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Rai Aug 2015
Sore head
Crumpled sheets
The moments before the mind kicks in
The morning after and she turns suddenly
Reaching for her phone
Drunken messages sent after midnight
After downing two bottles of the best red
Oh how cruel can we be to ourselves
Tears fall
There were no words in reply
She was no more to him
How someone could love so powerfully
Then fall away silently
Was something she neither understood nor accepted
She is moving through her grief and turns holding onto memories
Before they too crumble away
Leaving her void of emotion until another foolish Wimb beckons her
She inspects her own fury which is building up in her heart
How dare he wring her out like some used up dish cloth
She pulls her body up heavily
There's nothing that coffee won't fix
Or at least this is what she will tell her frazzled mind
It's going to be a long hungover day
The sun is shining outside
She will curl up and wait for a reply
Always waiting
She holds back
Acceptance and denial all in one breathe
  Aug 2015 Rai
Mitch Nihilist
comfort was a long road that came to a dead
end abruptly. happiness and companionship
left suddenly with the clutch of solace. he
was left standing there in the rain, all senses
disdained. a seeing man now build to ease,
seeing the fellowship of someone that ties
knots in your throat; turns your obscurities
to seize.


                                  distraught



at this very moment the quest for clenches
to console surrounded him with the ignorance
his state of mind was unable to control.
seeking and searching began in the
bedsheets. he found loneliness and
regret; mistake after mistake, temporary impassion
chose what risks to take. drowning in seas of
duvets, suffocation on the stench of
frictioned flesh and smothered in the salinity
pasted on each others skin like the warpaint of
ephemeral happiness, he searched down an
unsearchable road and lost his direction in the
*******; forever ringing his ears with regret. each kiss
down his neck, each bite to his lip, each face-blanketing
exhale, he repents with the ignorance of finding the
will to live and love between the legs of someone who
feels the same way. the crimson crevices carved in his back
drip with remorse and sullen; hoping for once to life the
bedsheets and find an unawakened bundle of coiffure
and serenity and not calamities of regret and ****** suicide
Rai Aug 2015
There was no way out of this
She manoeuvred her body between a stone and a hard place
Picked up her hurting bones
And sighed
Relief ...
Anticipation and fear  running through her veins
How it came to this she couldn't even explain
shivering as a cold chill ran down her spine
Like the stumpy finger of jack frost etching out a delicate and
elaborate design  
Not a night to be out hunting or waiting around
But needs must
The sweet smell of redemption hung tantalizingly on a moment
Time was for surrendering all
Never looking behind
Stepping on stones
There was no way back from now
She turns quickly
A need to hold her breath
has her in a suffocating embrace
A shadow creeping the walls
Beckoning
Lost souls will sell their souls on nights as cold as
snow cover mountains
She breathes in
Closes her eyes and surrenders to the moment
She will awaken only when it is time
No cracks of light lye here
Not even from the broken street lamp
A shiver and a fall from grace*

Be it what you would create with your mind, be she a  ****** waiting for another loveless punter or a stalking blood thirsty vamp  in search of their fill, or maybe the cells  inside her are screaming for a sweet surrender from another corner drug seller .... maybe she is you or I or maybe she is a part of us all
  Aug 2015 Rai
Helen
Chapter 1
No one is ever going to look at you
like you're insane, only the mirror,
as you poke faces at it, while it stares at you, projecting blame, simply declaring you insane as you stare at the back of your head, in the mirror, because even your reflection could not look you in the face, it's not disgrace, it's just an automatic response to the pain.

Chapter 2
When in a grocery store, it's clearly not sane to ask the cereal box to prove their claim of bringing joy to the day, in a Special K way, nor appropriate to argue with said box as you tightly grip it's cardboard bits and demand it kiss you on the lips with its Special K brand.
It's just not okay.

Chapter 3
When tossing pennies in the fountain with a special wish, just let said penny float to the bottom. When wanting to take back said wish, it's clearly not acceptable to strip to your tighty whiteys and yell
Never *****!!! will I spend one cent on you and a useless wish then execute a perfect swan dive into three feet of water then pretend to drown while trying to rescue your wish... Insanity does not work like this! (reference the criminally insane handbook titled I Stalk You For MY Pleasure)

Chapter 4**
Love is a bottomless pit of Insanity. It's like a honey jar that attracts nothing more then a colony of ants, one or two bees, (wondering where their honey went) and a rabid badger that can't ***** off the lid. Aforementioned badger will proceed to pound said honey *** against a rock, perhaps killing an ant or two an maybe a bee, but not gaining access to the honey in a jar that looks like glass but is actually clear titanium, the best protection against Love... see?
It's easy!
there are many.. MANY more chapters...
  Aug 2015 Rai
Helen
in darkness, a world disintegrates
in hell, hope lenders feed the fire
interestingly, as you lay next to me
I'm burning beneath such desire
a little voice whispered wishes
that fell beneath shallow cracks
next to warmth, cloaking subterfuge
bruises appear on uncovered backs
in silence you sleep with the dead
in awareness you fear familiarity
your own cancerous consciousness
finds no utterable, plausible clarity
I'm stable upon the mountaintop
you created from a demons desire
when I descend to the depth of life
will you follow?
or be swallowed by the fire?
it's been another black week... how many times is it possible to rise from the ashes?
  Aug 2015 Rai
Autece Soul
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Rai Aug 2015
I'm proud of the person I've become
It's good to know your worth
Even if at times
My mind tries to tell me I'm worthless and life
Does something stupid to reflect it back at me
Through all the love,the hate and the bloodshed
I really am pleased that I have become
Who I am today
Lessons learnt the hard way, I'm a kind caring person but I am no fool . I like being me.
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