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Images swirl around in my head
As I try to conjure up one that'll stick.
To many thoughts roaming around
To make heads or tales of separate ideas;
It feels as though I have nothing left to write.

Pondering what I could do,
To make sense of the mess in my brain.
A change in scenery, new paint
In which to create a new world.
Yet even then, I find my block
Not only to be in writing
But in every form I use to create things.

What is left to do, yet sit and wait?
With pen at hand and paper near,
I hope that soon, the words will form;
That sentence after sentence a story will unfold.
With stroke of pencil, a picture will form.
© Michelle Brunet 2014
 Jan 2014 Alucard Sepet Dalv
Dr O
When I was six
I met a new friend in my dream
He taught me how to fear
The devil inside me

When I was nine
He appeared right before me
And taught me how to lie
With a smile across my face

When I was thirteen
He came to my front porch
And taught me *******
With as much pain as possible

When I was sixteen
I met the girl of my dreams
Who taught me how to love
With all the happiness in the world

When I was still alive
I introduced my love to my friend
And she ran away
But came back
With a friend of her own

When I was sent to hell
Along with my friend
She was already down there
Talking with her friend

At that point I knew
That we would get along great
But only in Hell
Where the Demons are friendly
Cheap wine will entwine with
***** dreams
As we fall into an idyllic slumber
Our hearts will thaw
And come dawn
we will feel again
__________

Hold me close
The ceiling is giggling
The furniture is conspiring against me
___________

Pretty girls foaming at the mouth
And other pleasant imageries
__________

Trip over your carefully crafted trickery
Tumble down the bottomless grave
You dug for the betrayed
The exquisite sting of karmic balance
I want to write a masterpiece,
that puts my ego and drive to peace,
I want to make something that gets the masses to stammer and quake,
feeling oot the true humanity and delivering nothing fake,
something to make them feel love and heartache,
to give them a rise,
by building them up with beautiful lies,
and tearing them down at their peak,
making their own head and heart something deep inside,
they have to seek,
but brick by brick I'll build them back up to my side,
they will feel consciousness spread across the great divide,
when I do this master work,
I'll give them each a piece of my soul to lend,
and then the poem will end.
Long title that I thought would sound cool...I think this poem is a badass one...hopefully you will too
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