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 Jun 2017 Anonymess
13
I’ve forgotten the taste of love. The cherished threads that tie people together.
The feelings they profess in supposed honesty, the joy and ecstasy.
I’ve missed opportunities, naturally. Nature played me.
Distraught, I ran from a thought.
I ran a lot.

At the gates of responsibility’s exit, I had another thought. One without definition or reason.
Another ego maniacal ***** fit. A watered down vintage. Faked antique.
Off balance in a world out of balance, yet fools think they cancel each other out.
Sometimes it’s enough to lighten the load — fill the hole.
Usually not.

Escaping reality has its perks. You don’t feel bludgeoned by your actions or burdened by their consequences.
I think of the past as a mirror, when it’s really just a sprightly melancholic, yet gut wrenching, novel awaiting a squeal.
And I’m the only one who can write it. Expecting anyone else to would make the end predictable.
This is how all sad ironies of life must end.
Off the top of my head.

I’ve forgotten myself. I sometimes can’t recognize the person inside this shell.
These actions, thoughts, this ego — I am more than I know or understand.
Not necessarily a bad thing. Most definitely not a good thing either.
Come out guns blazing and paint the town only to apologize profusely — to each and every rotten corpse thereafter — to each and every ***** **** and dripping ****.
I am not your savior.

I make my own hell. I made this bed the day I claimed my throne.
And all your dreams flew into my **** ready to be ****** and multiplied. Progenies of your inner war. The cruelty of your being made thought, sin made flesh, hate made speech.
A victim of the false promise, the martyr of a hollow conscience. I am the end result of my own intentions.
I hate this.
Posted on October 10, 2015
we often take for granted
of many things we have at present
it won't be until we actually lose it all
do we appreciate all that had happened
so before it's too late
my most precious
I will let you know
how much I love you
every single day
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
The Writer
L’appel du vide

The call of the void
Is a deadly call indeed
Scary and sudden
It can lead to temptation

Like the forbidden fruit
Giving fruition to feelings
Twisted to most
But alluring to some

What if you...?

No, you shouldn't.

Fear the the dark call
For it comes unexpectedly
At the most inopportune time

A gaping chasm
Swallowing all other thoughts
Instantaneous and all-consuming
L’appel du vide
L'appel du vide
literally "the call of the void", is a French phrase used to refer to intrusive thoughts or the urge to engage in a self-destructive behavior during everyday life.
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
Isaac Godfrey
~ Not far below the earth, concealed within the ground,
~ lies a common vegetable, in a medium mound,
~ See this plant is seldom main,
~ and really is simply rather plain,
~ If the traditional family have friends they need to feed,
~ it very often overlooked that that stew contains a Swede

~ Normal sized veg, not very special at all,
~ this plant be dubbed the Swede, the Swede we like to call,
~ often hard  and burgundy and round,
~ within our soup it is often found,
~ So if in need of savory your dish  may be,
~ you must always try the Swede you see.

~ I am not trying to say the Swede is  definitively the best ,
~ nor do I mention it's stands out from the rest,
~ I mean the Swede
~ is within no need
~ to be more mundane or less.
Just a little piece of literature I was inspired to create upon simply gazing at a large and particularly ordinary and humble Swede. I do not mean Swede as in a Swedish person.
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
Paul Marfil
Nape
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
Paul Marfil
Wind kisses her hair, then
Her nape would sigh
A soft hello.
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
gray rain
3 months of nothing
And 3 hours in I'm already bored
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
13
Stonedhenge
 Jun 2017 Anonymess
13
I’ve wasted a good bit of my life doing this.
I am ashamed and chalk full of regret right now, but in a few minutes, all those terrible demons will be driven away.
I am expecting a package to be delivered.
Spent the whole day idling in wait. Lolling, rolling, indolently knolling my attention bell.
Listening, for that fateful moment when the car would ram through the building’s gates and park itself, figuratively, with the desired goods in tow, capriciously.

A few half hours away, in a thatched hut next to the railroad tracks that lead up to here, a sprightly old man impatiently tosses out bags of lush, matured, ambrosia.
He’s ecstatic that we’ve come at 5 am to purchase his valuable merchandise.
A half hour of window shopping later…. Transaction complete!!.
The return is swift, silent. Nervous.
One hundred grams. Enough to have your grandchildren have children without you around.
One moment, the cabin is quiet. Another, and the seat is on fire.
Rabid vibes this early in the day can only lead to one thing.
The Law! Everywhere you look… Eying you like they know… Like they all know.
But they want you to think that they don’t so they let you go. And you’re left to ponder the tragic possibilities of “what if.”

Pacing the room, I see what I’ve been expecting, finally arrive.
Clenching the door’s handle with my eye ball driven right up the peep hole, my heart bursts into flames.
The door is flung open and in it comes.
Squares of lush green, lengths of buds serene.
Aromatic and hypnotic. Retardation and euphoria.
This moment vs. What the hell was I talking about?
In a circle of tyrants and philosophers we’re lost choreographers of affluent lives.
******* slow at the fire inside, that shows us how we forgot to cry.
Delivery complete. Demons extinguished. Attention bell is ringing loud and clear.
Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.
Posted on July 10, 2015
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