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 Nov 2018 Kyle
Melany Garcia
Love isn't real, violets aren't blue, and roses die anyway.
 Oct 2018 Kyle
Lyn-Purcell
Beat
 Oct 2018 Kyle
Lyn-Purcell


-
The music of my life,
harmony and discord,
differs from yours

I dance, solely and
purely, to the beat
of mine own drum
-


Feeling so queasy today....
Ugh.
Lyn ***
 Oct 2018 Kyle
Nyx
Photographs of naked bodies
Positioned across a bed
Seducing one other
By the gleam in our eyes
Dressed with the desirable color of red
Our lips dripping with pure lust
Forever but a mere inch away
Eternally unreachable
As pretend is what we like to play
Trace the outline of my body
Feel the softness of my skin
Dine upon the devils wishes
Give in to this lustful sin
Embrace the coldness of the night
Be intoxicated by our heat
Eyes glazed over from this dream
Slowly lose your willingness to fight
Taste the sweetness upon your tongue
Allow us to quench your thirst
But once you taste heaven gates
You will eternally be cursed
Drunken off the beating sound
Of our hearts within perfect synch
Pleasure induced by feeling Pain
Holding on tighter to that chain
Bruises and bite marks
Littering the skin
Relinquish your demons
Fall captive to that sinners grin
Harsh whispers in the dark
Lips pressed against your neck
Tempt me with such sins
my darling

My dear the night has only begun
Decipher what you truly want
As it seems our game of play is done
Both lost within an ecstatic dream
It appears that neither of us have won
Dirtied souls are all that are left
Without meaning or for reason
What have we done?
an echoing question
The devil replies with a taunting voice
My darling you have become undone
With a sly grin he walks away
Eroding into the dark of night
While the tainted souls
Together with their hands holding tight
A game that they were destined to lose
We have danced with the devil tonight
And it appears he has won.



~
It was a late night and the words were just coming to mind
So I ended up stringing this odd piece together
 Oct 2018 Kyle
Grace Conde
I exist
on the border
between Reality,
and the Imaginary.

I breathe in belligerent Black,
and Withering whites.
I am incapable of grays,
a gradient of gruesome Grief.

I dance on the Border,
exhaling exuberant fragility,
my border is made of glass.

And I rise from the ashes,
a Byproduct of the
bridges I've burned.
Craving soothing touch,
Yet silently seeking
Incriminating Isolation,
Addicted to my own destruction.

A shattered soul dutifully
Dances on the Border,
Held captive by her sins.
Trapped between Good
and Bad. Happiness
and Heartbreak. Lost
and Found. Death
and Resurrection.

Born on the Border, a
Simple Figment of
Immoral Imagination.
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