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drew-renquest
drew-renquest
I like gathering details in life that others don't pick up at putting them into perspective.
I saw it, them kiss. It intoxicated me, fueled me. The pit sank and my smile grew as I felt the heat spread. Out of my eyes and into her body it started to bend into the fibers. I could feel it, the throat peeling off it's char from the painless flame. It slithered up further into the false passion that she was swimming in, swallowing and searing along the way. A silent scream was made but not heard. Their lips seared as the flame made it's final conquest. Smile faded, but happiness achieved . I take their heads, bonded by sealed lips in a temporary lust forever. Staring at each other in agony until the dirt rotted around their filthy skulls.
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Crusher.
This gloom forever bleeding from a puncture-less wound drowns me in blood inside-out. I swallow the insanity and poison myself again just to feel like time is sinking in. Legs growing weaker and walls getting bleaker these stumps cannot take one more step. It's blooming it's screaming it's dying this spirit inside. It can only feast on the inner flesh for so long before it refuses to dine. The fire scorches fueled of hate, blinding me and taking its course. My thoughts cannot reach it, it's far too late. I can't even hear myself think. Smell of smoke and sounds of familiar muffled voices remind of this newly become home. They mumble out "burn it down, let me out"
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Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 8:00 PM UTC
Self-acclaimed Hell.
Sparkling fauna emerald green, organic lifeblood bleeds. Molten blasting magma screams, brimstone preacher speaks. Freezing water frigid creeps, Poseidon's clarion shrieks. Blackness, ****** human greed; Gaea's suffering. Corrupted souls, riddled with filth. Void of empathy and guilt. Crossed with fate, blind with hate. Tear the fibers, desecrate. Unholy thoughts to Hell dedicate, quickened pulse, frightened rate. Can't run away, horrid dreams mutate. Steel fangs in neck with death's weight. Child of stars and moon, watercolor streak crystalline. Metal mind fragment, bristling tesla machine. Lightning-blue bloodstreams. Twisted man's being, child of nothing. Made hellish and free. Stitched visage shows war-torn beast, ghastly and crazed, shivering bleak freak. Corpulent avarice, altered being, raised to moonlight, stricken, striking. Drained by bloodletting, desiccated. Once live and free but now ill-fated. Skin like armor, baneful valor. Built to survive and smother the cowards. Towering servant to the unholy knave. Servant to the call of the endless grave.
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:06 AM UTC
Abomination.
A brush melds with canvas, releasing feelings so long oppressed. a ****** mess, a haunting duress, nature's caress… A painting so vivid, lust for adventure intrepid, rushing streams, ambience in earful, why can't life be this beautiful? Musicians play, painters paint, a journey to alternate reality so faint. Escaping pollution and worldly restraint body and soul become twain, imagining what could have been. Nature's figure, flawless, uncorrupted Death, anointed and serene, portrayed in cascades, dissonant, by the marionette of dreams.
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Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Hinrichtung.
Stature and sturdy I stand. Firm and impervious to harm. Windows gazing at you from afar, heckling at my presence. Have I ever been cold, ever discomfort you? To every discomfort a laugh in return. Drunken stutter of footsteps shove onto the polished wood, before beautiful to the touch. Now trampled and beaten. Scraping the walls with your bitter hands, the paint thins. Exposing frame and withering of beauty, you despise your home. Rebuilding and painting over the rips. Temporary happiness befriends a façade. I settle and sit, content at last, to feel a sharp scorch at my back. I’ve been set ablaze to find a dead match in your palm. A dissatisfied smile you wear with pride. To bring you happiness is to watch me fall, so I crumble with delight, only to feel plaster being slapped at me again. The walls become nothing but old paint, discolored and frail, and weak mold. Of what used to be so whole and warm, the cold halls have no memory. Doors sealed and blinds shut, not even sunlight has greeted these corridors. To build then to burn brings you pleasure. The attic still lays untouched. Warm walls and the scent of life still alive to where you didn’t know. A neighbor you find, having more appeal to your toxic eye. Her walls still fresh with new paint. You pack your matches and drink your malice. She welcomes you to see your false innocence. The key still so effortlessly left under the doormat, I can still smell the burned oak.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
Little House.
Sun falling through clouds, breaking the day. Singeing the innocent bystanders that shield you from the gray. Eyes roll back to the uncontrolled world. On your heart lay your hand, fingernails engraved with stories of old. How the red seeps from the sad crease, how you fell for her second face. So easily mislead, trust always falling out of your pocket. Tucking it so deep that the seams rip. To reach but not to find, her hands are stained but she wears a smile. Palm carry nothing but old blood and regret. Wash away with your tears and walk the road. She'll be waiting at the tide, her nails telling of the same story that someone once lied.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
Road of Old.
Sun's warm embrace, rock me into a familiar slumber. Making the memories come out of the cold, branding back into my flesh once more. Swing set swing, mockingbird scream, oh how we used to sing. Flushed away with an echo of your calling voice, here comes the rain. God's hand couldn't shield from the droplets, falling onto my face reminding me of what used to be. A laugh off in the distance, ever so faint but one of my own. I can't hear you dear sister, so I venture closer. Opening the gate find crouched, the small hand. Rain drop again.. ..small hand vanished.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
Rain Drop Reminiscence.
These two paths Both mostly lit by other's lanterns. Echoing with hisses of different answers. Heart battle loyalty Where do I truly lie? Which hand do I untwine? Clock ticks, licks lips, sparing for solid words. I sit and ponder with my own lantern: dim and rusted. Staring into the flame I see the glisten. Ahead the path, these light coming back. What am I to do? What do I say? This is the end oh dear loved one. I have chosen hand over name.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
Lantern's Sight.
Breathing in the same heat, ageless and tired, nothing fresh to offer except for the stale grain. This heat living inside others but their faces are blank, stale and robbed of hope. Ears ringing with the same answer, same response, same wishes all from the parched mouths of these breathers. Looking into dirt has more truth than you could ever tell. They slither closer, scarred scales beating down the desperate dirt, always thirsting for relief. Come now, can't you bare your ****** neck once more? Feel teh unrelenting burn as you feed me false venom. Awaiting the light, I sit in this heat. Keeping my straight face so I can't be brought to the shallow state. I wonder. Is it the same light the parched already await?
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
Parched Existence.
Squirming in this black veil I flail around for the opening. All you can do is weave more thread. Take your needle tongue and stab at the veil. Ripping out so I can see what this thread spells out of the constant blinding shade. I have thrown this veil into the shadows so many times but I still stand in the tangling.
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Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
To see the Black Passion.