who are they?

no wonder you are confused,

one step and they will get you used,

they are out there, almost everywhere;

mainly in a under ware, 

craving for your stares,

taken even upstairs,

flooded with summer rainy storm,

no time to escape home,

face features plummeted at dawn;

frozen and used effectively,

tearing your kidney, symptoms disappeared,

you knew it, confusion faded..

all of a misery, suddenly,

they got your heart out.

know them, feel them, heal them;

anyway, even unconscious by midnight, 

they are still your bloody feelings.

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forgotten..

Back in 1201, a war broken out between no one, a couple who slowly recognized that their  marriage was as if sliding over a cliff to a deep disagreement. They used to put each other down since they started their relationship nine years ago. A dark relationship with a nurse on a Friday night, no regret; no need to forget it, it is exhausting now on wards were Sky-high dreams and plans started fading, divorce loomed and looks possible before Christmas with the arrival of the first pregnancy.

As the couple spent years in disagreement, their only kid lost many chances to be at school. Instead, every spring he flees the house to the nearby forest for a peace of mind. A destiny that guided him to be blessed with total ignorance in the age of artificial intelligence.

The neighbors, living in the only cottage at the forest, a post office man and his wife enjoyed arguing in anger generating load voices and sometimes noises that looks like household stuff being thrown from upstairs striking weak wooden walls and in some unfortunate incident a hit on a face.

The wife was so young; only five years older than the kid. Today he is an unavoidable charming nineteen years old seven feet high muscular curvy brown-haired gentleman. The postman lost his wife who never loved with him.

When I was a child, I missed my education, love for horse riding when the post office man convinced my father that I will be happy and forced me to marry him, is was death, life just got frozen, she murmured, laid her head on his chest and finally enjoyed a deep blooms yummy breath. She escaped back to her youth. Now, I will be no longer forgotten.

definitely nice..

Winter,
miserable, you are,
flowers paled, happily,
mercury drifted morning winds,
sharpened edges,

Dancers hated your wounds, scarves,
rest assured, Granny is there for you …
she loves you even if,
leaves abandon skinny trees, and
your sun burns; she adores you,

Enjoy dispelled hope and memories never retrieved,
pointless as speechless;
bleeding dark hatred.

Beloved winter, remedy narrow graves;
pick her up from underneath, and
be nice to her; definitely nice.

A dead forest

Eventually, bottom Oak tree branch will fail under increasing consignments from a supreme thicker one that has thicker and bigger leaves. Leaves that allowed no sunshine to nourish deprived skinny branch that had always been thirsty for sunlight. Apes swings around under leave’s shade enjoying free food; breeding in summer. Forgotten the long lived agony’s ember. Life just got so neutral after Tarzan’s departure to the gambling city. Failed again to promote forest’s life as gamblers fancied contemporary fashion trends. Tarzan, dare you yoga or say yes to renounce ancient beliefs rooted within weak branches. Symptoms of Alzheimer, inequality of leaves poisoned authentic social ties within butterfly’s society as they fear wild snakes with faces looks more like wicked witch’s on a broom; Tarzan, remember her hair cut?

On the top branches stood the hungry eagles staring in patience at the occupants in the shed bellow. Eagle’s babies expecting a fresh tasty meal. An early morning promise made by their muscular father prior the departure. Quarterly, frogs ranks eagle’s devoted ethos as they gain weight. Branch can no longer absorb sharp nails tightness. Never disdained polluted Autumn’s wild wind, the branch’s lungs can take it no more; such a past time sin’s fulfillment. Forest, passed away in serenity before dawn. Centuries back, in a perilous valley, drunk lizards celebrated stitching forest’s bloody dreadful coffin. Black warmth at midnight gifted nasty lizards’ tinny rotten arrogance. Hey ya Elephant, while pregnant keep both eyes open, your forest might be next to die in peace ? Endlessly private.

Bianca and the farm

Born in a detached village on a carpet in a cold cottage basement. Late November 1712, it was snowing heavenly and his father just stood hopeless as the mother gave birth to a cute baby girl minutes before she took the last breath. He had to suffer for two days in front of the body till he had the chance to bury his wife without even a decent funeral. At least she gave birth to their first child. She was ‘Bianca’, a name the mother has always dreamed of calling her daughter by.

The father used to get up before sunrise to reach his potato farm that fed the family for years. Bianca could not accompany her father as she was born with paralyzed legs. The father spent twelve years trying to heal Bianca’s illness but unfortunately it was incurable. He felt the guilt and poverty tightened his ability to offer anything. he sold the farm, the house, and all their belongings including Bianca’s mother cheap weeding dress trying to find a cure; useless. Father drove Bianca to the neighbor’s cottage. His body was found after three weeks by the river side in the farm he sold with left hand’s veins cut.

Life..

Is it too late?..Tell it to the crowd; now you do hate your birth, body, and death. Such a shame. Yes, no one cares. Diamonds won’t help anymore as her feelings has passed away last night. Red haired has gone wild back to a dark horrible childhood, remember? As you swayed to the beat. Admit it; here you are in a fake destiny were wildest dreams dries out, you would plea knee at her feet on a rainy day were your mysterious life grows and blood flows again filling your brain cells.

Apparently, rivers gone somehow nervous as owls shed tears in a stinky valley. Hang on there, give her your hand. Evaporate, then die joyfully, smoothly in a nightmare leaving no prudent trace ever. Coming back to earth, he is lost, breathless without her tenderness that fills the evening. Life is calling him again; to a fresh death. Got his black coffin, a perfume, and a velvet belt in a suit case. Such a great harmony; mate, are you still cynical about it? It is time to recognize it; it is your own disgusting rotten life; enjoy.

Terminoogy                            

Scarce are the moments where she could release her deepest compassion. Dare you recall those. An elevation of stones mounted higher than teenager’s magical dreams. Dreams where she feared to stress out her rabid heart pulse. Moments deeply engraved in her sub conscious since ever. A useless attempt to dig for and find the best terminology to breath it all out before mid night.

Summer passed; not so joyful. She sought after help from a roommate; mostly drunk. Such a shame for someone studying cultures. She faced it many times, a lovely red haired skinny tall young lady; physically wanted day and night. He was so dishonest. Left the flat to the coffee shop across the street; please, double espresso and a chocolate cupcake. The waitress waited and wondered: will you pay for that?; she asked. Of course, she responded. How did you earn the cash? Waitress asked again. Have you tried a shoot in the forehead before? Damn this place; nasty terminology flourished. She stared at the entrance, Gosh, guess who was stepping in?

Waxion; a bit..

Feel the anger; wax it,

Meet dead ends; waxed,

Knew it; damn sunshine.

Dream freedom; a bit,

Wax n brain wash; an abundant of.

A bit; devastating ugliness,

Humans waxed; just a lot.

Destination, Pacific shore; alone honey,

Devil is your drunk captain;

Sailing smoothly all the way,

Across the ocean, feel his sharp nail around your neck,

Dipped in melted wax,

Bleeding love; shore is quite unreachable.

the last serenade..

As he approaches her cottage, she could feel his heart beats; Can it be true? She whispers. After all those years, he is back; I must dress up- I will put on the velvet dress he adores. His foot steps are becoming closer and closer; she hears knocks on the door. Gosh, where is the perfume he bought me on our first Valentines day? Here it is and I will just play the music we used to dance to all night long.

She rushed down stairs to the main door; My God, you are still so handsome love… But why sadness fills your eyes?. I am sorry baby, tonight you will go to bed listening to the serenade I composed especially for you. With no regrets; darling, read my mind- a gorgeous red-haired is an aspiration- a fresh blossom.