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I refuse,
After all I have survived...
Including,
My own mind.
I refuse,
To be slain by a ******* liquid,
In a glass.
I am spitting in the face of death and screaming,
I refuse.
 Jun 2017 Josalyn Diana
Waldo
The sweet taste of self destruction,
Makes it hard for one to function.
The goal is self evolution
To escape these corrupt institutions.
But what's the solution
Under our eroding constitution?
So much **** confusion.
So many twisted conclusions
Reaffirmed by my delusions.

Pain, pain please go away.
Anguish seems to always stay
Under sunny sky's, on clouded days,
A slave to my pessimistic ways.
Darkness seeps from my fingertips
As the continents drift
And the magnetic poles shift.

Melatonin brings sleepiness
And dreams so hauntingly devious.
Thoughts so painfully tedious,
Even the devil could not conceive of this.
They demand thoughtless obedience,
A single consciousness of greediness,
And anxiety ridden uneasiness.

Mushroom clouds of sorrow,
The bleakness of tomorrow.
Reasons to let the blood flow
To rest six feet below.
There's no peace to be found here
Just cold stares, judgement, and sneers.  
Take me where the maggots eat at flesh
Where dirt and corpses mesh.

I think we're all god ****** insane
Because God ****** us with pain.
With self-hatred flowing through our veins.  
They say Hell is a physical place,
Where evil souls are laid to waste.
So why do we all get a taste
Before our existence is erased?
Because Hell is in the mind
Hell is in the heart
Hell is all you'll find
In a world so dark.
If you took a razor and with it tore this carpet up.
I'm certain you'd be sure to find a brief but well-worn rut.
For now it's rather shallow, a furrow most discreet.
Time flows only forward though, as do my weary feet.
The days slip through my fingers, like so many grains of sand.
The hourglass is broken, life just wasn't what I planned.
I waste my nights just pacing, my steps fall heavy on the floor.
This rut will be the solemn tale, of the weight my shoulders bore.
 Mar 2017 Josalyn Diana
Waldo
Something feels wrong about walking on pavement
When I could be skipping through fields of grass
Something's wrong with economic enslavement
When we could be carelessly letting time pass

Something's wrong with perpetual warfare
When all we desire is love and peace
Something feels empty about likes and shares
And something feels wrong about racist police

Something feels off when politicians speak
With their lies, misinformation, and deceit
Something feels wrong because we've passed our peak
We're on the decline and it tastes so sweet.

Something feels wrong with the passing breeze
As if the air knows what's coming next
Something looks wrong with decaying trees
They too understand that we are hexed.

Something feels wrong in my dark twisted mind
Something feels wrong with this dark twisted Earth
Something feels wrong about being kind
Something feels wrong about having no worth.

Something feels wrong about dragging
along
And it'll all feel wrong until the day I'm gone
 Mar 2017 Josalyn Diana
Waldo
Now that the joy is gone
And the thrill has faded away
I'm back to fighting misery
Each and every day

Once I was in a place
Where the happiness was endless
Where every face had a smile
But now it all seems senseless

What's it matter now?
Those days are in the past
Now the pain has returned
And its here to last

The pain of which I speak
I have failed to find it's source
But it has always been within me
This my mind has enforced

So I'll trot along
Through tornados and hurricanes
Through blizzards and wildfires
Even if the pain remains
 Mar 2017 Josalyn Diana
Waldo
I have searched but the dictionary does not posses
Enough words to describe my discontent, pain, and stress
 Feb 2017 Josalyn Diana
Waldo
Joyfully I skip through fields of daisies
Woefully I think until I'm crazy
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