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It's time I write a morbid verse
Of a necrophiliac's scent
A love sonnet in a dark hearse
The way sick, evil love is meant

It's sure something to remember
The cold night shaped the mood sedate
'twas an eve of dark December
Beauty lured me to procreate

Though cold and stiff, love's not inept
Melody's morose symphony
I do believe with joy she wept
Dead, she deserves no sympathy
Not a necrophiliac! This was my attempt at dark, but I think it has a humorous quality, therefor, I failed. Bouts-Rimés is when another person gives you the end rhyme words. Soul gave these depressing words to me because most of my poems are lighthearted. I gave her a list of happy words because her poems are usually dark. Check hers out when she posts it.
i can taste me as your tongue slips between my teeth.
nibbling on my ribs,
(i think i see the gates)


other men could never stay for very long,
a few licks and they would look up, questioning,
tired.
you stay until i scream,
thrashing, waiting for the demon to finally
be exorcised.

eyes rolling, legs jello,
you do not ask if i have had enough,
and dive back in,

biting my tongue until i taste blood,
screaming until i envelop you.
here is a youth three aye

club in town, she says,

they are nice people.

i am sure.

i once planned to walk with them,

it rained, i did not have

sandwiches.

now i am thinking

of travelling

the world.



possibly?



sbm.
 Jul 2013 Katherine Del Rosario
-
I always feel so down
knowing she's not here
helping me smile again
and wiping away my tears
she was my favorite poet
such a beautiful heart
makes me
want
to
be
put
to rest
with
the one
who made
me smile
the brightest

I could never forget her face
or her infectious laugh
the way the room would shine
when she walked in
her personality shined
like the sun
her hugs
are what
I miss
the
most

it's been three years
and I'm still grieving the loss
of my favorite poet
the one who
gave my heart
warmth
enough
strength to
re-start
re-activate

her death changed the way
I looked at life
she taught me that
life can easily begin
but also
very easily
end
RIP Sidonie. I love you. You'll always be my friend,
my sister at heart and, my favorite poet in the world.

© Natali Veronica 2013.
It's 4.02am
the usual numbers
flicker on the screen
as I stare
and wonder
clock watching
it becomes an
old habit
a creature of such.

4.03am
glancing at the
time as my
battery dies slowly
it slips away
in the same vein
as my mind that
was lost back in
adolescence on a
sleepless night as I
counted the stars in
the blacked out sky.

4.06am
my mind is alive
fireworks are kicking
to come alight in the
last few moments
before dawn breaks
across the moors and
over the cattle that
fill the fields around me.

4.07am
adverts scream from
the television that
keeps me company
into the hours that
pass surprisingly quickly
which always unsettles
me.

4.08am
am I still real or have I
turned into a nocturnal
varmint of sorts as the
animals and freaks all
come out
at night.

4.12am
I see dusk and dawn
midnight and noon
curtains drawn
my head
falls onto
the pillow as I
hope only
to
sleep.

© Sia Jane
typo heaven, I do apologize. I am exhausted.
i am most alive during the summer.
i crawl through arteries filled with stars waiting to
explode.
my upper lip tastes like sweet salt and the sun
will never stop kissing me.
i am most ravenous during the summer.
i wear shorter shorts, touching myself, touching
him until i cannot find the difference between our
galaxies.
i am most insane during the summer.
i run with nothing but my scarcity, my self-consciousness,
i flip through lakes algae blooming and throbbing.
i am most me during the summer.
i find beauty within the melodies of my
peers. i dance through blades with bare toes and
tangled hair.
summer is never forever,
but tonight it will be.
i take showers at 2:30 in the morning,
because i believe it helps me think and
be O.K. with the fact that you can sleep without me,
and i seep into my mattress petting my cat
and watching sunlight tickle through shades.
i believe it helps me be O.K. with how
you have become my everything.
you are the cream stirred in my coffee every morning,
you are my mornings, my nights,
the dreams i have between 1 am and 7 am,
the bruises i receive from tripping over self conscious
decisions.
i believe it helps me be O.K. with
how i must keep myself occupied when you’re not around,
and i can easily run laps
around and over and around and over,
because otherwise i will feel the emptiness.
i believe it helps me be O.K.
with knowing you will eventually
leave.
and i won’t know what to do
but
sit
and take showers at 2:30
in the morning.
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