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she looked back and asked, “do we have enough candles?”

“enough to start up the Great Chicago Fire all over again.” I replied.

and she said,

“to watch that whole city burn to the ground would be quite the enchanting piece of captivating imagery.”

we lit the candles,
and danced with demons
like Indians in celebration
upon a pile of burning books
as we sang songs with sirens
under our drunken culture
while the troubadours
and lyricists without hats
played the diabolical lutes
and hellish harp strings of fire
on chaotic imperfections
we piddled on the face of society
and bet against the fixed fight
as the troops of tomorrow
paraded down the alternative streets
like ants in the kool-aid on a warm
breezy summers day
half the neighborhood
was drunk with rage
and the other half was dead
rabble-rousers, blithe and tinkered,
all stood up at once
like agitated cobras and
torched the night sky with incendiary
controversy and we made love
in the streams of submachine guns
that flowed like the cocktails
of Molotov under the arsonists belt
until the ****** of our memories
glittered on the broken buildings
of our minds.
  Feb 2018 Doruk
Syrah Kai
Your skin still smells like,
The first time I touched you:
Like late Sunday afternoons,
On long weekends,
Sweeter than expected,
With all the time in the world.
Follow me on instagram @chaos.poetry
Doruk Feb 2018
Trans women are women
And trans men are men
Non-binary people
Are typically "them"

Gay women dig ladies
Gay men dig dudes
Bisexual/pan folks
Are not "just confused"

No one is ill
We're not living in sin
We're just what happens
When love and truth win
This is not mine. This is Amanda Jette Knox's. You can follow her on Twitter: @MavenOfMayhem
  Jan 2018 Doruk
dove
these dreams
seem so real
they are so vivid
i will pinch myself
and feel the pain
so how have i figured out
that this is not real life?
well,
in the corner of
my eye
i saw you.
and the illusion broke.
the story was confirmed
as fiction.
because i know
that only in my dreams
you would come back.
(reality is the deepest nightmare)

getting out of bed was particularly difficult today.
Doruk Jan 2018
closer now to death
the blossom heavy lime tree
my childhood lingers
Originally by a Turkish poet Yelda Karataş.
  Jan 2018 Doruk
celestial
in class
they asked us
if we were
afraid of the dark

no i'm not afraid
of the dark that
fills my room
at two a.m.

i'm not afraid of the dark
that engulfs
underground caves
or the darkness
submerged deep in
the atlantic ocean

but
i'm afraid of the dark
that seeps through
every fissure
and crevice
of my splintered heart;
the blackness that
cascades through
my veins
and the gloom
that fills my lungs
(with no room
for oxygen.)

yes, i'm afraid
of a certain kind
of darkness:
the kind that can't
be illuminated
by a flashlight
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