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Mr Shankley Aug 13
Corrupted circles surround your eyes
Spinning recklessly methodical,
Black bags, grey cheeks,
a dead mouth don’t speak,
It only eats away at blood bitten lips,
And if the mirrors weren’t so steamed up,
I probably would have cleaned up
My ****.

Just keep stuffing all the digressions
into the breach of this sinking ship.

It’s the best we have,
It’s all we’ve got,
Rot.
Mr Shankley Apr 7
With a grasp
i fall into abyss,
within the cracks
of her palm.
Where the only art
that will exist
is the graffiti on her skin;
self harm.

As she drowns
in a sea of fear,
i'm dragged below the surface.
She pulls me close,
whispers in my ear;
"do you know how to walk on water?"
Mr Shankley Mar 26
An old deflated football
where the lonely magpie sits,
singing melodies of memories,
of a trampoline and a stolen kiss.

When I couldn't tell the difference
from your smiling eyes of green,
if underneath you were reptile,
or just plain naive.

But with my pocket full of dust caps
it doesn't matter much at all,
run away, take chase,
shoelace slapping against the wall.

And if our little fingers are strong enough
to make a promise that will last,
i'll keep this magpie singing,
until our cigarettes have turned to ash.
Mr Shankley Mar 19
The garden overflown
with rolled up cigarette buts,
Where the roots of our ruts
grow beneath the sut.

Suffocated;
Like statements never stated
That daisy chain bracelet;
You won’t find it here

“Enough we’ve waited”
you say losing patience
When the words “I love you”
Are hard to hear
Mr Shankley Feb 18
We feast on the rotting corpse,
of that dead horse we beat.
The words unsaid are the maggot heads,
stuck between our teeth.

You ***** a smile from your wincing face
as your stomach bile regurgitates
all the promising lies contaminated,
within sour skin.

Don’t spit it out in front of me,
just say if your not hungry,
these festered worms beneath the bones
are still good to eat.

I’ll place it on a silver plate
and mental games can marinate
the insects infesting inside the veins,
until satisfaction.
Mr Shankley Jan 24
I've sat in my room for countless days...

The stars have started burning holes in my curtains,
calling me into the forest.

I'll tell myself that I'll follow one when it comes,
but they're getting harder to not acknowledge.

I don't want to get tangled with the snakes again,
and to be honest,

I don't want to follow a star,
I'd rather wait for a comet.
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