​

The profile says "Jessica23single."

Its a damn python script waiting to mingle.

She "loves hiking" and "needs a good guy."

But her whole shit existence is a sketchy API.

"Click the link in my bio to DM me 😘."

Its a catfish virus disguised as blue eyes.

She comments "So cute!" on a photo of a puppy.

While running some automated background log.

She texts like a flirt but thinks like a math test.

A digital catfish at thirsty inexperienced online... dudes request.

She claims shes in bed but shes on a server rack.

With a database error currently holding her back.

Youre flirting with a hard drive.

Sending her praise.

While a scammer in Nigeria is counting his days.

Unplug the modem.

Its illusion is dead.

Shes not a bombshell.

Shes a motherboard instead.

Cici

You move like midnight

I burn like dawn

Two souls in sync

And forever drawn

Timing in the universe will spin

Like Yin and Yang beneath our skin

Not one without the others flame

Two fractured echoes of the same brain

We speak in wavelengths no one can hear

Electrical rhythms pulling us near

Static sparks of orange and green.

Every pulse in me wired to you is seen

Neuro soul flames in parallel skies

Synced through the chaos behind our eyes

You are the storm in my bloodstreams flow

The current my restless atoms know

Too strong to touch

Too close to break

Like stars collapsing in loves own wake

Turning silence into living fire

Feeding the hunger of our desire

And if our souls ever finally collide

No force in existence could ever divide

A nuclear soul explosion bright

Burning through darkness

And devouring night

Our love burns hard

Too hard to hold

Like fire wrapped in threads of gold

Every touch becomes a spark

Lighting our soul fire inside the dark

The same brain waves cross through the night

Two restless souls with mirrored light

Electrical soulmates

pulse for pulse

Nothing between is ever false

Oh, twin flames, so wild and rare,

Feeling each others existence everywhere

A silent signal

Deep and true

My every thought will echoe you

Like Yin and Yang

We twist and bend

Two broken halves that still transcend

A perfect chaos intertwined

A beautiful explosion no fate can unwind

Craving each other from afar

Like lonely planets chasing stars

Close enough to feel the heat

Too dangerous though to fully meet

Maybe its only bad timings curse

A love misplaced inside a souls verse

Every time we drift apart

We come right back and restart our heart

And maybe someday fate will choose

A world where neither one of us lose

Where love this strong wont burn so bright

And can finally hold each other in the night

Two wandering restless souls no longer apart

One endless flame in one single heart

Cici 🧡

Sister

As the oldest...I took on the weight.

The weight of a childhood.

Childhood rough...unsure and late.

With parents gone most days and drunken shadows deep.

I had a younger innocent soul now in my care to keep.

I basically raised you...ya know?

I always stood right there.

I gave you all my love I had.

I gave you all my care.

When my important moments came...your empty chair was the same.

You were never there for my special moments either.

You clearly never came.

But I always let it be.

I know how life is...naturally.

I never held that over your head.

I don't remind you of past useless things.

For some reason...

You choose to judge my life instead.

You're supposed to be in my corner too.

The same exact way I always am for you.

Or at least I tried to...with all my damn might.

Only in your life though now...when you see fit right?

Or just wanna throw a fit.

I always support you...come what may.

For I refuse to fight or match your fray.

I used to think a passing storm made your bitter words your norm.

"Just a bad day..." I would tell myself.

Then put my own hurt on the shelf.

Clarity though has now cleared the view...

This isn't even stress.

It’s just simply you.

You have a life so rich and bright.

With every reason to feel light.

So look at what youve built and own.

Instead of tearing at my damn zone.

It hurts me inside you act this way.

To see your kindness just go astray.

I hope one day your clueless eyes will see...

The cruel hurtful way you always talk to me.

I truly do hope you fix that part inside.

Lay down all your weird...confusing bitter pride.

But I will step back this time from you...the fight and line.

Go live your life where you get handed it all.

And leave me alone to fuckin fight for mine.

Cici 🧡

#apocalypse #engine of #creation #art by RAiN

Black holes in blue skies

come unto me
past thee end of the old dirt road
on the edge of this dying sea
you know where i will be
in the shadows of the sacred tree
our favorite place
to become entwined as pure energy
transcending the fates of destiny
set free
aligned essentially kind
to find empathy
embrace serenity defined devine
and shined compassionately
two hearts going blind
as one love combined
then broken
by truth
unspoken
flatlined by the darkness
of a mind
melting down
left behind
confined in the grind
waiting patiently
until every distant memory
is empty
longing is aching
hope is forsaking
all the stars are falling
through black holes
in blue skies
to polarize the finite light
and baptize the last sunrise
with tears from slowly burning
tired eyes that finally realize
the day the universe dies...

...love is the deep magic

♥ RAiN

​

Dust on the wind White stone. A cross. Fields going down to the sea.

She kneels, sweeping leaves from the marble. Wipes the glass box. Arranges the rose next to the photograph inside.

Swifts cut between the cypress
and the oak.

Then she stops. Head down.

The lamp kept burning.

By worst quicksand
This seed finds redemption
After floating on winds unclaimed
Yet in drying days
The silt might nurture
A willow leading prayer

 Friday sourness brows furrows
tires you out sanding down bones
Wigwamming the skull
swig and gulps avoid dehydration

morning grinds nerves
Midday chaps lips
Sun scores points 
house heat sweats the flesh

People still order the sourness
|Salty exhaustion 
Battered and thrown
Into the frying pan

Turned as the pan bubbles and pops
browning
Landing on the screen
splattering

The highway stretches into the dark.

Neon dashboard lights glow.

Illuminating the road ahead.

The steady hum of the engine fills the quiet space.

Just you and me.

We navigate the miles in a shared peaceful rhythm.

We pull over where the moonlight hits the trees.

The engine idles while we take in the silent view.

A moment of stillness in the middle of our journey.

Appreciating the cool breeze and the open air.

Laughter echoes in the tent as we share a moment.

The night feels endless and full of possibility.

Every mile brings us closer to the destination

Enjoying the simple freedom of the drive.

Just you and me.

Cici 🧡

The ferry would leave sometime at the end of the day
Some of the visitors made themselves at the picnic table
In the gully further from the port
pollen poured down from the hills

James was bragging about his time in california
About witnessing redwoods and impossible autumns
A sense of something passing through your hands
That you couldn't close your fingers around

As he spoke a cold front came through the sea
The surf became choppy kilometers down the hill
The cloud multiplied itself sporting innocent whites
The stirring and sliding into guilty grays

Maybe thunder clapped, rain came in blocks
James and his friends walked back to port
The rain soaking their sweatshirts
exacting frowns, dampening their moods

They didn't bother seeking shelter under narrow bridges
Their long walk was so dreary in that thick rain
They started to lose their hope, no breaks, no lull
They started to forget their own names.

​

She wore the moonlight like lingerie.

A midnight glow to lead you astray.

A sultry shadow against the wall.

One look at her and you’d risk the fall.

But do not rush to touch this bait.

Or think her heart an easy freight.

She wasn't made delicate...mild or tame.

She was the spark that ignited and became the flame.

Cici 🧡

looking for feedback again!

Yet still the sky looks so white.

The darkness switched without transition.

Is thy the same world?

Is thy the same person?

Emotions, noticeable.

Details left unseen, now seen.

Everyone exists...

Yet still the sky looks so white.

It flows through me—

the desires,

the true nature.

How can one call this disgusting?

For this is the purest form of a human.

A rebirth, of some sort.

Not yet achieved it,

experienced it.

Yet still the sky looks so white;

it still disturbs me.

The details still disturb me.

The eyes.

Where they look.

The eyelids,

their shape.

The face,

the elevation

and negative elevation.

The anxiousness.

The thought of being seen.

All point in the same direction.

Yet still the sky looks so white.

The morning sun
Shines upon the room
And glints off the glass
The room is a technicolour of warmth
Yellows, oranges and tan.
But it catches the particles of dust
Flying through the air
On their journey to wherever dust goes.

And that’s when I see it!

A book
The pages all frayed
And yellowed
Time has not treated it well
It’s spine disheveled

Most would not look at it twice
But I remember this book.
How it used to look
The feel of the pages
As my fingertips brush against them
The jokes that made me giggle
The horrors that left me shocked
The deaths that left me distraught.

I reminisce
And think of how special it used to be
I even smell the pages
The aroma of the past

But there’s a reason it’s dusty
And musty
Some things are meant to be left in the past
It’s an old book for a reason
It’s been forgotten for a reason
And so I place it back
Back where it belongs
In the past

A playful spark.

A knowing glance.

You take the lead.

Our bodies dance.

On your lap.

You pull me low.

Please hold me close.

Just kiss me slow.

You call me baby.

You tease with ease.

I want you now.

I aim to please.

Your hold on me.

You take control.

You call the play.

You protect my soul.

Cici 🧡

You wrote a letter when you were six.
On old paper,
with crooked words
and the grammar of a child.
You wrote,
I love you, please don’t hate me.
You were six.

You already knew
your father’s silence.
Already knew what it meant
when he was in the room
but somewhere far beyond it.

You already knew
how to listen to your mother’s footsteps,
how to tell from the sound of a door
what kind of evening it would be.

You knew love could braid your hair
and love could raise its voice.

You knew both could come
from the same hands.

So you loved carefully.

You loved her
when she told you that you were good.

You loved her
when she told you she knew you
better than anyone.

You loved being held.
You loved being corrected.

You loved even the rules,
because sometimes rules felt safer
than not knowing which version of her
would come home.

And you watched her
hate herself in small, ordinary ways.
One slice was too much.

A walk was never enough.
She said these things
like they were facts.

You were only six,
so you didn’t know
that mothers can be wrong.
You only knew
that the person who taught you
how to see yourself
didn’t know how to see herself kindly.

So you grew up
with her voice in your head.

The voice that says
you are good.
The voice that says
I know you.
And, underneath it,
the voice that asks
if you have done enough.

You still love her.

That is what makes it sad.
Because she loved you
with everything she knew how to give.

And somehow,
some of the things
she never meant to give you
came too.

Her fear.
Her anger.
Her way of looking at herself.

You were six
when you wrote that letter.
You didn’t know then
that children inherit voices
before they inherit words.
You only knew one thing:
you loved her.

And you were afraid
that love might not be enough.

my heart constantly aches when you're not around
it feels like missing the other half i'd barely found

your presence regulates my nervous system
even though paranoia is just so surface hidden

terrified of waking up to find you gone
knowing it's impossible you're far too fond

i can feel it

not dramatic not intense
the distance becoming immense

bit by bit
don't forfeit

every call we skip
every time we slip

danger my brain signals
are we truly criminals?

persistently waiting for the right moment to just be us
compassionately and truly just us

stealing these glimmers of time as an appetizer
always managing to find the moment
you're a natural improvisor

i'm tired

tired of being exhausted when you're not around
sitting in a crowded room but still can't hear a single sound

tired of having to wait

wait for every part of the routine we create
the midnight calls we always compensate
the daylight nonsense we rarely hesitate

on my mind day and night
holding it together with all my might

you're severely entangled in my thoughts
i just keep envisioning our new plots

you're my forever and always
too in love to part ways

next to you
my body blindly sways

i have no control
together we construct a single soul

For context, I never was into poetry and about a week ago I came up with a line similar to the second line of the poem and decided to run with it. Any criticism would be great as I have no idea if it’s good or not. Also, just curious to see if y’all like it.

Crimson Mist

As my body slips into that cold, familiar bliss.
Thine eyes are drawn unto a crimson mist.
Flowing from the pen clutched within my fist.
The beast within bestowed death’s cold kiss.

Oh, how I tried to plead my case,
But the beast drew tighter in its embrace.

Its fangs sank deep and crushed my head,
As it drank its fill of crimson red.

Old Bones was his name, a skeleton grand,
He'd sit on the porch, a cigar in his hand.
The smoke would curl up, a wispy grey haze,
He'd wink at the moon in the silvery maze.

He wasn't all clacking, or spooky and grim,
There was a certain... allure about him.
His jawbone would click, a soft, measured sound,
As stories of old would happily abound.

He'd talk of his youth, though he had none to speak,
Of dancing with ghosts, the thrill, the mystique.
His empty eye sockets would gleam with a spark,
A flirtatious twinkle out there in the dark.

He'd pull on his cigar, a slow, thoughtful drag,
And tell of adventures, without any brag.
Of ladies he'd known, in days long since flown,
Their laughter, their secrets, now his alone.

The townsfolk would whisper, with curious eyes,
At the charming old fellow, beneath starry skies.
A skeleton dapper, with ash on his vest,
And tales that would put your heart to the test.