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Lalaouna Amina Oct 2021
I DO KNOW
MY MIND!
DO NOT EVEN TRY
TO PROVE
MY OPPOSITE.
WOMAN
Steven Boston Sep 2021
Beyond the drone of pitiful noise
lays his nightmare silent voice
dark treacle running through
his vindictive veins
shouting for spilled scarlet floods
in the arena of his rebellious reality

We ask
Where
Why
How
is the psyche awakened
of a heinous human

As he premeditates malicious ******
in his razor wire embroiled shell
venting vicious violent thoughts
from his cauldron
overspilling with the essence
of things past

Into abhorent action
it bounces and bounds
'Heres Johnny'
the sun rising for him
as it sets for another
he's lifted from his numbness

adrenaline gushing
through his warped floodgates
saturating the twisted air he breathes
without it he is but a nobody
drowning in the normality
of real reality
Wrote this about what makes a serial killer tick, was for a prompt.
Simon Apr 2021
Space Case is not the advertisement for fear of losing yourself to the very darkness that is blanking out from normal reality and heading into a newer reality, (from which only your own psyche can fictitiously acknowledge, properly).
However way you spin the wonderous find of the gap in your own little sub-space (that is your own even tinier different types of psychological roundabouts...)
Nothing is truly centered in the very lucky situations, where each newly realized predicament isn’t as endearing as you'd first realize them to be.
Carrying out the struggle for the circumstance, that is one's own disembodied state, where such lucky situations...go completely dark!
Now, what's the first ideal of a space case.... Nothing more than what you haven't already knew from before you lost your very first contact with reality.
Since after all, your newly realized ideology is ("reality central") itself!
Things become slightly corrupt when reality central takes center stage, because you have no such management on this sort of (now newly put together source).
It's almost as if you've been entirely thrown into a newer source of energy, that only you and you alone, can bring yourself back out from, (via "your own little reality" itself).
And when your own psyche can once again, fictitiously acknowledge properly, then everything starts to take many tumbles (just so it can reorganize itself back into its original form). Coming directly from the very agreement from its own previous ideals and impressions upon a perspective that danced a little too much), when becoming stuck between two sources of familiar energy sources that signatures the very voice of concern, (or even a voice of caution).
Where everything starts to begin spiraling out of control!
But there's no chaotic tendencies, when consequences become the newer mortality rate...that this very circumstance provides the very presently disturbed predicament that still surrounds itself with such disbelief) over something so sudden, immediate, and radically unexpected!
But that's life, after all. And you can't control what goes on (outside of your own mind's eye). When you truly control what goes on from deep within the very inside itself.
Lastly, what goes around, comes straight on back around...when it truly becomes this scenario (upon many sequences after sequences) that enable you (once again), to hitch up a ride with the very sudden, immediate and radically unexpected realization of such a, well...
Let's pretend (for ONLY just a single moment, before it slips into its own dream sequence or improbable dreamscape, where nothing truly "healthy wise", comes back from that)?!
Which then delivers a type of pressure-free release into (the very such now incredible acknowledgement) of officially knowing that everything that had just built-up (over time) towards this very point in time...
Is nothing more than the ever-lasting, ever-increasingly and never-ending spectacle...of a simulation for "abrupt flaws"!
Because when it comes to such a slithering snake, that is a simulation for abrupt flaws....
Everything begins blurring out of sync!
Then begins distorting the very outside world, as if it was merely a mirage (without "self-acceptance" in itself)!
And when everything completely comes to the very turning point that is fusing together this perfect little bundle of "incomprehensible" joy.
This is when things collapse into a radically self-inducement scenario, where the "head case" (that you once were, on the outside world).
Now officially becomes the newly established Space Case! (Full of primary self-doting commands and actions that consequently, don't fit perfectly in the outside world.
When it was truthfully all about the head case that was meant to evolve into the space case all along.)
"Reality Central" is (as yet again), back up and running!
Begin your newer reality, my friends....
If you’re not already slipping back on into your own such fictitious beliefs again?
When you’re really not accepting the outside world for what it really is. (Except, that's blasphemy!
Only when you don't simply accept your own ideals from within your own heart.)
Being a Space Case is nothing more than for something (or someone) to become what is truthfully your own ideals working (as yet again...) OVERTIME!
Jonathon Wall Jan 2021
How heavy one's thoughts can be
When one's mind pulls them out to sea,
And floods of emotion spur the gale,
Cracking rudder and battering sail,
So fissures in the way one thinks
Widens as ship and psyche sinks,
And the cargo one is forced to bear
Drags them deeper into despair.
What was made clear by surface light
Shall fade in the depths of starless night.
Ever down into the cold and dark,
Crushing pressure shall assail one's heart,
And monsters from nightmares well known
Seek the intruder within their home;
As one tries in vain to hold one's breath,
While terrors consume 'till nothing's left,
And a hollow husk shall reach the bed
Who once was captain aboard one's head.
Saïda Boūzazy Sep 2020
Psyche has moods
Sometime happy, others  gloomy
Psyche  has moods
Sometimes wise,  other times  fool

psyche has moods
Sometimes, I wander
Others, I surrender

Psyche has moods
Sometime melancholic,
Others sanguine
Psyche has moods
sometimes  choleric,
Others phlegmatic
You
what are you,
a husk of what the world demands,
their expectations and beliefs,
but not all is them

Some are your expectation,
but where are they coming from,
what wastelands are these lunatic ideas from,
spawning an undue end.

Psyche of yours,
moulded through hammers of plenty,
in the fire of false pretenses,
is any of you even real

Do you see the small hints,
your true self, the loathful one,
how long will you sustain such ignorance,
false faces on dead ideas

granting their wish to bring down,
with the grace and might of a maggot,
soul of yours will forever question
where do they start and when you end
when you start questioning what you really want and what the world wants you to desire
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
Artistic existing and being,
however it is,
comes from the verge
of the land of sense,
somehow non-consciously
and dazing,
like the prophesying Pythia,
yet not that supernaturally
“Artyści gdzieś na skraju krainy zmysłów.
Z dala od śmiertelników,
gdzie wszystko jest tak ulotne”
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