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Mar 2020 · 117
Bull
All is said and In solitude, the bull rests. No longer will the degrading eyes stare upon us. For we are now one in stare in solitude isolation desolation do we know the difference? Isolated into a tiny mindset where no one else can hear or see you an author in pain only writing from his rib in flow of conscience dots on a tiny page are no different from the water she is. The bridge we hold with this only covers a gap for so long before it crumbles. A key to a lock I’ve no need to pre think my writing though am not claiming to be a god. To those with the loudest and most obnoxious thoughts I am but a simple *******, pessimist.
Feb 2020 · 105
right now.
right now he's starting
right now i feel his gaze
it's choking me
right now i can hear him
i can see the light flash off of his skin
right now my psychosis is the worst it was
in 2 years
right now i feel like running away
right now i feel like hiding
right now i feel like he's here
a brute awakening
pull back to earth

right now nothing matters except for the presence of a hallucination i've been having for 2 years
right now it's the worst it's been
right now i feel like drowning
right now she's questioned me
right now i'm mute
I can't answer

right now.. right now...
Feb 2020 · 108
Poe
Poe
he's impulsive. I haven't seen him in a year. I miss poe. he stayed with me. I can't ask him. I can't ask for him. He left. poe. he can hear me. he can see me. i miss poe.



a strange figure approached me late at night. I was 12. he stared with golden coloured eyes. he left as soon as he came. I stare through the vents. where I thought he was.. where I saw him, in our teal blue bathroom.

that night

that night I caught glimpse of him in my window, that night I felt angry eyes on me. that night I began to fear him. only a floating head now.

not symbolic no.

I see him. he sees me.


one day

after my father was done.

he told me he'd hurt him.
for hurting me
he stared intently at the right side of my face. with wide eyes
and pursed lips.

but i can hear him whisper sometimes.

poe

poe. he opened his mouth one time.

one time, I saw him open his mouth, for the first time.

it was a inky mess. it blended with his pitch black skin which contrasted with his bright white eyes. and black iris. he was mad i was in the hospital.

he was mad and didn't let me sleep.

so i stayed up silently as he stared. like always.

poe.
Feb 2020 · 111
Hmph.
A simple sound.
A huff of air coming from one's self
Usually meaning that something is wrong

such a sad sound to the normal listener.
Feb 2020 · 122
scissilis
Flame of a blue hue, the whitest of seats play in the trench of foul death at the horns of an addax pierced through my cumbersome heart. to steal away at everything I've prided myself in. I'd stained myself with the disgusting feeling of love, and drank the poison of jealousy in the cabinet of curtain. With sapphires and jaspers of deep red. Not to my wish i had lead myself alone and draped a cloak of deep purple velvet over my broken pitiful heart. soft minded now I
im just posting drafts at this point
Feb 2020 · 123
write my downfall
2004 the statue in which he lie, of the depths of the bog.

and the cicada buzzing.         the breeze of the summer.
no. spring.
spring of april.

the isolation of trees.

silver glossed eyes children hands lay scattered as a man failed to collect.
lay
scattered.
gaps in the tree of the luminance king of ace queen of hearts

jack of all trades

king of hearts is to pierce through the dagger. not the diamond.

sand. in which salmon fly                     the forest began to reclaim the cards and your highness crumble.

he crumbles. to the subject of society.

consider this the beginning of

The rise and the downfall

of Bonnie J. Michaelis
Jan 2020 · 92
Point of view.
He who claims the flame of blue. Cloaked in red and hovers above ground. You’ve ran so far yet as I could only watch from behind a screen, a theatrical experience I suppose. I came to wonder what was hidden behind that cloak. Something of velvet and 10 feet tall. I’ve seen the pain well in your eyes and the emotions within you burst to me; I question myself and I question you. In your hands you wield three golden hoops and in a flash you stand and take yourself Down the psychiatric wall past the stage and to a circle of chairs. My point of view, not. But yours. It was strange, for I didn’t know I could dream in such a view. Yet.. Not comforting knowing you’re now hiding from yourself.
Jan 2020 · 115
This is all.
Might I need a Healthy parental figure and light in my life, yes.
I do not indulge in any acts of crime, never. That is unlikely and out of character of me.
Might I need to accept myself, yes. I've 2 friends who have known me for years and I'm terrified to let anyone else in. After anything I’ve been through.

Label me a troubled child perhaps, i care no longer. Yet refrain from categorizing me as a horrible person for trying not to hurt.

That is all.

Not a crytic poet for tonight, but merely a human.
i've no need to explain myself but a short post about who i am will do most good. as I've studied the psychology and remember that people like to know things.

my name is Sylvester J. Michaelis
i'm puerto-rican, african, and mayan
I enjoy Edgar Allen Poe, Sally face, Sherlock holmes (probably to an unhealthy extent), Alice in wonderland, and true crime
I love Lavender, Roses, Honey, and raspberries
I enjoy the company of cats and birds
I've aspd ( it can be further explained in my poetry)
I feel the best way to express myself is to be cryptically, so I don't get hurt again.
I have a wonderful partner Who I value and hold dear to my heart.
My best friend suggested this website to me
im just your local wendigo prince
instagram: Isolatedarsenic
Twitter: Eleganceingrey
Jan 2020 · 270
light
dearest from above you've been sent. for i share memories of thy heavens with you. i've been casted back to the hells i came from many times only for my title of the devils son. Yet to question why i keep going, is only for you. yes, for your beautiful amber eyes and golden infused locks of hair. beautiful wings that glow in the darkest of nights. in next life I watch as wendigo, bound to the earth, for you're still an angel yet i've no words for you my dear valentine, I stay on this earth as wendigo for you my love, and you've no memory; for my state being wendigo differ from the elegant prince we fell in love as..
Or so I thought.
for when you fell into my depth of the forest I only look at thou and with heart ache you slowly stand and embrace the disgusting deer like demon i've become and with the softest tone you had muttered the most heart wrenching words to me
"I've missed you"
I embraced you and could no longer hold myself together, for your sake I did not break down, no. Instead I held you as I once did and did not let go. for even today we are together.
To my love, Valentine.  
With every inch of my being I wish to stay with you and build a healthy future may we last into our next reincarnation. hopefully we will return to the divine entities we once were, together
Jan 2020 · 106
disclaimer
My art is flow of conscious. it is not to be taken serious. I do not condone violence towards people nor animals. All my poetry is fueled by my own pain and trauma. it is not to make sense unless it does, then it's intentional.
Jan 2020 · 88
image of reality-slurred.
The brain. If not subjected to senses depriving the whole image of reality. the stars align and planets submerge in the basement; where the child of a black cat, an omen perhaps lay under the building a girl when she takes the golden lock with the key her father obtained, barefoot the smile in which...unsettled me to the Kitten, it's grey eyes hung from the ceiling where the blue light emerged from the thinning gown of faces I seen and the moon where it closed the closet door embroidered in emerald where the body of a bride lay faceless in the afternoon. The cat pounced from the tree and the bird spread its wing only to fall into the pits where the mud sunk in the sockets of death. The golden lock stay hidden in the grass where the ravenous boy opened a contentless book to rip the pages, where he was pressured to darkness hiding sunlight from leaves. Where the rose die off and the lake bleeds with ink from the fish and creatures but the smile of the cat haunt him and the barrier of the animal stab at his chest where he ate the bread and drank the wine from the earth itself, he manifest of green and gold, lay in the ice and allowed himself death.
Jan 2020 · 109
-Redacted-
A quite backwards man indeed. The crown that lay on his head appeared to cause his eyes to fall out. to roll to the back of his throat where the Sterling red jewel rest and made it difficult for him to breathe. a reversed man indeed where he tore his face to the problem of change and let it bleed golden blood on the pavement. Where solitude is a cloak of white a bathe in bleach. There was once a man, this man. named huzzah monsè whose horse sat in a river. monsè in return slaughtered the horse, Obtained it's skin and downed it's blood from the goblet of christ. Crossed himself in the alleyway where he drank lead from the hands of a snake and where the trees ended of the alley in the city he sank into the cement mix where the reversed man lay. His organs tainted gold on which his meal was no more where a skull float of barbed wire and the horse dubbed now a goat by the touch of the snake to the eye of it's beholder.

— The End —