starryeyeset

[starryeyeset]

[starryeyeset]

anime_irl

[starryeyeset]

[starryeyeset]

[starryeyeset]

“I know you’ll never love me but maybe you’ll stay for awhile.”

— Henry Rollins; Solipsist

[starryeyeset]

what is this?

And so I called out

for I do not know

where you have gone

Where did you go?

Though no one esponds

I do not fret

A memory fragment

One I’ve not met

The shrieks in my mind

in my head, in my soul

ring into forever

I must sew the hole

Who is this person

Where have they gone

Have I ever met them

Will it happen at dawn

I know all the answers;

the answers are “no”

but my mind feels so barren

so empty and cold

[starryeyeset]

“I don’t want to miss you, but eventually I do.”

— qurrathulainnn

[starryeyeset]

The sad spectator...

[starryeyeset]

“La Vie en Rose:

A theory in prose

Poetically filled to the brim.

Everything is better in pink tinge;

But will this pink hue improve and do wonders for you?

Wish I could feel something for you,

Looking into gorgeous eyes.

Yet nothing real stems about,

And so I’ll never realize the true beauty of pink.

Pink-colored glasses, accessorized galore,

Not available in stores, and I have an eyesore,

But may I order a pair?

Desparation commodity,

Give me an Oddity,

Something with rarity to allow me much clarity.

Alas, too strange.

It seems such an illness will remain.

Despite the pain, will it change?

Hark! The La Vie en Rose calls me forth to a wondrous flight.

Everything seems lovely when you have such a Knight.”

— starryeyeset

[starryeyeset]

Still figuring this out; some prose I submitted.

It’s Complicated

Grammatically obsessing, structurally abiding, creatively lost.

Big words, words that are indisputably, inconceivably barefaced, palpable, plain.

It spawns a truly irritable and laborious descent into madness, searching for such that remains hidden. As if one was diligently adventuring in a forest of vast density, colors, and sounds.

I look for sad blues, hot reds, natural greens, and the vibrant iridescence shimmering off the leaves of lazy trees.

I listen for artful foot-falls, prowling predators, screeching baboons, and the echoes of nature playfully and fearfully bouncing off each other.

For the lexicon forest is much more preponderant than any forest known to exist.

Too complex.

I dislike it quite a lot.

“Quality over quantity.”

But not always correct?

To compete with companions requires competence.

To overcome means I have won.

But have I won through the admittance of such a deadly sin?

It’s complicated.

@starryeyeset

[starryeyeset]

The Lion’s Mew

The lion is told to have gargantuan presence; the soul must be loud and powerful, fierce in its approach. 

Yet the lion, having been born with the ability to master everything, the feral mane, and a prowl that haunts the memory, possessed the personality of a timid and diminutive kitten afraid of its own shadow. 

The Lion’s world, consumed by an incalculable number of lions, lost meaning. This Lion did not act as it should, as was expected, as was accepted. The Lion, in a world of lions, became a pariah. 

Grueling day after grueling day, the Lion stalked within the fields of swift tall grass, astute golden eyes peeking between the edges to the open Savanna, despising all its seen. 

For this Lion did not look with eyes of the present moment, but the eyes of all time. The eyes of all time observed the other lions, observed their pasts, presents, and futures. 

In a growing fit of rage, the Lion mewed. The Lion mewed, offering affection,  friendship, opportunities, and dreams. 

For one second of one moment of the Lion’s entire life, every lion was aware. Every lion became aware of the Lion standing before them, emitting such conviction in the offer.

Every lion considered the benefactions, and simultaneously, refused to respond with rejection or “yes.” 

The Lion stalked back into the grass, as if to the tune of an adagio, only returning every red moon to mew in the night.  

[starryeyeset]

Stars

There is an image constantly looking towards me. 

Facing me, chasing me.

An illusion reflecting off the stars millions of miles away. Stars impossible to touch, to feel, to revel in.

I can only see them. See them and wonder endlessly of things that lack significance.

Why am I here, in this place and at this time?

“You are because you are here. Asking a question with no answer has no benefits,” responds the remnants of myself.

Over time, the stars grow farther and farther away even though I try to chase them.

I become slower and slower as I run until I stop. I consider my actions and I turn back.

Now the illusion chases me, using light to convince me that the stars are closer than I thought.

I’m somewhere that doesn’t exist.

Illusions destroy my meteors and fires without me having to do anything.

In the place that does exist, they still remain.

I constantly worry and simultaneously never worry.

Still, nothing happens.

I’m sitting. Never moving, only waiting.

[starryeyeset]

Answers

Questions

Am I simple?

Am I too much?

Am I special?

Where exactly have I been, and where will I go?

Is my current state a destination or did I have other options?

Can I be something different or must I become something already predetermined?

Does it matter? Truly and sincerely, does it matter?

Will asking questions lead me to prominent self-discovery or prominent existential crisis?

Answers: I don’t know? 

[starryeyeset]

Raining City

In the city, there is rain.

The rain persists, consistently constructing melancholic floods on the streets outside the people’s domain.

In the city, there is melancholy.

The fierce rain beating rhythmically at the window provides a source of comfort and tranquility within the spirits of the delusional.

In the city, there is tranquility in fantasy.

A senseless calm rests over the people who are filled with impossible knowledge and impeccable talents. Filled with doubts and aspirations, the people create impressive silence that is heard from every corner of the universe.

The city is now restless.

The people, gaining motive, swim through iridescent street lights, focused on a single wish from the raindrops reflecting stars above.

The city stops.

The people travel further away from the city in search of their goals, following the path of shining stars created by the moon to liberation.

In the city, there is nothing.

For the shambles of rain cannot be maintained.