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Across arms length before myself,
Windowpane translucent amongst the light,
Glowing brightly against the sunrise,
Reflecting the flame within my might

Violet hues, vibrantly bleeding
Into a perceived heaven,
Nirvana nearly taunting,
Impartial only by the second

Cool blues amass,
Blanketing perception,
Ever expanding their reach,
Offering little connection

Dew below rises,
Heated by desire to be known,
Pulled by the gravity of ownership,
Kin only to a cyclone

Glass before myself,
Grazed by wary tears,
Uncertain of any legacy,
Panels become my mirror

Faltering into dusk,
Unsteadily steps lead on,
Dissension unmasked,
Laced starlight gazed upon
Spades Lacoe Jan 2018
Empty beds are the places I feel most like myself

Lonely.

Accompanied only by my heavy lifting thoughts, breaking waves on my subconscious

I am an abandoned seafarers cabin, nestled among shells found in tidepools

Prehistoric.
Always waiting to be found.

My one roomed castle is not barren, filled with echos of the skeletons that

o
    v
        e
            r

    fill my closet.
Spades Lacoe Sep 2017
You've been brought here today,
To make the bed in which you will lay,
Built and seen of the crimes you've committed,
All of which you've proudly admitted.

The amount of tears your victims have shed,
Will be the same as the blood you will have bled,
Your endless punishments begin tomorrow,
And no cease as you feel their sorrows.
Spades Lacoe Sep 2017
Laying shallow in the darkness dept,
Wishing there were a final step to be leapt,
The Safety of her blankets near,
But she couldn't get away from this kind of fear.

Floating on this streamline bed,
Her only thoughts were filled with dread.
All the monsters knawed away
Any faith she still had to this day.

Submerged in this streamline bed,
A note for tomorrow to be read.

She once read in a book (or was it online)
Still to this moment she managed alone,
Because her parents were gone most of the time.
(Her life to be the same percentage as her phone)

"the morning is wiser than the evening"

And yet after all this time she was still focused on leaving

Decending in the streamline bed,
Her soul was tossed to the demons-they deserved to be fed.

A glimmer of peace,
In the final defeat,
Lost in this streamline bed,
Her wish was granted-she was finally dead.
Spades Lacoe Jan 2016
Ask me about a fandom,
Share in whispers about how you've been abandoned.
See a few striking similarities,
Between you and me?

Share a private story,
I don't mind if its gory,
The more bloodshed the better,
It makes for a more creative last letter.

Every bad memory,
Makes it easy to see how things are temporary,
How nothing seems secure,
Except maybe our future?

You and me,
Maybe one day three,
That would be quite an adventure,
One that would have to be a teeth clencher.

I'd say name a time and place,
But wouldn't you much rather have space?
I'll give you a life of excitement and rest,
Because I certainly don't want your sunday best.

Midnight Mc.Donalds,
4 am rides to nowhere,
Breakfast for dinner after sleeping all day,
Just a little work for years of play.

I want all nighters with messy food,
I want us to be playfully rude,
Just don't shut me out,
Because I'll stop trying without anymore shouts.

Just love me like I know you do,
And I'll need nothing new,
Just let me know that you care,
And I'll always be annoying and there.
Spades Lacoe Sep 2015
I try to be beautiful,
But my heart always remains less than full,
No raven hair or cherry lips,
And this sub size zero will just not fit.

I look around only to see,
The girl I am will not be,
One with a flat tummy,
And without thigh gaps I just look funny.

I do not have a big chest,
In this crowd I am never the best,
There is never a narrow waist or hips,
Only just a pale pair of chapped lips

Maybe when all the fats gone,
I'll be more than a pawn...
Spades Lacoe Sep 2015
A strange quiet field rests here today,
With green grass and wild flowers that hold the whispers of the fay,
All appears safe in the comfort of light,
But deep below the top soil lurks the forgotten men's might.

The cries of pain are muffled below,
And only one mind can touch what the lost nightmarish horrors show,
Behind one pair of eyes the endless conflicts play,
She relives them for days, and days, and days.

But the nights are always the worst,
When the ****** echos of the screams render her own throat hoarse,
The guilt, the pain, the loss, the regrets flash brightly again and again,
When suddenly a single thought comes to her, one of the end.

She makes her way to the tallest cliff around,
As her world continues to spiral down, down, down.
With one last look up to the pure moon,
The voices quiet in anticipation, staring with starving eyes...soon.

As the girl approaches the sharp cliff she begins to let go,
The laughs, the cries, the past, and...to the future she will never know.
But the blissful quiet sounds through her soul,
There is a tug on her heart and back it pulls.

Her feet find the silence of solid ground,
But her mind discovers a peace as her heart continues to pound,
Her mind sees a realization one may only know so close to death:
Sometimes its best to let the buried bones rest.
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