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Help me fix this shit. https://legacy.arisuchan.jp/q/res/2703.html#2703

Kalyx ######


File: 1527948900115.webm (9.21 MB, 1280x720, Mint_moth_(Pyrausta_aurat….webm)

 No.2009

Every now and then I hear it wondered,
"Why do moths fly into lights?"
It's because they find their way
by gazing at the Moon,
Heaven's most reflective body
waxing ever bright—

Until we came along, that is
Reinventing to our tastes
the night
Navigating by our silver orbs
To destinations never closer
Or so it seems until
A dusty wing collides with
the fallen sky: a pane of glass
the moth will never see nor fathom.

Every now and then I hear it promised,
"Shoot the Moon; and if you miss
Still, you'll land among the stars"
—I have to disagree.
My landing was in city streets
Lined with twinkling light

I look up towards the Moon
But closer skies are all I sight
Blind by towering glass and Earthly stars
I can but reflect
On what my destination might be like.


Your poetry. It doesn't have to be a masterpiece; it just has to be sincere.

 No.2017

File: 1528552165665.jpg (18.8 KB, 500x398, facing-away.jpg)

>>2009
Years and years ago, she said:
"Who are you?
Who are you?
Who are you?"
But the "you" she sought was dead;

Then she kissed me, and she said,
"I love you.
I love you.
I love you."
So I lived for her instead.

When she left, heard in my head,
"I miss you.
I miss you.
I miss you."
And I ran my razor red,
I cried, cried, all while I bled,
Too late for my written flesh:
Living, never again dead.

 No.2018

THREADSUNS
above the grayblack wastes.
A tree-
high thought
grasps the light-tone: there are
still songs to sing beyond
mankind.

 No.2020

File: 1528594132589.jpg (10.99 KB, 210x240, marlene-angel-blue-gender-….jpg)

>>2009

You wake up from the electricity.

Your mind has been racing all night but somehow you slept, you guess.

You solve the problem in your dreams.

When you wake it is just your train of thought
switching tracks.

Picking up the canisters of caffeine for the day, you look at the cashier and wonder

People talk of work like work isn't identity, isn't fulfillment. Her eyes mirror the sentiment.

Maybe you are weird. You pay and leave.

Walking in, you wonder:

Maybe you're lucky.

Maybe the dream job is just beyond "I tried, but you know how it is."

You return home at the end of the day, a sum of problems of your own.

But as you fall into your chair, you feel a peace.

When you hear how someone didn't make it, all you hear is "I stopped at…."

And you dwell on that stage.

Success follows insanity.



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