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 Jan 2022 ConnectHook
july hearne
there was this part of a story
where a noah's ark was carved
along with all the animals
and given to the orphan girl

a little boy got mad,
destroyed the ark, the animals,
threw them down and watch them break

i can't remember which book,
maybe Heidi or the Secret Garden

just that part of the book

i can't ever hate you enough
i wrote your name
your city
your country
your employer
your most accurate description:

a loser
just a terrible person
who helps himself to everything
including the complete destruction of someone else's happiness
to make yourself feel important
you are that kind of man

i guess that's how weak they make them
in canada

i hope you drink yourself to death
and drown terrified in your own *****
i hate you that much
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Elliott. You know it's true.  😡
 Jan 2022 ConnectHook
Brett
Dark cloud gown covered moon
                    Searching for your surface

Led by the scattered streaks of light
                    I see when the wind lets your skirt drift

The majesty
                    Beauty with a purpose

The silent stoic sun king
                    Even bows his head in your service
                    Cracked, barren and imperfect

Yet you bear your face
                    Reflected on every surface

The ever-watchful unveiled bride
Our clear open eyes in the darkness of an eternal sky
 Jan 2022 ConnectHook
Brett
My lucid sleeping has drawn the gaze
Of these dream demons that scheme against me.
This time of night, even the monsters have slinked away
Back inside their closet.

You have not known fear, rational or otherwise,
Until you lie powerless to the paralysis
That the dream demon wields so elegantly against me.
Like gripped by a vice, my body is held stiff.

My eyes wide open, or so my mind is led to believe
By the amorphous foe playing tricks with my deepest grief.
Contorting memories into the present moment,
A bedroom near identical to my own.

Hospital white walls, and the same clothes strewn about.
A faceless lady lay next to me, curved in shadows. My hand
Reaches out, but hovers just shy, as if set in stone.
Why cant I move? One more attempt proves of little use.

Just then, I am stabbed by six figures seven times and burned
Alive, but yet I do not die. Oh how I struggle to move
An inch or two, but this formless force denies. I demand
The demon speak to me, but before the thought can make its move
The loop repeats. I never die, but I always bleed.
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