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About Varied / Hobbyist Official Beta Tester Diana G.19/Female/Christmas Island Group :iconthe-irrelevants: the-irrelevants
 
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there is no space for you, for you, you individual haphazard, arrangement of keys long expired.
you are expired milk, you are an angel's bedridden woes, 3 a.m night hawks seeking the next blue stream. where blue rivers run, i am dry hearted picture frames holding specks of dust and other unidentifiable things.

now life is an origami crane rotating on itself, or a double staged play with actors on each side swapping roles and lines until everything dissolves borders and the audience scatters with their own tragedy.
now many things are overdue and its years condensed in images and follies lay beside you in sleepless nations waiting to be held, by arms cradling the burning flags.

i met a girl who wandered across life searching for her 7-year-old dream and found it in boston square, and another who wanders and is still wandering down there where the river streams.
drag out the hailing smoke
it goes far into archway.

those WAX SMOTHERE'D THE MOTHER OF THE BLOTCHED MEADOWS. NOW THE ARMSTRONG MAN SLASHED UP THE MOON, NOW IT'S PERPETUAL ITCH. NOW THE HUMOR IN THE WRAPPED UP GRAVE MUMMIFIED COMES SPRINGING FORTH IN EPISODES OF WAR. NOW THE VAULTS OF ARCHITECTURAL NIHILISM COLLAPSE IN DEPARTURE FROM THE STARTING POINT, END GOALS NO SUCH THING. COUPLED BIRDS WARP ANGULAR GARGLING GARGOYLES TO WITCHBOUND ECHOES.
in cerulean haze glowing fish tanks growing tailbones, inundation of the light waves bright and blundering, plunder my soul into casted shades of your once worrisome sorrow, burrow deep into me. where the warmth held still between legs thighs: entry stacks of hay, needles in your stomach. all the cells all the celluloids streaming along each other through membranes through transport teleportation, traveling talking softly.

i do not know how to translate this into visual candy into things my teacher will digest and spew out conversations lifting up the sky in our hands. a japanese garden full of smoke floats in my conscious cautiousness. precocious little birds eating up their own plump little bellies. pellets in my throat. pelvis on my pillow. blargh
i heard the sunflower say that was her favorite color, i have a cotton gin mouth floating into a thousand eyes. coming down from the high that sine waved my formless parenthood, larval is the state beyond all else, chestnut wavy haired tree nymphs all giggling, blue eyes overwhelming the ocean into limitless sky borders with police crying teacup tears. from the shell was the wave, ocean convergence gazing over the water. ice age tremors evaporate testimonies plead plundering, waving flags dethroned, detached weekend willow whisked into heaven, burrowing deep into zeros. saw angel in checkers moving her queen, as the guards lowered their firm clarity and jumprope yelled, 'hello, child, take from my hand what was yours since always. rats fill my sorrowful burrows. igloos holding mischief only known to those hedgehogs harboring on winter's peeking tail. wave away the lightbulb whisking away the night. under the statement forgetting the threshold, finger fugitives yelling revelations, getty images were found in grandiose amounts copious in size. were we there, really? golden eyebrows shout my name. tribe waves followed me down the river the raft was leaving she was going to a home. mushrooms lived in villages settling in gnome heart corners. warm fire wrath wrapping, hot tea a'brewing, and stars shinin' bright! trekking through the night in beige boots and wavering shadows shout to us, beware the spirits in the grass, the inverse of one tree to another, to always.




here come again the forest children holding infants of no water source, breathing desert sands to lungs of silver mercury. in the ocean are the creatures you and i swam in
moons in a trace above rooftops and Brueghel fractals
he comes home from trailing toolbox in hand
and the snowdust has started again. Traces of moon cluttering the skycorners
fury of white quiet. What was yesterday? And the night before?
Squirrels in tribes and younglings frolicking, we’re quiet & alone. Ampersands dissociative reasoning
Boot tops with snowtraced linens, blue glow in the dust tailed willows. Soft, hum.
It is reflected in pale haired wise children—we have grown an broken the seal, so drink up with the dusk, and hide the bottle in a suitcase under your bed of many nights dreams. The conversations are no longer insipid, but grown, just as the sheet thickens and constricts, we are the arteries of treachery and dawn, the bonesickening disease god did not make or need. We are the blue lanterns trailing into nonexistence and the int7uitive philosophy surfacing from lotus moonwater made of man, if it were not for Him I may be a drifter amongst a sea of Dante’s satyrs who claim to be gods. I might be drunken and a’sunk singing the swift tune 3 eyed goddess Demeter sings. Nyx was of the night just as we embodied it, them, they are. Soft hush, do not sing, lay as we have always lain..slain daughters and dragons and talking to the seafaring wall of childhood, farewell now.
Yesterday was verticality in everything and the collapse of individual dimensions ,when floating somehow I became others just as Whitman did in Sleepchasings, when shapes assume alien forms and powdery smoke.
But paranoia, that purple demon who recently only clambered, out of the big boiling womb, it clenched my heart—I felt like the sinister painting in a picture of dorian gray who traded his soul for a progression of satan on canvas and was it because of boredom that we did so last night?
(but I would again, do so, and thus thereafter once more and again)

was it because of onesided wander? Or loneliness, just as the snowbelt divided islands of furthering tunes, we are always walking in a state of departure, the distance growing each everyday. As we’ve seen the small fish consumed by the mightiest jaws of sharp clarity so too would the largest eventually starve—we eat to subsist but we are in a tank of constant self destruction and every act of acquiring energy furthers destruction—we are simply relief from temporary death, our bodies all seek to deconstruct and implode

but the snowfall has picked up now, this dream of a newlywed man driving through highways to the unfurnished new pale house, with a soft sot woman n linen and the softliness of underthings waiting. He shifts wine from state border to border to the border between man and woman and he and she, and their cat, and wow, is this the snowfall of four days nonstop! Of valentine’s chamomile tea brewing and red velvet cake in the oven making love, this is the snowfall of Wallace, of Faulkner and father and oh father am I glad I’ve found it agayne! It was lost all I had were wet kisses confused in traffic light and the constant noise pollution of externalized wanders, how tragic everything was! For days and weeks.

The moons cluttering clustering the rooftops are just reflections of studylights and I am here, early afternoon now in calm Italian contemplation. I’ loved, and will once more, love. I had widened scopes of introspection and purpose and continue forward I expansion within and without, until lines are deceased
there is no space for you, for you, you individual haphazard, arrangement of keys long expired.
you are expired milk, you are an angel's bedridden woes, 3 a.m night hawks seeking the next blue stream. where blue rivers run, i am dry hearted picture frames holding specks of dust and other unidentifiable things.

now life is an origami crane rotating on itself, or a double staged play with actors on each side swapping roles and lines until everything dissolves borders and the audience scatters with their own tragedy.
now many things are overdue and its years condensed in images and follies lay beside you in sleepless nations waiting to be held, by arms cradling the burning flags.

i met a girl who wandered across life searching for her 7-year-old dream and found it in boston square, and another who wanders and is still wandering down there where the river streams.

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ersatz-moon's Profile Picture
ersatz-moon
Diana G.
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Christmas Island
shh...just listen

college kid.
Interests

inspirational people

:iconslevinaaron::icondepinz: :iconcamiloo::iconsuanin::iconoo-rein-oo::iconroxagrama: :iconaddy-ack: :iconholunder::iconineedchemicalx: :iconnerdynotdirty::iconnerysoul: :iconnairafee::iconhealzo::iconbailey--elizabeth:

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:iconnintendo1889:
Nintendo1889 Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2015
:iconmacplz::iconbookplz:
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:iconidreamincolor14:
iDreaminColor14 Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015   General Artist
Happy birthday!
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:iconsapphire-x-dreams:
Sapphire-X-Dreams Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015
Happy Birthday~ c:
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:iconcrimsonized:
crimsonized Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015  Hobbyist Photographer
Happy Birthday!
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:iconfullhousekissrox:
fullhousekissrox Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! :party::iconcakeplz::icongiftplz::party:
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