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Red - Eisly
2 33%
Navy - CTTS
4 67%
Voters: 6.
"Inside a Harbor Where Our Thoughts Are Like Ships: Anchored Down With No Hope of Ever Being Set Free." (Eisly)

Let's all jump in the harbor,
And hit the water at the same time.
See if we can break the anchor lines
Tying down the ships
So the water will pour out,
And we'll be left with a useless dam.

Maybe if you can hold back
The froth swirling back and forth,
Between gaping holes,
You can stop, and listen, and grow.
But everytime they kiss it sounds like
White noise.
White noise.
Static snow falls with a peculiar grace,
And why is it that we have to find art in everything?
For once can't we say it like it really is:
A forged attempt at being something special,
Capsulizing feeling.

The inquisition of the gods, from a Mortals perspective, perhaps.
(Circle Takes the Square)

Yet I was left unscathed-
still shoeprints squander along squalid passages with the dignity of a God.
Lost on the souls left behind in the shade,
lost in the secondary seconds after dark (frayed yet plaid into the fabric of time)
each prevailed like a breath in the mist, an utterance so displayed
as proof enough of their existance, ever should they be heard
or belied by scent trails; their spoors skulk in the yielded cover of their maiden wings
and they stutter not a word.
Hide or be hidden were the words that I spat.
As parades of soiled feet lay prints over the faces of the damned like baptism veils,
complete with stained hands reaching out, competing for the foreheads of the worthy;
(to mark them with a cross) coming ready or not,
from within their sheltered pyre-eyes, (an attempt to distinguish between a glint from a reticent retina and a soul defining glimpse into the blue)
destinies are determined according to the brevity of wills, (upon the strength of man)
every breath you bequeath now is not forsaken in death,
(intrinsically entwined into the pattern of your palms)
come with us, or walk your planar path till the fall, the faint falling
of feathers from the wings of scantly laden maidens descending
onto the pavement beside your sememe headstone. (to spit upon your bones and invertebrate frame)Come with us and be graven with morpheme ideals, (no silenced last words)and hopes that these amphetamine litanies pave the way to morphine eulogies;
for future dream weavers and spirits to haunt and belate this plain
on a basis as regular as rain.
(come with us) For this is your time,
this is your maiden flight towards the surface, after so many steps in the dark,
where we'll prove a tacit feather of redemption fades
faster than faith during an inquisition of the Gods.
-Where yet again, I was left unscathed.

Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
I went for CTTS, whilst both are good to read, I feel Eisly's takes subjects that relate (water, ships, a dam etc) and puts them together, whereas CTTS manages to makes every line link and flow into another.

If that made sense, sorry if it didn't.
The will to neither strive nor cry,
The power to feel with others give.
Calm, calm me more; nor let me die
Before I have begun to live.

-Matthew Arnold

Arguments are to be avoided; they are always vulgar and often convincing.
Quote by The Hurt Within
You too, I loved that piece.

Thank you so much. You don't know how much that means coming from you.

Haha, yeah, I didn't exactly write it for this (It was also for "Brand New", technically, but I think the imagery-filled stuff works for Eisley so I didn't bother) but I was told it was "Lacey-esque" and couldn't think up anything new really so I used it.