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5.4k · May 2014
Clever Suicide
I don't want to **** myself and leave my kids
without a father,
like me.

I'd better do it now then.
The color palette isn't bright anymore.
A fatherless man is just guessing.
(To be honest.)
2.0k · Jun 2014
Blue faced God,
He's Melted on the ground.
My heart is trapped in a pod,
It's broken and left proud.

There is pain between my teeth,
Wrapped in marmalade sheets.
I'm unable to walk, or talk,
In my path are ****** defeats.

I was never young, buy always aware.
Unsure if those sticky truth were
Merely cracked lies, like the ones
Inside of me.
1.2k · Apr 2014
bordered rooms
I can't love you while you hide,
Behind your masquerades and lies.
Your tongue itself is my crime,
Paperback truths and lucid time.

You ravaged me.
left rusted, cold razors in my eyes.
My conscious needs a piece of peace.
Parallel eyes meet parallel crimes.
1.2k · Nov 2014
my body betrayed me
My body betrayed me
When it felt my skin
On yours.
It shivered and
It always wanted more.
There is glass
In my chest;
Nothing more.
Blue is color
Of lovers;
June is no more.

Eyes betrayed I by
Letting you cut me
And break me,
So please,

No more.
1.2k · Apr 2014
I remember when I fell in love with the color
color blue.
I was pulling on your dress all the while
everything else fell over and became
charcoal grey. 
You wouldn't  pay any attention to me,
and that made me feel
My heart turned black and screamed out your name,
but you had nothing to say. 
You were busy cutting cleaning your sins from your hands. 
I close my eyes as hard as I can,
and still.
No other color.
Just blue. 
I still pull on your dress in my dreams asking for you attention. 
My lucid dreams never change. You still won't look down
at me.
1.1k · Feb 2015
A woman named Emma
A woman named Emma
decided this was the day to die.
For you see, She was tired
of her writings,
of this dilemma;
the dilemma of life.

She made herself eggs;
of course with butter and toast.
The coffee had never tasted better,
Even though she still felt remorse.
She put her tongue back in her throat.

After breakfast she showered and put on a dress.
She dared to not wear make up;
this way the day to be not like the rest.
This was the day to wake up.

Emma walked out the door and left it ajared
It was pointless to lock it now.
She threw her keys into the neighbors porch.
"Good riddance," she thought,
Of this and all the clever sorts.

She walked for mile upon mile,
and it never occurred to her;
she would never see those smiles;
and for this she felt vile.
"I'm sorry."

The thing about black dye though,
that is never said aloud.
The who, what, where, and hows
matter little to a broken soul.

Emma continued towards that west coast;
this way the day to Die.
"This is an homage to Virginia Woolf," she thought.
At this point she was unable to cry;
just go on and Die.

Those journals of Kafka
and machismo of Hemingway
do nothing for her now.
Writers are the worse lovers,
they are born with no heart.

They all react much to quickly.
This is all cliche.
1.0k · Jun 2014
You were happy today
You were happy today.
I could tell by the things
you didn't say.
You are now an angel with wings.
1.0k · Jul 2014
NIRVANA (The Band)
White wings mixed in with purple paper.
That is the angel for me.
Bold letters and special guest,
this is the band I need.

"I love you, I'm not gonna crack"
972 · May 2014
There is this man who makes me bleed
every day.
It doesn't make any sense.
Let it go they say.
I am five and I like the color blue.
Hazy but still, there it is.
You are a wingless angel, but still,
I look up to you.
966 · May 2014
There are rainbows trapped in
Colorless cracks.
Their color has been ****** out
By others.
For others.
The *** is empty.
949 · Jul 2014
Do not
Do not hate.
Do not devastate.
Do not discriminate.
Do not pray.
Do not try and escape.
Do not change.
Do not think me strange.
My Rapture occurred on a friday night.
That's when I first reaped autumns rewards.
Dying leaves left lovely reminders,
or lessons;
Vultures cannot be trusted with love.
Forced rhythms are false to the ear and
dead to sight.
They fly over the carcass, waiting to strike the wicked.
Vultures cannot be trusted with love.

One hand gives you solace.
The other gives you sin.
Ice cold autumn winds wail a song to the blue sky,
vultures cannot be trusted with love.
923 · Jul 2014
I made you a God
I stood on a city corner and cried.
I heard a car horn and sighed.
The light turned green at the crosswalk,
but I did no such thing.

This was our city.
Those were our car rides.
I want to blame you and call you names, but I can't.
August' scent is peaceful, just like you were for me.
I made you a God.

The devil in me did that.
923 · Jul 2014
Beyond my windowsill
A grasshopper is dead on my windowsill.
It's hopped its last hop.
A bee rest gently next to it.
It's rested on its last flower.
Beyond that though, they are alive.
They aren't alive in the archaic sense,
but their footprint is all around us,

beyond my windowsill.
These lions dance behind pinballed tongues.
They pounce towards my face;
only my face.
I'm still alive.
They know only ***** seeps out of me.
Where there once was blood,
now is bile.

"Live at the Apocalypse Cabaret"
887 · Jul 2014
the stained letter
Black blotches dry on the brim of the
Yellow paper.
This pen cannot breathe tonight.
It's tired of your sad love letters.
Behind that cracked mirror is you.
It's the oh so painless visible truth.
That's you in front of you.
What a beautiful view.

You ate me up like my mothers
fresh cooked meal.
You've broken my seal.
Let us sit, enjoy this meal made out of pieces of me.
Look down and see;

What a beautiful view.
880 · May 2014
Vowels are dug deep, into these pits
That go straight to hell.
(My heart).
Consonants burn in a pile of
Maggots and trash.
(Your heart).
I'll sell you these words if you buy
Me a shovel.
I'll put these letters together and I'll go through the trouble.
(For you).
My red pen is out of ink.
Those ripped up papers have suicide
All.over them.
Burn them with the maggots!
Burn them with the maggots!

This mattress has secrets to tell.
It has your **** smell.
859 · Aug 2014
The green night in July
He sliced me up in a way that meant love.
He killed what was left hidden beneath my bed.
There are dried fruit baskets from lovers I've yet to scorn.
Suicide, let me take a break.
You've become singular in a plural world.
Of course the flowers dance when you wear that summer dress.
They can't take that from you;
Not on this night, under the summer unknown.
Golden rewards pull on my hair, like a submissive ex lover.
It took my favorite brooch, my mothers white brooch.
It was given to me before I was reborn again.
Suicide, let me take a break.
855 · May 2014
I remember the baggage you had,
Tagged with everyone that
Hurt you.
There are miracles in there because
There you are.
Still standing.
Still a believer in heaven and hell.
The ******* can never know they
Did this,
To you.
Keep this secret stuck in your throat.
Cover your mouth!

It might escape,
Like your
It must be dropped into the Catacombs;
my love for you that is.
Lucid lights tremble as I choose to forget you,
the taste of you that is.
I wore white gloves when I touched you;
your sultry skin that is.
I traced the freckles from head to toe, on
your sultry skin that is.

Tailors knitted my love for you deep in my lungs.
When I breath now, black dye excavates my body;
those are the memories of you;
Those are the secrets of you.

It must be trapped in the Catacombs,
my love for you that is.
In between my pillows, I smile.
The Catacombs have buried my love for you.

I don't have to anymore.
823 · Dec 2014
Windshields hide Him from me.
The touch of man; the sin is mine.
The accident left me buried at fifteen.
Death came from me then.
I thought death could not reach me
through these ***** windshields.
IT can though, the death that lives.
821 · Aug 2014
Cadavers and Halloween
I'm would find cadavers
in your heart
(If I really wanted to look.)
Bones and permanent shocked looks
on their cloud white skulls
(Those ***** lovers of yours.)
How they once meant
the world to you.
Now, They have no importance.
Like a Jack O' Lantern after the children
stop pretending to be monsters.

Some will be though;
they just have to grow.
Like those lovers of yours,
until you're able to let go.

Ring up your white flag.
Give up, let go;
no more.
My eyes cry out dead flowers.
Each petal is wet on the cold ground,
laying there oh so very proud.
I could stare at them for hours.

There is beauty in rotting things
Can't you see?
There is beauty in old meanings
Even if they make you bleed.
Beyond those pages of yours are truths,
and lies.
In these binders are clues,
for this life.
Reap the rewards of a good poem,
and please,
don't be afraid to die over and over,
within these books.

Miracles turn yellow over time.
Look at how they crumple when wisdom meets
but only when it's right.
Young child of mine.
Indestructible only within my pages,
don't be afraid to come with me and die,
over and over again.
787 · May 2014
Totem poles can kiss the sky,
In the same way I kiss you.
Unstable is my spine when I am
Near you.
I forget the color black exists.
My cheeks fill with butterflies.
I swear I can fly to all the deadly
Exaggerations in poetry,
Along with love, make sense.
God how I question everything about my black heart when you float to me.
I swear that my heart must not be red,
But rather,
A sultry blue.
Those three words are just words,
If that, at my best,
It's all I can give.

You are suicides other half.
I'll call you hope.
If you happen to fall in love with me,
just know, and this is so,
I will be your sunshine and your rain.

I apologize for both.
757 · Jan 2015
The Words Unsaid
This feeling that is fleeting;
It lays between peace and chaos.
It is the dandelions singing,
Everything found can be lost.
Those creatures linger in my head
Hoping for a romance instead of death.
Suicide hides in clouds full of rain;
The only way to leave things unsaid.

Dance upon my body.
It is barely July.
Those dandelions can't sing anymore.
Fire and ice; it is the best lie.

There in a steel plate in my head.
The operation was botched.
It is time to leave those words unsaid.
I'm not ready for that everlasting shock.

Drown me with my beautiful collection;
The yellows and the whites.
They dance without partners,
That's what nature is for.
Human nature and mother nature;
Come save me now.
Suicides hides in clouds full of rain;
I need to leave these words unsaid.
728 · May 2014
I have lightning in my pen.
If you look closely you'll see
Bodies and burnt

The light is as bright as your
Summertime sadness.
(It's as obvious too.)

Nature cries when it's cold
In your heart.

She's drowning in you.
700 · May 2014
There is a rock stuck between my toes
It's gets sharper with every step
Yet when I go to remove it,
it isn't there.

There is a blade stuck on my tongue,
thats done its job too many times before.
Cuts can only be cut to a point
where what is left is only
the truth.

Pain sweeps through my chimney throat and
roars back out,
a music note is what emerges.
Out of hell comes a lesson,
but before that comes
his voice.
His name.
His tongue.
His touch.

That's the rock stuck between my toes.
That's the reason the blade is pointless now.
682 · Jul 2016
The wrong person
Might say the
Right words;
She's gone.

Faster than fast.
It isn't right.
In fact it's
Wrong. You lost.
677 · Apr 2015
divorce (haiku)
Divorce, like a scab,
Might heal the wound, but the scar
Is always present.
669 · Jul 2016
To some, broken is art.
The canvas disagrees.
To some, shattered is
The victim of what was.
666 · Apr 2014
what I know
My heart beats shadows from the past,
Rusted fingernails stuck in my back.
Each word is clogged in my throat.
I only ***** shards of dried ink.

I only know the mess left on the floor.
666 · Jun 2014
Writers Block
Another day left locked up in the back of your head, but yet,
you forgot to write again.
Drinking leftover whisky and clutching at your throat, oh ****,
you forgot to write again.
Reading a book you found under your bed, you feel alive again,
so you pick up a pen.
The paper is ready and you're unable to breathe, when suddenly,
you remember,
I never knew how to write.
It happened again.
I'm dead.
666 · Jan 2015
Icarus and his golden heart
The corners of my heart and head
Have had a falling out.

Look! It is Icarus coming for a new set of
Wings; maybe a heart.
We can all use another one.

The golden threads have melted away,
All in the case of pride and impatient flight.
Listen child, for there is much to both learn,

And unlearn.

Suicide and death have separate rooms, just like youth and cleverness do.
Take one without the other;
There's your incomplete lover.
It took him death to see his mistakes.
Fathers know all, except how to stay.

Those hearts left to rot inside the corpses;
I'm sorry we forgot about you.
Look! Icarus lives!
Father knows best in times of death.
That said...those wings are made of sin and wax.

He still lives though.
It still lives though.
The corners of my
Head and heart have
Had a falling off;

A falling out.
663 · May 2014
A faithless angel rest on one shoulder.
The damaged one hangs onto the other.
They are throwing daggers between my ears.
I'm unaware of why they are sad though.
Even the impossible quite on themselves.

It needs to die eventually.
You cannot live this way.
662 · Jul 2014
riverboat suicide
Hate hides behind motherly kisses.
It festers deep within those gargoyle hisses.
It scabs over, but never truly heals.
The right person can unearth them,
Like time capsule seals.
Daddy, you were sometimes there, but always scared.
My father was a child before, until you became his thorn.
Concrete steps were your way into his heart.
Looking back, that idea wasn't very smart.
Those scabs in the past are left feeling damp.
They never truly heal and I feel like a *****.
636 · May 2014
This ******* filled sky,
As white as Ice hides angels behind
Those dancing stars.
I don't want to die tonight.
I've killed myself like Clockwork,
At least twice a day.
This longing black sky mocks me,
No more than twice a day.
How do you always wink like So
And make me bleed black tar.
It's dried and I'm stuck,
My prime is my crime.
633 · Aug 2016
Some people drink themselves to death.
Others choose Trust to do them in.
Ink on paper.
Love on the heart.
633 · Mar 2015
it lacks you/it lacks me
The photograph fits perfectly
On that blue wall,
It fits in my heart too.
It has a place to rest here
It has a home.

That smile, with is crooked corners,
Is no more.
Those eyes,
With reflections of a time nailed
To the past: they're gone.

I have your hair and I love you
For that. It is the pieces of you
That have made me.
It makes me a convict of the past.
I am there. Always in the past.

A bandit took your photo.
I can remember it still, just not you.
Oh how the moon won't tell me where you are. Oh how the sun burns when I stare at it and I ask it: have you seen a missing angel today?

A lack of a reply is a reply: no.
That picture is gone now.
Although I Still have pieces of you,
I cannot truly remember you.
That photograph was a time machine.

although it had a home to call its own,
It lacked a purpose.
It lacked a reason to exists.
It lacked you.
It lacked you.
It lacked me.
I felt these words bouncing
Inside My skull; I laughed.
The tips were razorblades.
This is my burning soul.

I felt these words come out
Of me.
They are dancing on the floor.
This is my blooming heart.

I felt your lips on mine, and I
I knew June wouldn't let me
Keep this.
It would leave, like you.

I felt these words bouncing
Inside my skull.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap,
Tap, tap. Tap.
They're nothing.
They're everything.
They are names, faces, and senses.

I felt these words bouncing
Inside my skull.

I know now what they mean.
607 · May 2014
The emerald spine shivers glass all over,
It's as dangerous as a four leaf clover.
Freezing oceans hide cold truths
O what a clever ruse!

A believer is a optimist,
A God reformed pessimist.
Where once was cold upon his skin
now exists tranquil sin.

It hides beneath the blue ice
He is the sergeant of his crimes.
Erosion has done wonders for your heart,
and that has left your skin feeling warm.
We sat on the swing
and it was magic
because for that moment
my pain floated away
on top of those perfect
butterfly wings and into
the mid-day sun and as
it died I remember
that it was the second
most beautiful thing
I had seen on that
July day because as
remarkable as my sadness
dying in front of my
crimson eyes was I remember
looking at you and
knowing-not thinking-
that these years of walking
through that devils flames
would, in the end,
lead me to
A muse.
All of this is true.
604 · May 2016
The poet knows pain.
The poet though, will make sure
You live forever.
597 · Jul 2016
The distance between joy and hell
Is all the words left unsaid.
The lilacs left dead
Inside you head
Are the nightmares that you tend
To forget.

It is those battered hearts that beat
The hardest under the glow of
This autumn moon.

Don't hide.
595 · May 2016
You bare the nails that were
Your words to me.
It was only for the world within me
To see.
Backward truths and bland
Love was,

Your tongue to mine.
Benevolent lover with the fogginess
Of your crooked lies.

Compare this to that and call it
No like or as
Call it metaphor.
Make sure it is home.
The idea of your love
Punched my young hernia.

That is where love enters.
That is where
Took it from me.
Like a bandit in the brightest night.

There are no three wise men here.
They don't come to see me.
Instead, good old and wise fear
Fills my lungs until I bleed

Bleed bleed.

You bandit in the night.
A lover without a light.
You took my time and mixed it with your lies.
A bandit in the night.
595 · Jul 2015
The ride and its worth
The winds of July swing
Your hair from
Your age shows now.
It's in your color.
Brown fields that mascarade
As mothers spaghetti,
Only yours though.

The sounds of the month are
Those of busy people.
I see industrialism on the
Brown fields.
Busy body beauties, black in nature,
And because of it;

Work, work, work.

They too know the worth of a dollar.
588 · Apr 2014
We are better monsters

than humans.
576 · Jun 2016
You loved me as a volcano;
Unstable in your words.
Violent in your actions.
Hearts are left in sediments
This way.
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