Juin dunes

Juin Dunes

~ Miss A

And just then I remembered once again, the starting of a hellish phase,

Heat strokes and burning skins, the home of the nightmares, it's June again.

A June as juvenile as justice, a June as junevibbed as jury,

And me a plaintiff, listening and hearing every movement so desperately.

Is there something to care about, even yourself, lost appetite,

Isn't it fun to bury the dark humour in the dunes of sand.

What is a dream? Gobble it down and you'll remember chains better,

Wore a knit expression, and all they thought was oh so happy.


Barbed out, I can feel it again in the skin,

Addiction to poison only kills, but oh lord the sin.

Pushed the water to the beach, tribe cold drip,

Give it what is needs and heavens parade crip.

Don't want to change anything about it, 

But maybe preserve as much as possible, try harder.

What's do I tell you more about, we don't see comfortably,

But to sentiment it in a bottle, you'd understand without a word spoken.

So seen, it seems like a dagger in put points up, 

And I keep falling slitting the gut open repetitively.

I saw you again, after a long time, guns on the desk cold again yes,

And I sensed the return of flavours, can't let this ink dry, it's a mess.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Giddy

  Giddy ~Miss A I, don't feel nothing and I Know this, is dying inside and games To be played, risky but choices Are to be made, mistakes are desires. Woke up this morning, alone with no Hint of your existence , seems like a  Dire need, but stuck in a maze, for typical Decisions are to be made, delusional Bokeh. Lived in denial, but figured out the Voices chasing my realm, are deemed Karaoke from hell, missing a toe, a  Mistletoe, would swear it always against you. Now, I find myself crushed in the heart, hoping To connect to the, part of the forsaken, but It's futile to call, for the heart you pushed off  The cliff, just pray for disease, until its peace.  How to replicate all the terms, bound with  A ripple, soft but comes back but in fragments, And never yours again, slithering n' shimmering, Makes me giddy, giddy-giddy all day. Do I deserve it, I ask myself often, and none Of my facets said yes, a single time, but to know The truth is like to find a mirror, true to self
Read more

Brain-dead responses

 Brain-dead responses ~Miss A. Moving on to shut the eyes, waiting for you to close the distance, They say to think of postive things before going to bed,  So I try to hold the image of your face, to hide it like a good story in my memories, And I'm brain-dead, nothing exists, no thoughts, no melodies, just you. Stagnant in my vision as a reason to keep on living, a reason to cherish life, And suddenly I find myself those green forests, hugged by mist, and lakes Potentially cold, and forst biting, but burning in my breath like a born fire. But I feel something irritating, an anxiety, and I look at my palms, shaking,  What is that I am missing, for something was there which I was holding with my all, This place seems like paradise, but instict tells me the moss would eat me up, The strong smell of rotting wood, feels as fresh as the lemon jest, even as I lay down, trying to connect to the soil, I can't rest. What is it, what is it, spins my head, what, where, who; and I feel the
Read more

A story like that

  A story like that ~Miss A It's been a long time, since I read love stories, Stories, that went like, "He was known for being the most handsome one has seen", "And she was the one who never fell for looks, found it the most unhappening". And whatever that meant to each other, Would dissolve once they catch them eyes.  But oh, did these stories really exist? Or should I write one for the community service? Service from deep within, that catches the gist of the utmost pain, Pain, worst of it's kind, like decaying, Just because of being away, Uncanny, yet in a way that touches. A story where you find pink in pastels, over ivory skin, A demeanor, all lit with it, eyes glittering in mist, And not just her, it's him too, pink and flushed in my story, I pretty much don't like the one sided thing like story. A story set in the month of Avril, hung a little by spring, Spring, a vista portraying summer flowers blooming in the mid breese, Not those fancy dress
Read more