hateful and unapologetic at its finest degree.
cutting and breaking the limbs of our lungs and the safety of our minds.
you walk alone at night, to only find yourself at peace with the crickets singing a symphonty of sonnets and sonatas. the way the lights swirls under the lights towered over the pavement. mist is your friend at this point and the only solace youve had for 5 minutes. the air is sweet, but it will never be sweet enough for me.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
There is nothing better than
your eyes looking like the
moonlight under
the sonata
The feeling of ecstasy running through
your very veins
Everything is content and
at ease with our nature
Oh old crooked piano,
shining through your very eyes, rolling at the peak - the nature
Tilting and rolling our heads with every
quiver and quaver
Shaking out salt through our pores
Hearing every movement, feeling it assault you
with dopamine and the
interminable display of serotonin.
If I were to die,
right at this very moment
I'd allow caducity to threaten me with its structure,
and to touch every part of me with its sweetness.
Not only that but its
every movement,
every ******
every crescendo
and i'd allow it to rock me back and forth
soothing every bone and every follicle.
I'd allow it to run right through me,
until my ebullience is no longer.
I shall be free.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
My voice is louder than the amphetamines that pump through my system,
Like a myriad of violins,
preaching on a soapbox.
Surrounded by self-proclaimed writers,
who control their mindless devotions with their pen to paper.
They believe,
not only in themselves,
but in the system.
They don't challenge what's really happening,
and is instead,
hazed by propaganda.
I am told that confidence is one thing,
and being self sufficient is another.
But i think they amalgamate to each other,
like the rivers do in my head.
We wonder,
what if the dust on the moon really is acidic?
what do we do then?
I give my money to my hierarchy above,
and I challenge what really is happening.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC
euphoric and proud, we danced like the children we were supposed to be,
brushing pencil shavings off our desks like our mothers did to our hair.
forming daisy chains like dignified humans.
The Sun beams on our faces as if it was designed to highlight our youth.
*A punch in the gut, a knife drawn to the heart,
the inability to entangle a simple breath.
You lift the crease of your face up to seem gracious.
You lift your chest up to see if it will split, like the carcass of a rabbit that didn't quite decay underneath all that snow.
Your pulse softens like the tiny pieces of eraser entangled with faded words.
Your chest takes longer to inhale and only you and everyone else around you knows whats coming.*
Cracked lips was the worst that we ever suffered.
Your breath is still warm and it still comforts the animals that surround your mouth
Lucy is talking about how her father fed her pigs and then slaughtered them. I think to myself, this is strange behavior.
I know that your calloused fingertips caught on the cotton of her sleeves when you finally reached caducity. They told be that it was slow and pain free, and usually the mouth will taste of salt. That day was when the alloy of the sky grew to meet with the clouds, where salt loved to hide away. Your soon-to-be corpse was finally concluded, and I forgot to say goodbye.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
We lay there,
heavy breathing and sweat
accumulated in the stratosphere,
My head on your chest,
Like the process of auscultation,
Childs play and the air is sweet,
My intellectual wonders and dances around,
Like sweet ballerinas on a stage.
And I wonder,
"How long will you last,
how long will you stay before you have to go?".
Like tears exuding down a gutter,
I cease the liquid from flooding
and I instead enjoy the moment.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Laying in the algae bed,
Soaking up the sunshine,
Festering in the daytime hours,
No one knows your name,
You never sleep at night.
There is a cure for this,
It all starts with one deep breath,
But the air was never sweet enough,
Underneath your fingertips.
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
She stared into the vacuum of melancholy,
still unsure of what the word meant.
With the devils piercing eyes penetrating her skull,
but that was okay because she still didn't understand what religion was.
Her heart full of love, and not a single trace of hate.
Childish behavior was deemed acceptable because she was a child.
It was the crickets song,
the lonely moon just floating - smiling.
Lightning striking the asphalt made the night even darker.
As she took one step,
the devil took two.
Soon her steps became tiresome and short,
and the devils became bold and long.
That's when the crickets got arthritis.
Her globular organs changed into a dark colour.
She faithfully fed her pet pig and then slaughtered it.
Strange behavior.
The candle burns in memory,
youth passed away.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
thinking that this was it.
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
wanting to die at the age of 14 because the I felt the life I had lived was unbearable.
When someone makes you feel like **** all the time you feel like there is no escape.
No, it wasn't the bullies at my school.
It was my mother.
My mother who had drove me to my attempted suicide.
Hounding at me for days, ripping me apart like a tough piece of meat, and these vicious attacks that would leave me numb like diamorphine would.
The only way I could escape was drugs.
Drugs that would make me feel dead, but also alive.
Swimming around in my blood like a sardine looking for its school.
Blood pounding, heart rushing, adrenaline pumping.
And when it was over?
I would find myself in the emergency room at 4:00 AM with my arm hooked up to a saline drip, like a prisoner who was to be interrogated.
I'd wake up with thirsty eyes and a mouth stale with the taste of *****
The tribulation was unbearable,
with every inch of my body griping for more of the substance.
I felt like I was tangled up in branches like ligaments that would only break once you cut them with a scalpel.
Then I met you.
It was like I didn't need the drugs anymore, but I did need the scalpel,
and you were my ******
You were addictive like a drug and I always came back for more.
You tasted so fine,
like beef but softer.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM with the sound of police banging of my door.
I think they found out little secret.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC