looking back from the moment of death, spiralling antimatter from the eyes

by raincomplex

Tue Mar 22 2022 at 23:44:23

the leaves from the trees
cut me to ribbons, falling head-first into a thousand pieces
and i wake up beneath a thousand barren trees
a million buds reflecting in two thousand eyes

if everyone dies, the moon would call us back tomorrow
i want to know who you are, child
you who put ribbons in your hair and carry budding branches
and touch my face and forget

being born comes with a great blood-thirst
(heads: you approach, tails: you recede)
the cool clear liquid-moon blood of life
step out with me into the black night

do you think that you can say the name of god?
my entire life i have been composing my death poem
i am nothing and everything, cut me to ribbons
i'm not going to stop you if you try

(the head)

I like it!

6 C!s

I speak to you in my mind and you do not hear	integrability problems	The bastards hung me in the spring of '25, but I am still alive.	the fruit of the tree of the blood of the wicked and the pure
My entire life I have been composing my death poem	Thousand Year Old Vampire	the silence of a roaring desire	My finger can point to the moon, but my finger is not the moon. You don't have to become my finger, nor do you have to worship my finger. You have to forget my finger, and look at where it is pointing.
ten thousand hours of practice	she doesn't write, doesn't tell you stories, but somehow it's her words that spring to mind at those crucial, terrifying moments, and for that you are eternally grateful	neverending spring of laughter	I know this road pretty well, for I've chased many a honey-bee over it.
Ouroboros	in low orbit over a sea of objects	the clay jug and the molten iron	they tell you to be your true self. to never give up on who you are. they don't know who i am.
and the moment we said we're not giving up is the moment we knew we'd never stop	i'll meet you in another world, and hold you for a thousand years	moment after moment, we have to find our own way	I know who goes to that group, and that's why I don't go
i became a flower and a hundred years passed on a whisper of wind	when you heal yourself, you heal your ancestors	the promise of impending death is all around this place	you have all forgotten the taste of death