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TimekeepingUsually you are late.
The time ticks...
-And without an apology you saunter in callously.
Now, the lights burn lower
The tea long grown cold.
The words and the pages flick beneath fingers,
Although the text became meaningless
Quite a while-- no make that quite some time ago,
I have no heart to re-read.
In the reflection of what ought have been a togetherness
With friends and acquaintances,
You’re beyond late.
You had a date with an afterthought.
--truth be told
I figured it was only a matter of time
Before this actually happened
And you forgot to show at all.
Late in the yearNovember crept into my bones;
The year moving into its old age
As the trees burned,
Their dancing-flame-leaves scattering into the winds,
The promises of thick frost and darkened skies at dawn
Dusk once more falling far to early.
The veiled moon pale and grown fat,
Clouds obscuring the stars to wish on.
DialectThe words that I was taught to speak with disgust you
A harsh accent
My local dialect-- instead of being a quirk
Found to be an offence
You see my speech as coarse
I find it as comforting as close family,
My familiar turns of phrase
Falling from the lips of relatives
Those words (in some cases)
All that I have left of them.
I embrace my heritage
Or what little of it remains
As we move into the modern age,
But you roll your eyes as I state simply
‘Yow cor spake proper.’
Bleak.Left with self-fulfilling prophecies
And bad dreams,
The dark is no longer comforting.
I make my peace and accept
That certain things I long for
Shall never come to pass,
However much I hope and wonder who I wronged lifetimes before this.
My mind sees my reflection;
She is me but not,
First, the past me laughing at my current pathetic stagnation
She wonders where the backbone went - the extrovert slowly introverted
But its gallows laughter and she hates me--
Hating in a mocking rage what the future self has sentenced her too,
There fire is still there though--so is the pain.
Its all there…
Second, the future self - looking back, with silver flecked hair
And crinkled eyes book-marking another chapter ending
Something seems dead behind those green-grey eyes
I can almost feel a sickness, the start of its passing
And for now nothing I can do will help it.
Mourning for the self that once was, or the dreams that never happened.
Finally just myself --
I’m alone i
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More