night when the red star shall rise

hiding in the shadows are watching eyes

the red star brings chaos, the red star brings death

all must seek safety, if there is any left.

fight for your life when the red star appears

the night of doom is drawing near

when the blood star comes, so will the end

the beast of fen shall rise again. 

Oh dali, it's safer here, innit?

Away from those venomous blade and switches

They brandish with their tongues,

Where your words are twisted into knives

Pointing right back at yourself

Within those shadowed chalky halls they call home --

They don't deserve that pure colour;

No, they taint it with their demoralising rot. 

Here we are safer, 

Kept in a sturdy keep -- a fortress.

But alas, nothing in life is perfect

And the only way to stay safe

Is to lock oneself up in a cage,

Safer, but bound in chains others might call freedom,

One they'd mock you for complaining over. 

I swallow my bitter laughter,

For how is that prison any different

From the one we allowed our minds to fall into? 

Such an insidious reflection, innit?  

What ever lies so dear and precious

Between these prison bars, I wonder.

it rained last week, 

a freak rainstorm interrupting our endless summer, 

and I cried. 

I wonder if there's a greater gift than 

waking up to the steady beat of rain, 

the clean, earthy smell, 

and every window in the house flung open to let out the heat.  

I stood outside,

and let it wash my salty tears away, 

the sticky sweat, 

and the scent of sadness that's been clinging to my skin.  

the storm didn't last long, 

as storms here never do, 

but it blew in some cleaner air, 

some cooler weather, 

and, maybe, a little bit of hope.