|Goodbye dear friend, we will meet again.|
stormthe storm's a comin.storm by RUNNrabbitRUNN
i'll be hapy when I wake,
and rain is pouring down
to sweep clean the street.
time does not heal.
i miss the missing, therefore i Am.
so the ground does weap,
and with sadness hidden
behind dreadful weather,
the disparate fall
beneath the spell.
rain, nowbloody hell just let it rain for fuck's sake.rain, now by RUNNrabbitRUNN
..i'm tired of the anticipation,
i'm tired of the fires;
i'm sick of the dreadnaught
the dust inspires;
i've spent long enough
time jailed in the desert...
it's the dead fish in the salton sea,
it's the time spent remembering,
it's some kind of fleshless enemy,
a boneyard in the barren sea;
i only recall the rust on my tongue,
a defiance of age,
the coldness of loneliness,
the impertinence of rage,
the truth of history,
the lies in the collective,
the one true evil
cupped lovingly in god's hand
...how hell has devoid earth,
how man as disgraced love,
how life has become so cheap,
how land now suffers eternal thirst...
nightmares vol. 1His palm is against her forehead, for a long time. “Am I running a fever again?” No response.nightmares vol. 1 by RUNNrabbitRUNN
She lifts her head above the dashboard and squints at the gray brightness of day. Uncertain of what she sees.
There’s a thick fog all around. Throws everything into fuzz, a myriad of vague forms and figures. Hard to see much of anything. Not without staring with deep concentration.
She pushes herself up and tries hard to make out where they are.
Some long expanse of asphalt rolling out before them. But not like a road. Almost like it, but definitely not.
In the distance indistinct in the mist, a tall cylindrical building, windows all around at the top, shattered and blown out.
Either side of the asphalt, on dead yellow grass, there are large things, metallic pieces of rust.
A word comes to her mind when she looks at one: fuselage.
This is an abandoned runway. This is a boneyard. A place where only the shells of war aviation exist.
There is no life here. Remnants of lif
for Michael HubbardWakeful dreams of fleshless giantsfor Michael Hubbard by RUNNrabbitRUNN
Glinting in summer sunset.
From great manmade sleek beasts above,
Business as usual below,
World without end.
Through diamonds of rain in
A solitary sparse wave,
Steaming black asphalt.
Shadow boxes and displays giving sentiment
To sometimes wordless poems.
Memory and meaning;
Music and movement.
Wholeness, oneness, perfection.
Way Back ThenRemember whenWay Back Then by kidko123
your older sibling
was your superhero?
When all you did
to get ready for school
was eat a bowl of cereal,
no make-up involved,
and the only gossip you would hear
would be about
how Johnny broke his arm,
from climbing that big oak tree
in the school yard.
Remember when the basement
would be a dark chasm,
home to demons of horror?
(Well it still sorta is...)
When the biggest problem you had
was forgetting how to tie your shoes,
and all you had to worry about
was being able to remember
the way home?
I miss that too.