01-28-2022, 10:00 AM
The Longest Night
No warn of soul’s wrestle in the longest night
No warning of the wrestle in the lonely night,
This unified celebration of the shortest day
Line sound kinda indirect. Kindo ingrown.
In anticipation for ease and child’s play light
is to refuse the work
Lines that set up but don't add
Like cold mother, her baby, in wail and need
is the denial of demons
The way this sentence is constructed, the connections: look at.
Who take off their stiletto and unwind their hair
attractive
To show they are also fragile in this terror
Well, I guess.
Maybe we like it like that.
Alone
really
Moon holds a gaze and gifts attentive suspire “My sweet friend, I know”
That's not the moon of lonesomeness. Real life is breaking in on this poem. Out of the whatever the art atmosphere was.
“You can collapse in shatter and bone,
And give in
Surrender your cherish
This sounds irregularly technical.
And let hungry wolves feast on your most precious organs
Not because you have given up
But because they have chosen you
It’s oft that demons hail
And spew into the most important aspects of your life
Often, they do?
The poem is now saying, Who?
Where they steep in your skin
This is what would keep someone in the poem, if kept steeped like this.
Speak your tongue
Turn your eyes into glass
As you try to grasp someone you need
But leak your worms and rot
where they can no longer sympathise”
That felt irregular,
kind of sick
But this was the longest night
It’s okay to lose
It’s okay to cripple
As it’s okay to accept the long aftermath
Okay? Is that it?
Sounds personal
It’s okay to be deranged
And It’s okay to be disordered
When life has snapped in tangle and bite
It’s okay to take off your hat and clothes
And show rib and spine to the strong
And be your worms
For you have just wrestled the
incomprehensible
To soothe more formed and known
To know thyself and dance all corners of this Being
As you honour to be the whole of what God truly loves
No warn of soul’s wrestle in the longest night
No warning of the wrestle in the lonely night,
This unified celebration of the shortest day
Line sound kinda indirect. Kindo ingrown.
In anticipation for ease and child’s play light
is to refuse the work
Lines that set up but don't add
Like cold mother, her baby, in wail and need
is the denial of demons
The way this sentence is constructed, the connections: look at.
Who take off their stiletto and unwind their hair
attractive
To show they are also fragile in this terror
Well, I guess.
Maybe we like it like that.
Alone
really
Moon holds a gaze and gifts attentive suspire “My sweet friend, I know”
That's not the moon of lonesomeness. Real life is breaking in on this poem. Out of the whatever the art atmosphere was.
“You can collapse in shatter and bone,
And give in
Surrender your cherish
This sounds irregularly technical.
And let hungry wolves feast on your most precious organs
Not because you have given up
But because they have chosen you
It’s oft that demons hail
And spew into the most important aspects of your life
Often, they do?
The poem is now saying, Who?
Where they steep in your skin
This is what would keep someone in the poem, if kept steeped like this.
Speak your tongue
Turn your eyes into glass
As you try to grasp someone you need
But leak your worms and rot
where they can no longer sympathise”
That felt irregular,
kind of sick
But this was the longest night
It’s okay to lose
It’s okay to cripple
As it’s okay to accept the long aftermath
Okay? Is that it?
Sounds personal
It’s okay to be deranged
And It’s okay to be disordered
When life has snapped in tangle and bite
It’s okay to take off your hat and clothes
And show rib and spine to the strong
And be your worms
For you have just wrestled the
incomprehensible
To soothe more formed and known
To know thyself and dance all corners of this Being
As you honour to be the whole of what God truly loves