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Anthony Perry May 2019
Back and forth in repetition
Trapped in a twilight's shaking embolism
Asunder is the father envisioned
Atrophied arms locked at the behest of a child christened

Lives intersect and for a moment, love is born
Trials are created and for the first time a name is worn
Among the quiet of involuntary matricide a promise is signed and sworn

Familial pain meets the curses of life
Perennial anguish clenches blood soaked sheets and for the first time, hate is born in the twists of umbilical strife

Heartbroken and greiving next to a pallid flame that's smothered and lifeless

Here, for the first time, tragedy is born

A new dawn so precious it's fire kept close, buried in the sternum of a giant secured in an indentured embrace

It's here, for the first time, a god is born
Anthony Perry Nov 2018
Depression is a kind of home for me. Winter is the season I come home.
I've been sitting on this for a couple years now because I don't like writing short/phrasing poems especially because it's just not my style. I couldn't fit it into any poem or create anything around it and with December coming soon, I figured I might as well post it as it is.
Anthony Perry Jul 2018
There is something violent about how I see the skin on your body
Its so rich and smooth, almost decadent and unlike you

This observation turns into a premeditation when you touch my cheek
Its almost like i can feel the heat melting off your bones

As I laid you down and slipped a knife underneath your sternum
You whispered something hidden in painful tones like a sharp breath piercing the guttural moans

But I dont need to hear words to know the searing desire steaming from your guts as I replaced them with hot stones

The blood on your finger tips remind me of fresh water on leaves after a storm and your severed head looks like its been through famine, disease, and a damaged city plagued and war torn

Yet there is still beauty in the decayed decadence that is your mutilated corpse

The moonlight drowns in the canal of blood begging for remorse while the insects march and sing a song of things that can only get worse
This is a poem about the need for closeness between two people
Anthony Perry Apr 2018
Lay down this night
Try not to fight
Night terrors shepherd a blighted terror insight

Get through this flashing fright and wake up with another mental lashing akin to febral crashing

Every kid's born with a light
And as kid the dreams gripped mine tight

Eye lids fall to sleep
Fadeing into shades blacker than black
Seamlessly brought back
Seeing the dark move, coming closer to kiss my cheek
Choking on fear I couldn't get out a peep
Eye lids peeled and tacked on the tourtures rack

Afraid to see my family die I'd cover my face with invisible hands
So much hell inside my brain
I'm forced to watch as my sister's would fall and smear wherever it lands

How can a kid see so much when he sleeps?

Waking up afraid I would go to school unaware it was real life
Feeling dissolved, broken, school was like chopping at a tree with a dull knife

Live my day and proceed to lay my head down
Pillows and blankets comfort but cannot support the torture when my heads bound
Tears in the eyes knowing the nightmares are always around
knowing I'm not crazy as I feel voices with no sound

At some point I accepted this is how I am

Night after night, horrid beings and terrible stories unfolded like the buckled spine that's scraped into a body bag after singing forty storeys to the ground
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