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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Arts · #2164989
Competitive Writing
Comedy and Tragedy
..
Flouting the fleeting moment of mortal overshadow
I evolve extorted through these poor portable said so's..
Tussling in unorthodox, i still ponder in topple
Among golden seaweed bed's colored subtle cranapple

Do I live to spawn,
or dawn, I shall live with ruptured raptures
To whom past i am, when..
THEN

(1 thought passes)
-uncaptured-
(nothing)

..

A daughter to some and a son to none worth mentioning,
I have been placed in a hierarchy of pre-set destiny
Announced as the Deity "Annoyance" in the devine laws of dignity
Diligently dangling my model makeup dancing off mutany
Only aired from the whispers of others, i clammily banter
Cramming their soulless melodies in open graves of light mantra
in one blink,
i am a satyrs roar reflections
in one nod,
a mermaid's scales of pure deflection
in one adjust.. i am just.. in one just i am pre-menstrual
Covering the LOVE/LUST thrusted from their personification of time of celestial
in fact for the most part it is manifestations and apparitions
yet the cowards want solid form within their statistic's happenings

reshaped and stretched already, almost pornographic in its depravity
I simply keep declining what they claim as decline, just to avoid monotony
keeping me cradled in cuttlefish white powders of brush left untouched
even when chained down in their musky much of way too much
i am spurned by the urchins, and all the way to the bird calls
enthralling my own being as weather, through out the hill top's swerved shawls
over its female finery,
under its male masculinity begging
not ever knowing how lucky i am with such direction constantly un-hemming

Yet day by day/night by night THEIR minor sea goddess gestures
from free roaming to alone in alone outsiders strung like demisemiquavers
drawn earnst with my blood from a stone
i drip
i dip
solidified in a i have been simple though only for one notes

I soak down the thought underneath a grimmey grotto
over draw draw from drawn and engulf in the making of bottle
brushing my hair to my fingertips in its sway
embracing the deformation of errupt through decay
with its most precise moisture, peculiar in its mere mold mirrored
affinity sets so prominent i can not help but be beheld in its symmetry
so simply it wraps around me in an oh flu from affairs
i watch helplessly as it turns me into a flute.. and what appears to be muddy despair

i watch
as my pawed hooves clatter
i watch
as my tinkered tale tatters, scatters and flutters

i watch simply just to watch for the first time muttered
i can no longer mumble,
de-evolving into one piece of glass shattered
that sounds itself as a cog with no name hustled/huddled out of its spirit by god's

whether or not i do rot
only time will tell the merit i mustered before my life vanished within (ONE WEATHER SONG)
© Copyright 2018 Noraah Heel (knows_candy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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