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carcass george Jan 2014
one day i will cherish the way my lungs fill
i will indulge in the way wet hair drapes against my skin
i'll forget how it feels to bleed into the sky
i'll find parts of me i lost in the house i grew up in
i will fall in love with the sound of mind
i will no longer decay
i will be the blood in my veins
carcass george Jan 2014
the idea of heaven terrifies me
is it a place i longed for when my lungs were filled with care
or is it a simple place?
a place where sadness cannot touch me

no place on earth, no setting will ever truly free me
i don't want to live a life in obliviousness
is there no escape
or is hell the only place fit
carcass george Nov 2013
i am empty
this poem is empty

it looks like poetry
the lines make it so
this is a poem
not prose

back to me
i am sad i am drunk i am alone and i am junk
these words i spit out
they do not equate
no inner meaning, hollow just as i said

i am empty
i try to fill me
i'm leaking
oh look there's a hole
carcass george Nov 2013
The winter trees an empty sight,
fallen leaves on grounds that gleam.
A fragile exterior-
a dormant interior

Your bare arms the cold exposes.
Your fragile state is left to gaze.
Little fellows sleep within you,
strong, supporting body you are to some
weak corpse you are to others.

Oh winter trees, a dismal sight.
do not wither into the winter night.
carcass george Oct 2013
A system I was forced
A chance I wasn't given
The only thing that can destroy me is a change of course

A ray of light i saw years ago
led to a tunnel of unapologetic truths
Nothing since then has gone by slow

Why do I persist to stay
I know not the answer
maybe, perhaps, I will one day
carcass george Oct 2013
The sky is a blessing
The mountains are my grace
The green is my friend
My mother is none.

I am a child of the sea, the oceans and the trees
It has made it so much harder to leave

I want to breathe the fresh, fresh air.
i lay bare with corroded lungs.

Please let me go,
forgive me will the bird
forgive me will the rose
I must go.
Forgive me,
for this is not my show
carcass george Oct 2013
the droplets corrode a softened skin
the undead lay asleep
the thoughts flourish, a shot of jin?
paper so crisp; the sailors keep

everything is intertwined
yet nothing seems to fall a place
everything is circled nothing is lined
oh life is a horrid daze

wake me up
wake me up
alas, i can not wake
as for i, the undead.

— The End —