Poll: scrum-diddily-umpcious
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View poll results: scrum-diddily-umpcious
3 50%
1 17%
2 33%
3 50%
Voters: 6.
5 days, multi-vote. Don't vote for your own.

---Lim f(x) = L---

I see in calculus…”[/I]

The limits of a [B][U]f[/U][/B]ragile heart
become more consistent
with the multiplication of 
one’s e[B][U]x[/U][/B]tinction,
taking one step closer
toward a status recognized by most as
[I][s](clinically)[/s] [B][U]c[/U][/B]ynically deceased.[/I]

Your face, a derivative of bleak,
becoming dead to the very person
who once sought life in your eyes,
like a sudden change in value
putting an end to my involvement.

So now the integers of our love
delve deeper into negativity,
as you remain at -1 and myself at -5
the only thing to make this positive
is for us to [I]divide[/I].

[B][U]x[/U][/B]                                                                     [B][U]c[/U][/B]

[B][U]x[/U][/B]                                             [B][U]c[/U][/B]

[B][U]x[/U][/B]                    [B][U]c[/U][/B]

[B][U]x[/U][/B] [B][U]c[/U][/B]



An infinite series of [B][U]L[/U][/B]oathing.

---What Schrödinger Would Have Written if He Wasn't too Busy---

"...you're a lost cause, if you cared half as much about me as you do about
physics; we'd be married by now!"

Escapism is greater than the sound of sobs.
She fell into my waiting arms,
my brain jumped upon a transverse wave.

Three-dimensional vibrational resonance,
travelling at the speed of light and
controlling space-time creates some sort of

Omnipresence isn't for the faint of heart,
and neither are relationships.
It's always been easier to bend light
than to understand your partner.


A Blackbird, the Ethel of valedictions,
ascends itself on the Synagogues.
We unwind the breadth of redemption;
the façade of Torah.
Beneath the rabbit holes of singularity,
we find ourselves closer to sin.

The calm before the storm
resonates the renaissance of a dying city.
But we mustn’t anticipate the fall of Man
nor must we cascade in continuum.
No one’s going to come and save you
when the Alchemy turns the sun to gold.

The opiate of humanity,
the annunciation from the broken thorns;
we fade by the blowing of the horn.

---Of Pigments And Protons---

The light caged in your eyes
is released, spun of glass and
liquid in shape.
Its texture is ethereal
and it tastes of Argon.
As Noble gases react (clash, collide);
you cry Magentas and bleed of Cyan.
Sum up this nonmetal attraction,
An entrepreneur of Entropic ends.
You have a mastery of
this savage wonder,
as cold and perfect as starlight;
and I drink it, breathe it, bleed it, with every blink.

Sphygmomanometer got your tongue?

The mercury clung,
elastic film holding it together,
in the moment before it unhooked
from the apex of my tongue.
As it glided, the distortions
of Silver made me see the world
not as it is but as it could be.
And in that chilled, trudging
moment, every grey glimmer
became divine in its own right:
The perfect semblance of
Black and White; Yin and Yang,
bound and blended in liquid form.
It was no longer a color,
but all Color. Ultras and Infras both
clasp spectral hands;
an electromagnetic waltz
to the tune of your atomic number,
holding all hope; all hate
in its prism

(more people should voooote)
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.
green is mine
I owe a ton of people critiques.

If you're one of them, please PM me.

I have trouble keeping track.