will atlas

will atlas Poems

The air mocked the night my life shaped me.
The pine needles rustling violently as I sped faster, they crumbled louder.
My gut sensing deranged instability, you got me at first blink. How passive I cried.
No words, no sight, only the very clammy feel of the fearful night.
...

Shades drawn, tendons singing correlation to the notes of sockets bassing
Humming my third person sweet nothing's.blanking out, staring out, drowning out the gravity of my position.

I am the fly on the wall. watching my hungers inhibitions enthrall.
...

I..... am a comet. Hurling through space, or is it I am an immovable object which time is flowing over. Watching star systems planets and the always beautiful nebulae go past.. I am but a rocky surface. Although mineralites lie beneath on the surface I am cold and just well.... rocky. Some look at me as freedom as I am not constantly pulled or 'trapped' as some say in gravitational tidal waves. (Cosmic humor) but they just don't know how lucky they really are. Some see my beauty spark in the sky and call me a star but forget about me as quick as i passed. I am but a lonely comet. An ugly worry to the ones close and unimportant to the ones far away, I have no purpose. Eons have made me think what it would be like to just stop one day, to just end all this confusion and find a home but it seems my home is empty space. Watching all the clusters, the planet's with their moons hell even the space dust has trillions of companions, light with several rays. You see my point. There's no tomorrow with me. Just happening upon happening. Purpose is a very compelling and preoccupying theme for me for as a comet what am I supposed to bring to the table. Here, here's some destruction, I don't want that to be me but the path that lays before me it's just natural I guess.

I am but an asteroid. I can't stand this rock I gravitate towards. I sit here all day looking at the same thing I've seen all of its beauty but over the years things inside it have destroyed him and me as well watching him. Although I care I feel longing for something more. It used to be him the moon and me just us against the vast. Now it just seems as though he's the center of the universe. I just can't stand it anymore but he keeps pulling me in. I don't know what to do. It seems like the more I resist the closer I go. Possessive comes to mind. Who can blame him though. At least I have to rationalize something healthy out of this right. I heard the word before in airwaves named hope. I have hope. That's just what I have to keep with me.
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The Best Poem Of will atlas

When I Grow Up I Want To Be.

The air mocked the night my life shaped me.
The pine needles rustling violently as I sped faster, they crumbled louder.
My gut sensing deranged instability, you got me at first blink. How passive I cried.
No words, no sight, only the very clammy feel of the fearful night.
Oh what's in store for me? the thought races through my comatic body.
The fabric rips and the instinct can't kick in, it's only through the fighting
The war begins.
I still hear the pine needles rustling.
I felt the stranger tussling.
Though the air was frigid and cold, the skin of the stranger fell below.
Even still the steal on my nape could bite snow.
the aggression too determined/ festering in my friends soul.
It wasn't until noting these senses, could I move on to hone.
Turmoil escaping, panic filled lungs.
From the notably forceful maelstrom.
Have you ever teared from tidal fear?
Salting quicker than your molecules quiver
The haze before me sets a figure in my receptors.
Still with latency almost in tune with ringing concussion.
I look across the needles to see my home. so close -
But in a journeys reach.
So popular am I to have this treat tonight!
The shadow still tarring the sheets, while the nick on my neck
Beckons to make that lonely fearful frog leap….
The one slip was the characters mistake from the
dominance of bludgeoning contact I waked.
The life brought back to me,
Hahaha now he's in fault.
For the sake of vengeance!
He will embrace the lonely, dark, fear filled vault.
The salts are mixing now ever so violent!
Pathetic rumbling only fuels the rage.
The feel undoubtly painful, breaks the steals fall.
Like a bland saw cutting so much wood. hold the sounds
Of the shivers as the panic rivers,
running straight up the hands.
to engulf the Tingling of my godlike commands.
At the right hand is bleeding, faster than them all.
Gurgling shouts but not from the mouth.
Cages ribbed are dancing in the spout.
So many beats of the gavel justifying all.
In My dear friend who will stay for the years.
The sudden silence finally catches ear.
…a certain grace of triumph,
I appear.
That 30 seconds,
Tore me apart.
I reaped!
in spite.
Of ironic mochary that tragic night.

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