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 Nov 2014 Adam Childs
Poetic T
I walk among the living, screaming
"Help me"
"Help me"
Cold breath for a moment is felt
I can't touch, feel,
Concentrate
Intensify
Merge
With the meat sack,
"What am I doing" they used to be us,
But they think living is hard
Try death,
Awaken,
Cold,
Frightened
Like a new born, colour bled
From what's perceived,
An aura is exhaled  momentary existence,
Energy,  
Expelled,
Depleted
Moments as if a memory expelled,
In death there are some things worse
Than when you wake up deceased,
There were plentiful others walking
"With those family"
"Still looked upon"
"Never to close to scare,"
"To bring forth the cold of despair"
But then it happened,
"Hunger"
"Ravens"
"Corrupted"
What was a non existence,
Brought forth from a nether tear,
To consume an aura to pull it within,
The screams of silence
Fear not seen since death awakened,
"This was extinction"
No aura
No rebirth
No nothing
Consuming the dead, to breach the veil
What was it for to get out
To let something in,
I hide in this sack, as if hiding in a wardrobe
Hide and seek in the living,
"Shudders of the flesh concealment breached "  
Concentrate,
Intensify,
Merge
Hide within the living, for they hunt the dead
There is no life after death, we now hide in the *living..
The dead now fear..
Her voice is strained.
Her skin is fair.
Her ******* lay on the countertop.
I **** her until my thoughts stop.

She rejects the notion of love for all,
as she leans against my kitchen wall,
with a cigarette and an unbuttoned blouse-
she wants to be homeless in my house.

She keeps me in her necklace's locket,
and I keep her in the wallet in my pocket.
Her toes kiss the linoleum,
she walks like she's made of helium.

She mumbles that I taste like mint chocolate chip,
as she rubs against my hip.
Her breath smells like Malboro Lights,
and I hope she decides to stay the night.

Milky Ways and Vanilla Cakes,
she likes the way my body shakes,
as we lay and eat our troubles away.
Hurried words slow the day.

She asks me about my stretch marks and scars,
and if I've ever been hit by a car.
And I say no, but I've been hit by love before,
and it feels like getting your hand caught in a door.

Hurried smiles and bathroom stalls,
she likes the way my family never calls.
The words escape between her plump lips,
as my hand travels between her hips.

We move until we forget
that the world is moving faster.
 Nov 2014 Adam Childs
Poetic T
"I am the spirit of the dead,"
They talk through me
Death,*
Whispers,
Clearly,
The living must walk the halls
Life* is the wrong
All must
"Sing the song of silent breath"
Essence of warmth is a sacrilege,
All must be cold in
Stillness,
Serenity,
Tranquillity
Will not be found, all must release themselves
From the torture of life
"Only death is eternal"
I have taken many,
"I am telling you this,"
There is a
Beginning
&
End
You will sleep in persistent peace
Like the rest,
So many immortal in
The halls, each have a place,
"Do"
"Not"
"Worry"
"The missing are never to be found"
Prey with relief, when I release your burden
"I Am The Spirit Of The Dead"
Life is fleeting the only comfort is in death
Invisible like the spirit never known or seen,
You don't even realise I'm out there, culling the herd.
The spirit speaks through me, all life ends cold.
The best serial killers are the ones you never know are even out there
She smells like marmalade
and Christmas trees.
She cuts her heart
where she places her knees.
She smokes in the park,
under the skating skies.
She makes me upset
and sometimes I make her cry.

Over in the dark,
she plays in the snow.
And if she feels cold,
I touch her chest
but I don't know.

Bask in the bark:
our names on a tree.
Carved with the knife
that she swung at me.

She says she's drowning in my ocean,
but I feel no emotion.

Her words suggest our bond
is as strong as a noose.
But she only loved me
when I was something to lose.
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