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schizoptimistics
Ross Lang
United States, Ohio, Columbus

Words: 659
Access: Public
Comments: 1

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Breath!

A stutter, A ripple in the atmosphere. That strand of cloud that blocks the sun only to betray the shade it hastily made over your tired and trodden form. I love dreams and the explainations behind them. I like the soul. The new and the old, scent and memory combined, folded, from the embers my forefathers created an ash nation, smudging grins on the later generation. It was a painting deceiving in nature, beautiful to the uneducated and desired heavily by the guilty minds of my peers. My fear is….A piece of myself was cut out and held over the fire filling their pens with hateful words never retiring til the sun comes up and there is no fear of dying…And that’s when I saw that smile. Lined up with the rest, worse for wear in this test of strength, and hair is a must for the decision in waiting, but fate, only explainable after an event that takes place leaves me wondering until this day. What if tomorrow felt like sleeping in? Is this fiction an idea or past life in the stars? sleepless or not it found a place in my heart, parting with the past creates a friend that gets vindictive, and makes me forget where I stand in a first come first serve proposition, if facing it is that which has to be done, then you’ll find me cuddling with tomorrow breaking windows and pulling the blinds down, Because I don’t want the sky, nor the trees or the ground, my soul shifts to lead so with both feet breaking now I say, I would trade my life for your death my soul for your breath, my heart on your chest paints a solid point, it’s never beat like that before. Something more than less insisting to choose the greatest time possible, inaudible whisper, transpired by a word and spread through the blisters of minute, of hour, of fortune and power, of meekness and wild powder fights in the snow from the clouds, take a deep breath. See that death, is only the dip into a never identifiable beginning, with an end that reincarnation sparks life and ideas from, as with any pond the breeding of anything starts with an atom which builds a new colony forever ants will keep crawling building hills out of sand and taking my harsh judgement for their actions. After all, how could something so small with no religion make it into the ocean of souls..Heaven?! Honestly I’ve had better! Oh to crush it and dispose like the many stories told in the letters I wrote you but threw away, Some say these days not the question of faith is the only thing left to blame. Imagine a sand sweeping beach with lights I saw Parades! I saw eyes that saw mine a smile pushed to the side, a nod to seal my greatest fear those lips just might not be clean. Anymore.. Like a tour into the darkness where the moon hides behind the sattelites, rocks, pretty faces seek a new life to lead and though it seems to make quite a few beings happy, we fall short with the flag of unfaithfulness tucked away in our bones. There is no home for the wanderer roaming to love and lose, to pick and choose, The sun will rise over their heads and locked arms, Smile, say that the love is strong, kiss a stranger in the dark, and hide the evidence in the park, lose a friend then think about the inevitable, my solice lies in the fact that even though they prove to show ambition, in the end it’s not his secret kisses, but the fact we all die is incredible. The promiscuous nature of the immature is to SCREAM LOVE into the rushes, I know what love is, She always fainted and crept away in it’s presence.

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Comments  
sheangel13 Comment by: sheangel13 - 2008-03-10 12:21
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I really enjoyed your writing because of the flow. When reading it, for me, all of it felt to be said in one breath (which is not possible for me) from the flow of the words. Every sentence aids to the one before it and after. Each word used links the story together.

I truly think this is beautifully written. There is a misspell in the third line, but otherwise i thought this was a great piece.

Continue to write! I will definitely be reading.
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By schizoptimistics

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