I think, therefore I am, my thoughts, a cluster of the cosmos, me, a cluster of the universe, my belly, just a slant of gravity tilting over at the slightest touch, spewing butterflies and hard truths.
By Soul4 years ago in Poets
I'm starting to feel like some wild beast is trying to rip open my chest. I don't belong here. What if I just went wild? Returned back to my animalistic roots and extinguished all the fires of uncivilized behavior that has been burning in my chest for so long?
By Soul4 years ago in Psyche
We already know the way I compose these letters to you sits on the axis of Earth. I hope they make your stomach feel like you're flying somewhere across the Atlantic with nothing but those beautiful pair of wings, Angel.
This moment encapsulates me, fascinates me really. A place covered in velvet snow, as warm as fire next to you. I wonder if you look in the mirror and see a flame. Hot and bright. Maybe you see a star. It's hard to believe you see a human with faults and decorative flaws.
Let’s rewind the tape slowly. You are sitting on your bedroom floor, moonstone and quartz surrounding your radiant legs, your eyes are closed but they are gleaming.
By Soul5 years ago in Poets
The sense of urgency that made me convulse so hard until I became a memory made me feel like a foreigner in my own body, a memory in my own mind,
June 9th, 5: 05 a.m, a hypnotized hiccup of an embryo was born fertilized with salt, soil and prayer effortlessly spiraling into an ethnic island fruit
What happens in the dark will always come out in the light. What goes on in our unconscious will always show itself in our consciousness. So, what if those creatures hiding in the dark aren’t so pretty? Well, chances are, they aren’t. Carl Jung definitely doesn’t think they’re inherently beautiful, but making friends with them can help propel you in your spiritual awakening.
By Soul5 years ago in Psyche
“I’m-I’m letting all this go, and I’m just going to figure it out. Pray about it, I guess. I just-I can’t do this anymore, Jack.” I look down into his eyes. Cerulean in a pool of red wine. When’s the last time he slept? Or maybe he’d been crying.
By Soul5 years ago in Fiction
I am running so fast my joints feel displaced. Sweat is soaking my pores like hot, thick candle wax. My heart feels like an angry prisoner trying to escape his cage. I must outrun him. I must. My feet keep sinking into the sopping wet mud with every step I take. I hear him grunting, breathing so loudly it’s waking all the jungle animals.
If the multiverse theory is true, then we’re already married with kids in another dimension. For every fight, we had about small things because compromise wasn’t always on the table,
Today, I planted my feet in the soil, asked God to use my tears to water them, and something new sprouted right in front of my eyes.
