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They call him reckless, wild and free.
Drift above or beneath the tide,
He's lost yet grins at all he sees,
They call him reckless, wild and free.
Sail or sink where no trouble be,
He laughs where they thought fear must hide.
They call him reckless, wild and free,
His journey waits on either side.
Part 3 of Misty's Journey
It comes.
It crashes.
IT DEVOURS

The wind is a mouth, open, screaming, swallowing branches whole. It gnaws, it rips, it shreds through bark through bone through breath through us.

It does not stop. It does not stop. It does not stop.

IT DOES NOT WAIT

IT DOES NOT PITY

it does not pity

We run. We fly. We thrash we scramble we tear into the sky but the sky is no escape no escape no escape.

NO ESCAPE

Clouds choke air tightens we claw at the dark.

but the dark claws BACK

DO YOU UNDERSTAND

DO YOU SEE IT

DO YOU FEEL IT

The moon tries to flee but it cannot silver pale turns nothing turns void.

It VANISHES

IT IS GONE ERASED CONSUMED

CONSUMED CONSUMED CONSUMED

we tremble we break we FALL

But him.

Still.

Misty sits.

he sits

HE SITS

HOW

the ground tears itself apart the trees beg the sky SCREAMS

but HE SITS

delicate fingers press to splintered bark grazing it honoring it

what is there to honor

what is there to hold

what is there to praise

it is broken

it is falling

IT IS GONE

he breathes

HE SMILES

HE LAUGHS

soft warm impossible

floating through the air floating through the ruin floating through the madness that

SHOULD HAVE SWALLOWED IT AWAY SHOULD HAVE SWALLOWED HIM AWAY

why

why does he stay why does he smile when nothing else does

the ground breaks pleads the sky RIPS OPEN collapsing folding breaking breaking BREAKING

the end is here

the end is here

THE END IS HERE

IT COMES

IT TAKES

IT RIPS

IT TEARS

AND ALL THAT REMAINS IS BREAKING

except HIM

what does he see

what

what is left to praise

WHAT. COULD. HE. POSSIBLY. SEE


~~~   ~ ~ ~   ~~~

branches crack and fall
tumbling like reckless laughter
yet he calls it grace
Part 4 of Misty's Journey


Aevonance (noun) Pronunciation: /'eɪ.və.nəns/

Definition:  

1. The profound and timeless resonance of fleeting moments, wherein the beauty and significance of impermanence echo across memory and eternity.
2. The lingering presence of an idea, emotion, or energy, subtly influencing and shaping the course of existence through thought and feeling.

Example sentence: "Standing in the ancient ruins, Misty felt an undeniable aevonance, as if the voices of the past still whispered through the stones."

(I combined aevum and resonance because I like the juxtaposition of Part 1's meaningless syntactic barrage with Part 4's profound minimalism. Titles deserve some character development too.)
Sweetness like candy
One Savor at a time
Sensual whispers
Eyes that attract
Words of romance
Candles setting the mood
Closeness Love nice and smooth
Tender touch
Loving much
Heart pounds like a book chapter being continuous love
Kisses like a recharging battery
The talking in love flattery
Love holding steady
Vibes that extend
Love never wanting to end
True love with no pretend
Love at the chasing moment
Beckon call
True love says it all.
The sky is a graveyard of stars
Each one a scar from forgotten wars
I stare through the cracks in my broken disguise
Afraid of the dark, but more of the lies

An exhumation of my former self
Dug up truths left to rot on the shelf
Buried my heart in a casket of doubt
Now it screams from within, trying to claw its way out

Let the demons soar. Let them rise!
I’ve fed them too long to cut all ties
They circle above like vultures of flame
And whisper my sins while chanting my name

Can’t close my eyes, for it is where,
The devil hides in every stare
He waits in dreams with bloodstained hands
Building kingdoms on sinking sands

The people with the biggest smiles,
Walk the longest, loneliest miles
And I, I wear mine like a mask each day
Hiding the hurt in a world gone gray
 Apr 4 Soulless
kevin
george im irish i found the new old films again
for its not writing polish

they no complete ima poet 2nd gen from western ireland
the army general my brother retired destroys tanks with crazy gun

i fill up joyner lemons with black recipe tetas

but for chris lily the contraception of our lady of sorrows
in the santa barbara, need homeless proof of writing miracle
in corruption white

Chris no book of Eli he yo ****
Whatever
it'll never matter
it's just the way
things
turn out to be

but I can't sit back
when all I believe in
is under attack
it's not right
and not the way
It should be,

they'll say
that I'm a troubled child
and that I
grew up somewhere way out in the wild
but they'll say
what you want to hear from them

but It never matters as it never should
the only good things
come out from doing good
and I know
I always did
Thank you for the silence and storms
For teaching me love through all its warped forms
For every cold shoulder, for each raised voice
You gave me no comfort, but you gave me a choice

I learned how it feels to be small and unseen
To tiptoe through tempers, to swallow a scream
But in all the chaos, one truth grew bright
What not to become and what must be made right

You showed me the damage that careless words do
The weight of a promise that never comes true
But from broken pieces, I’ve built something whole
A vow to protect a much softer soul

My daughter won’t flinch when footsteps draw near
Her heart won’t be sculpted by shame or by fear
She’ll know that love listens, that presence is loud
That strength isn’t anger, and kindness is proud

So thank you for pain, for the scars, and the ache
They taught me the future that I refuse to remake
And though you won’t see it, or maybe you will
I broke the cycle with unshaking will

You taught me, by failing, what fathers must be
In her loving eyes, I’m healing the child in me
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