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Everything Chases the Sun by Chris Eyes

Everything chases the sun

The temptation is towards silence

but the noise always seems to win.

I yearn to empty my days of everything but you.

I’ll be burnt but I accept the scars.

See, morning is nothing without a dream to chase,

but while the waste of a generation fades

and days wait only for the moonlight,

my world illuminates in the dark,

where death is a spark,

a spike to the heart,

when all is unsaid,

and the hunger is fed

I contemplate greed

and the silence becomes nothing but a reason to bleed.

The ink is a seed

and everything chases the sun.

– Chris Eyes

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What poetry is to me by Ayesha Noor

poetry is

the exorcist of my demons

the water that puts out the fire in my mind

the surgeon that stitches the shredded pieces of my soul back together

the angel on my shoulder that keeps the devil from ruining me irrevocably

Continue reading What poetry is to me by Ayesha Noor

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Abstract art is for me a way to think outside the norm, to let go of expectations and to try and see things a little differently, even if only for a moment. Abstract art defies terms or classification, is outside of borders or -isms, it exists merely because it can and does and the meaning is ambiguous, much like life itself.

All eyes see differently, with their own biases and desires, wants and needs, and an image can mean a million different things to a million different people. Abstract art doesn’t preach, it offers itself up in humbleness and piety and those who wish to worship can, those who wish to question can, and those who wish to ignore, can.
Abstract is uniqueness, it is a term designed to provide a context when context is not the most important thing. The most important thing is that you feel something, anything and consider yourself for a moment.
It is a way to create without expectation, to form freely with complete innocence, child like and full of hope, and convey an element of yourself that cannot be put into words.
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If You Come, Love

if you come knocking at my door
turn the knob and enter
this time I won’t answer
I’m tired of rushing to greet only to get disappointed.

I’m sorry for giving up right on your turn
it’s unfair of me to judge you
based on the actions of the ones before
or their lack thereof.

it’s ok to make yourself at home
get acquainted with the lonely rooms
pay attention to where the shadows form
I’m tired of providing only sun
and blooming when there’s no one to care for.

if after all this you decide to stay
if despite all this you still want to make home
my heart is yours to tame
my soul is yours to love.

one last word of advice, though
beware of full moons.
The tides get high
and I’d hate to drown you too.

© Máh Lima

Photo by Albert Dera on Unsplash

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like jenga.

Here’s to fragile egos

falling like games of Jenga.

Watch it crumble.

Watch it crumble.


not really humble

a paranoid psycho

afraid to start a conversation—

no typo

but I walk a tightrope

cruising on fumes

running out of hope


that’s the saddest shit I ever wrote.


Photo Cred: Hamza Abdulilah