lizard6745

living is ignoring expectations

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Literature

Death and Nothingness

How do you define "nothingness"? It's a strange thought that there could be another world or reign of existence we go to after our death, but the alternative is not strictly nothingness. If that were the case then after your death, from the perspective of the metaphysical plain you would have never existed in the first place. I couldn't explain what you will find after your death but I'm convinced you go back into the abstract. It's a collapse of your inherent reality rather than you being inside reality, going to either heaven (or hell) or nothingness after death — or something else entirely. We don't reside in reality but reality is de

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Literature

astrology.

i lost my cigarettes today while sparing kisses to too many witches with apastron blackberry tongues. & like the scattered stars of scars, saturn's rings whispered secrets to the telescope eyes of these strangers cradling galaxies between lovely bones- ( their fingertip heat knowing nothing of intermissions. ) -dp

Lit Poems

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Literature

The fundamental structure of reality

Have you ever pondered over the concept of reality? It seems most of us intuitively have an idea about what reality is but never really thought about it deeply. And why should we? For me discovering what reality is has been somewhat of a higher goal in life. I started valuing research into cosmology and the nature of reality higher than the personal things in life. In 2011 I was particularly obsessive with quantum mechanics and the nature of reality and I eventually lost myself in my quest. I haven't quite been the same since, and I suppose for this reason I want to share some of my findings and my theories about reality. A description of re

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astrology. by DearPoetry, literature

Shy moon, by DearPoetry, literature

No wander about it, just lust. by DearPoetry, literature

Call Me Cicatrice by intricately-ordinary, literature

Literature

Call Me Cicatrice

in a sloping curve, the scar covered his back like an indefinite symbol of defiance. puckered at the ridges, slithering across his shoulder blades, it was something special in the way it interrupted his skin /chronicle incomplete/ I reached out to touch it, he caught my hand "you always did find beauty in the broken." they always had more stories to tell. -- I was something inexperienced (but never innocent). I fell for his natural enjambments and inability to meet my eyes. he fell for the fact I was freshly born (but never young). -- our first kiss was under a sycamore tree that watched the world pass by. he said he wanted to

Palmistry by SilverInkblot, literature

memories by MiiSan, literature

Literature

memories

　　　Stars. So many stars I see right now up in the clear sky. I sit right here, alone, on the sand, listening to the sound of the waves, hitting the shore every moment, flooding it little by little. The cool wind was blowing through my long hair and my clothes and it felt just like a refuge from the hot feeling I had earlier while it was daylight, being in the middle of summer. 　　　I was holding few broken shells in my hand, playing with them a little while my mind was occupied with something else. While now, watching through the sky, a tune came to my mind. I used to listen to it pretty often few year

Monsters and Dreams and Red, Red Wine by blackdahlia911, literature

Literature

Monsters and Dreams and Red, Red Wine

There's this vivd beach that I occasionally frequent while asleep, the water is clear and a shade too blue but the creatures below are a sharky grey, there are monsters amongst the mist and so I make a circle between both hands, but the distance from the center must be 3.75 inches in order to work, and then I push my hands away from my chest and focus, breathing still, eyes closed, then the monsters melt into a slow red wine, spilling into the abyss until the fog, the water, and the wine become entangled with one another in a hazy painting of clouds and blood; in my dreams, I am always being hunted.

Summers Lost by poetic-headache, literature

Literature

Summers Lost

god died today. or maybe it was tomorrow. i can't remember. "ask anything." static skies; grizzled blue sketching down to sewer lines: like a wish on a dead star. the feeling of gritted teeth and fingers crossed until they break. shame tasted like a scalpel and a brick wall against my throat. and i was chewing concrete when i said, "it's okay." swallowing cinder blocks; stuffing steel under skin. sugar-sweet on my cheek, like book pages: "where have you been?"

One Way Ticket by SilverInkblot, literature

Literature

One Way Ticket

I have always known that I will die on a train. I used to wait for Death at the railroad tracks. Some days I would kick off my shoes and balance on the rails. Other days I would lie on the tracks and count the stars. He never came for me, but it's okay – I understand. I saw him once through the window of a passenger train, scythe leaning against the glass. He was reading the newspaper. He glanced up long enough to see me waving and offered a nod in return. I watched him go as long as I could, until the last car was a dot on the sun, and I finally turned away to find summer was now autumn and my shoes were full of dust. I crunched my t

The ocean and the night by brokengod--veins, literature

Literature

The ocean and the night

My songs were buried in sand, leaving entrails of corals that formed galaxies in the cerulean waves of the sea (thirsty nights of reefs where stars turned into the salt of the oceans in the heavens). And in those days, you were my conch shell. But I wasn't a siren, no- I was chipped glass that danced over rippled water finding a lullaby in the whispers crashing in the shores (whose echoes reach the depth of the stars in stark moonlight).

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