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I just feel like
an empty shell*

those were
the only words I could find
when asked
to speak more
about how I've been

how can I describe
the way I
when I don't even

an empty
egg shell
split in half
and lying in the trash
whose insides
were fried
to be devoured
by the devil

my own mind

all the same

the fragile
snake skin
leftover from it's owner's
the snake
is nowhere to be found-
just the shed
old skin
of who it used to be

the remnants
of the caccoon
the butterfly
takes it's leave

the box
that your Amazon order
arrived in
nothing left inside,
except packing peanuts

I no longer feel
like a human being
though that statement
I've felt like one
(I haven't)

talking to others
makes me feel real
when I'm next to you
I pretend
there's something inside
of this empty

someone tell me-
what makes me
who I am?
as of right now
I feel like
all I am
a sack of flesh

a lump of meat
with the ability
to be aware of it's
bad decisions

no soul
there's nothing inside
I have
felt whole

it's not just a
of me
that is missing
it's the
My mouth is wrapped in razor wire. The less said the better. Whole worlds are caught between my teeth. My eyes are somewhere between moons, and my nostrils breathe the mist of demons. My earlobes have the jewelry of vast continents. And my throat is strangled with amethyst tears. My hair wraps your shoulders. My pearls touch your belly. And my hands? They flutter like leaves in the wind to catch galaxies. I long to say the three words. But deserts live on my tongue.

Yet it takes only a moment to say goodbye.

(C) 3/7/2016
This is a new style for me. Let me know what you think.

I actually do have a problem with my mouth. A tooth broke off, and it grates against my tongue. Hence the poem.
Tear me in two,
The silver lining of my life has ripped apart,
The pieces of my mind have begun to shift,
My heart is splitting off into different directions,
My inner dialogue wakes up and argues with itself,

What if I misstep?
How do I know what to do?

I'm tired of fighting with my heart and my mind,
I feel as though my brain is in a constant fog,

I'll say to myself,
Everything will fall into place,

But I'm lost,
The devil and angel are hanging out on my shoulders,
Tearing me in two.
I'm crazy,
but what does that make me?
My breath is ragged
from my thoughts.
My thoughts.
My thoughts don't stop.
They jump and leap,
and make circles,
chasing each other.
My thoughts I do not keep --
they keep me.
Is this reason to applaud,
or reason to weep?
"Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of intelligence." ~E. A. Poe
(Yes, this was an assignment.)

Also, I'm noticing that I'm apparently livin' up the whole repetition thing of late... Well okay then.
I want her to be by my side.
She wants him to be by her side.
By me, The Raven.
  Mar 2016 Steven Guevara Betancur
Life is like ***
When i get down on my knees
It is not to pray
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