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Time spent on the faceless. Smooth skin turned abrasive
By the scaled scars, my broken heart has created.
Serrated blades of blame pierce our veins and,
Trickle down pain through broken water mains.

A gluttons dinner bell hangs above the poor’s poisoned well.
Dead men don’t feast. Lead a horse to water and,
Wait for it to drink. Watch the self-defeat. Hand-made desolation by men with no faces.
Puppet string desperation keeps us in our places.
Who is in control.
because smiling and saying i'm fine
is easier than trying to explain to you what i feel inside
this is why i'd rather lie
than try to explain why i wish i had died
You asked me what my name was
You asked if we could dance
You asked if you could have my number
You asked me to call
You asked me to pick you up
You asked me to hold you
You asked me to wipe away your tears
You asked me to just speak nice things
You asked me to stop fixing things

I never asked for anything
And now I’m asking why
Tomorrow
I'm going to try again
Tomorrow
I will thrive
Even if today
It feels like
I'm the world's most broken,
Miserable man
I shall once more feel alive

Tomorrow
I will take the road
I have never taken before
And paint the world gold
And be afraid no more

Tomorrow
My dreams will come true
Tomorrow
I will rise and shine
Tomorrow
There will be no you
And the world will be mine
21 vi 21
Beth, geniuses are driven by a force within which they can't shake off.  However much they might resist, the voice doesn't go away--it reaches the point that makes them delirious or mad--that's when they realise the gift is a curse and they have to pay a price in suffering and torment.  They ask themselves: Is this worth the price?

Yet, it's their misery that gives the world the gift of infinite beauty, wonder and awe.  We are the benefactors of their suffering.
“and I still hadn’t changed my
opinion,” she said. “I still
believe that
a double suicide is the absolute
highest
display of love there is. Think about it,
two lovers dying in each
other’s arms. What in hell
can be more romantic?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “staying alive
for each other’s sake, maybe?”

“What? That’s, like, not
romantic at all. The longer you stay alive,
the higher your chances to fall
out of love. Nothing
chews at love like life does. That’s
why death is the answer.
It’s the only way
to immortalize love. It’s the way towards
that plane of existence where all
you feel is love and nothing else.
I wanna go there!” She squeezed her fists
and eyes, braced herself as
she said it.

“Well,” he said, “We’re both out of a job,
unwanted by family, no home,
no cash, no future…”

“All we really need
is love!” she screamed, jumping into his arms

“Yeah,” he said, “and an overdose.”

“I’m with you, dearest cousin!”
IG: https://www.instagram.com/bogdan_1_dragos/
Ego
Too early

It was, is it not?
"No, you're wrong,"
I keep saying this to people;

Do I even stand correct?
Surely not.

I'm...
not yet.

Don't say it,
It doesn't feel so rewarding;
I'm not on a road
I am lost

Uncertain, and probably
delusional...
that's me

I'm standing still
it scares me that I can't move

Am I growing
or was I not?

Maybe, I thought I was.

What's with the words I speak?
I desperately think yet,
it cannot be written in ink

words are at the brink
of emptiness
so deep

What is wrong with me?
my back feels empty
my heart does too
the bed doesn't cover it
the pillow I shield myself with
never do

right now,
i can't be satisfied
it just hurts,
my heart hurts

...physically
I've been feeling slight aching in my heart; it feels like it has been squeezed or something. I know that it hurts a little...

My back feels a little bit empty, but maybe I just wanted to be hugged like I hugged my friends. I wished they did it back...
Desire,
Twisting vines
Intertwined
In my mind

Bound,
Wrists writhing
Eyes sultry
Sweet smirking

Licked,
Navel to nose
Curled toes
Breath grows

Fantasies,
B-roll spinning
****** ensuing
A new beginning
Oil painted red sky summer
Blue moon June, and tailor-made memories
Skimming the surface like a skipped stone
Riding the ripples
Of an early summer’s amplitude
Like a light ray runaway,
Dancing with darkness anxiously on the edge of the abyss
A lone wanderer,
Searching the soil for some semblance of a soul, but
Our bound hands were meant to dig
Never to hold
Skip a stone and watch the ripples underneath a gray beard mountain.
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