underneath
this
corner of
the moon,
one breath
takes you
away
from tussling
fear.
away
from the lies
rustling
in your head.
here,
with me,
you are free.
Author: nomisyar
I collect Spores, Molds, and Fungus.
Me
don’t run.
or you will always be
alone.
hide,
for a time,
and you will mourn,
alone.
waiting
with open
hand.
please come back
to us:
me&you…
you&me…
WE.
let us reunite
and be whole
like before.
WE
are the love
for which
you hunt.
WE
are
all we will ever need.
so,
come back, my
beloved,
let us feel
this silent stillness
together.
Design
a
first step.
a
deep breath.
a
tiny tremor
of delight.
faintly tangled
up
in
questioning webs
of fear.
until
we embrace
the
chaos
of Her design.
who knew
each kick
or
tumble,
or
exchanged bliss,
would
take you
here,
to where you need
to be?
who knew?
Fog II
safe in
a soft
empty,
silver’s magic
flows
between
this step
and
the
next.
there
is nothing
but this,
and
paradise.
high above,
She sweetly
bores through,
with mystique
&
grace-
She is
lovely,
she is,
more.
She sees
the serene infinite
is
nothing more
than a pit for the blind.
a void for the dammed.
She smiles down,
mockingly
cold, and wicked.
jealous
of your fire.
burn
baby
burn
Fog
Shiny
and Bright,
so Big,
and so fucking
Beautiful.
Roses,
and Sunshine.
then truth
burns
through,
leaving a hot
mess.
and you know
forever,
and
you know always,
it was
only
you.
burn
baby
burn.
Musings
silver laced words
fly
without fail
when
Inspiration whispers
softly
in my heart’s ear.
but
behind each
flowery phrase,
is a mountain
of Truths
i can not share:
indescribably delectable.
wickedly unattainable.
awesomely wondrous.
fearlessly flawless.
beautifully,
a-
Muse
-ing.
thank you
a misty morning’s magical maiden
in the smallest hours of the day
when hedgehogs
and unicorns are still at play,
you will find Her in the fog
composing odes
to polliwogs.
sit a while, and you may come to know
just what
you need to light your glow,
then move right
along, there are things to do:
the world awaits
the glory
of
you!
Waning Beauty
flowing serene
across
wave filled sky,
you are not lesser
to me.
full,
or
new…
i will always look
for
you,
and smile.
hello
morning rises
up this hill
light
and
swift.
new chapters,
exciting times,
fresh beginnings
yet,
memories drift
back to sweetness,
they drift,
back to
you.
Splat! (mojo’s on holiday)
words fall flat
as
inspiration flees.
nonetheless, the words
fall.
….bidden certainly
(desperately), so
fall they do;
tortured
and unceremonious,
but
sincere,
and
true.
ugly words,
not fit for love.
loathsome phrase,
that kindle no one.
but here i am
humbled
and open,
ready to surrender,
and receive
a creative spark
from the sacred,
or the profane.
theDeprevation 