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Dec 2014 · 571
My Flower.
Petal to petal;
Withheld, so brittle.
Unstable yet settled,
Undermine, unleveled.

Spoiled with shadows
Coiled in soil.
Divulge subtle flashes
Of a violet so royal

As within so complex,
Though without context.
You’ll find the subtext
Once this flower is annexed.
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Ingesting Flaws.
I bury exhaled consistency,
the branch
cultivated by stigmas
locked to stock.

Back to the trenches
To be digested by
A faded blue
of obsession
for depression
Enamored
with culpability.

Ingested as scattered
Parables punctuated with
Shadowed flaws forthwith
Swept over by sponsors
Who fix; protect.
.Imagery on how I consume information over something everyone looks to.
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
Voice.
She's got the voice of an angel
Her lips conform with gods
I'm unable to be stable
So I sit and nod

I've got the voice of a Demon
A gargoyle in the night
Drawing followers out of the light
And I never see what I really need because what I really need is to see.
Oct 2013 · 835
AK-40 Heaven
Dear God:

You will be my best imaginary friend
You'll circulate.
Hey god,
We'll incorporate
Your practice.
Holy water drips in the past tense.
My passion striped away by his lashings
I know I'm asking
A lot.
I pray for the lasting
Of us.
Tip toed walls
Surround me.
Blocking out the guarded son, and his glory.
You live under god
I live under an open mind.
Until he shows
And releases a sign.
I loved you through a letter.
He loved you through books.
Until you discover what "it" took,
You're open mind, mind, mind, mind, do you mind?
I'm stuck with differences so I ask all the time.
Do you mind, mind, mind, mind
What I believe?
Because me and your god,
We share similarities.
I loved you so,
I hugged your soul,
I was tender and caring
I was close to you.
Now I'm a distant
You know this
We share final words
It
is
finished.

Amen.
I tried a different writing style.
Oct 2013 · 1.5k
Cursīve
Swoon, swindled, spindled, and spun.
Wisp of a hand,
to the possession of tongues.

With your lungs producing breath; methane gas.
Lips like matches,
with tendencies to strike,
engulfing us in a passionate blaze.

Bodies connected in the dark,
the silhouette of your euphoric body proved that ignorance was needed and illumination,
never needed.

                                        Settle.


Intert­wined in the repose,
Was the leaf to our stick.
Fathomed indentation
Tethered in our unspoken script

Heavy apparitions conjured from tight gasps.
Releasing 3 whispered words,
becomes our catalyst.
One embedded in your eyes
     A riptide
          of size to rise
the ties
           in the endearing future of our lives
    until we say our goodbyes
you'll shed this pain that cuts like knives.

Daydreaming of electric wires.
Tiptoeing on what
hangs lower than our fire.
Closed currents in the air
You continue the shock
as your fingers dance through my hair.

We're the flowers and petals,
withered into the passion we're plagued with.
Oh so crowded,
We're cursive
Characters tied in knots,
We can't be split.

Fearing the closure,
We mustn't ever be print...



...Fragmented, affluent, vacant, and split.
The script unraveled
Not cursive,
now print.
This now hurts to read.
Sep 2013 · 599
.Farewell.
You dwindled away,
growing faint,
like the morning dew on lamented grass.
Sep 2013 · 437
Floral.
Left flowers on your grave stone,
Only wanting to be close to you again.

I don't like you so cold in the dark,
Soon I'll love you 3 feet apart.
Aug 2013 · 766
I'm Seeking the "In."
Oh darling.
Oh darling!
Help knot this noose.
Spill out the contractors spindled spew.

My leash is as tethered as my thoughts.
Kick the stool angled foot
Remove tension,
don't slack.

I've decided I just don't want to keep my thoughts inside.
They aren't always sane,
but have tendencies to seek the "in."

My departure welcomes the cold and bitter.
As the winter.
To which the tree holds the sight of.
Chlorophyll picked away from leaves
to fulfill a coming life.
I will restore the color back in the splintered rings held inside.

This withered branch; my neck.
Ready to untwine
From burdening weight balanced on my spine.
SNAP!

Fingers snap to my fall.
4 counts per measure
Each conducted with quietus posture.
A contortionist to the meaning of nurture.

Oh you
Oh darling
Oh me, oh my.
Hanging from this tree oh why says I.

Do I have to die?
Oh right,
NO! Wrong let's lie in light.

That tree giving color,
given hope.
Painted again by my deaths brush stroke.

What I thought would be so warm and welcoming...
Is only what I had before...
Nothing.
The tree dies as life comes.
The tree comes to life as one dies.
Aug 2013 · 716
DespairTaker
So I looked at my mother and asked her "I'm sorry but what do you speak?"

With a stern look in her face she said  "Your nothing to me William, you're only a disgrace."

But mother? WAIT! Mother!
Are my words special or is my self, a son special?

No son you're not special.
Your words mean bleak...
You simple minded fool.
Hate is all you seek.

Oh how cruel,
Your words spill with the old.
Repeated system of vocabulary directed at my point.
That point, a heart, one desperate, one in need.
Of a caring mother who may see something special in me.
Well mother I can write.
I can write your worries.
And hold them tight like your once told bed time stories.
But these new story's that cut so deep,
Hold demons and monsters  suffocating my heart beat.
Flip the switch you caretaker.
Press delete.
Erase me from your whittled life,
To one not carved to include me.
Aug 2013 · 553
Fathomed Beauty.
I'm the forever bête noire,
    plagiarizing the plague rising cellar door.
Aug 2013 · 567
I Remember:
I remember,
I remember when I was tender.

I remember when my closed minded, fetal positioned brains thoughts were thinner.

I remember,
Life was linear,
Imagination a whisper.



I don't want to remember.
Aug 2013 · 1.1k
Cigarette.
That intoxicating, suffocating, chemical spitting, death pursuing, white stick.

Pressing death on my forever gasping lungs.

Inhale:Addict,
            Inhale:Addict,
                   Inhale:Addict,
                              Inhale:Addicted.

This stair step downward towards hell in my lungs.
Please,
oh god please let me exit when I realize this mistake,
let me crawl up these steps with my everlasting,
hesitated,
chemical tainted breath.

With every breath I take,
a ghostly hand conjuring from the wisps of fading smoke,
choking my lungs.

My body no longer paradise but an ash tray,
each ash, a day stripped away by my own consistency to smoke,
this **** POOR EXCUSE OF A  COMFORT.
A JUVENILE DECISION THAT WILL CAUSE NIGHTMARES FOR ME,
A ******* DECAYING WALKING GRAVE!

I'm getting out of {second}hand...
I need to calm down...
I need...
A cigarette...
That boy who found the lion all caged up,
his mind parishes from life,
death surely caught up...

Dry eyes, dry eyes!
His conscious said,
crying never helped anyone not even your own death.
Dry eyes, dry eyes.
His tears stopped.
Dripping from his cheeks,
he grew an unremarkable smirk.

His false happiness became his likely attitude,
an open wound to an open heart beating with refuse.
That poor lion roared clawing for his escape,
but those dry eyes locked with his instinct and ended his pain.

Sorrow struck,
Along with a thinly boxed in match...
Flame.

Ash rains down
An ocean it creates
Leaves filtering up above
The wind is its waves
Sharing burnt lungs
Non stop flame
The only extinguish to this fire
Is now the tears on his face.
Aug 2013 · 441
Oh darling... Stay back.
A.  I hate your colorfulness

            

          B.  I just want neutral, colorless.
Aug 2013 · 1.1k
Simpl[ART]istic
So allow me to use your lungs and your breath as my inhaler.
Because my lungs are forever severed, so be as my tailor.

Hesitation in my inhales will be the interpretation of your respire.
A seen misconception of a falling chest to the resurrection by a deep breath.

But the oxygen you gasp for will be appropriated to fuel my fire.

Drifting next to me is the spilling of your lungs,
cloak for inconsistency,
armor for what I confront.  
A refugee for the alterations and the changes.
Your spine is an easel as your body the canvas.

Let me paint you a pretty picture
Reflected to the pupils in your eyes
Darker than the trench that allows you to see the beautiful lies.

Couplets of brush strokes and puppets that you choke
The air you abuse, now CO2
Is the kindle to my fire.
Aug 2013 · 655
Look of Askance
The man stood there,
in the dark with a look of askance.
No one asked him, they just past him.
He was benign
With a face to intimidate
Still blank in the dark,
Pondering existence.

Welcome back sinners
Cutting wood,
Attenuating the wood.
He thought he was useless,
Cavil of himself.
He was a charlatan,
A man of dark,
An open heart,
He fell so far.
This would defeat him.

You can not be the light in the distance,
but only the spark of  resistance.
Tisk tisk, now remember this.
Clocks only show time of decimating existence.

With an axe in hand
The man oscillated it.
Striking wood...
Striking wood!
A gun to tame
But missing its holster
Throw it down...
Throw it down!
[silence]
Because the only thing running through his mind is a Bullet.

So let's hang up the night sky,
And die in the dim Lighght.

Reaching his eyes
A luminous hole struck.
Opening wide
The man dropped his gun
Towards the light
His faith had won
Exit the dark
Leave with conclusion.

Oh god was he cold...

— The End —