My heart doesn't crumble when they finally go,
When they take their prodding fingers out of my soul,
Because they were in already-made holes,  
Whose depths, long ago, have come to plateau;
So curious fingertips, aren't missed  
When they finally stop trying to scratch an itch-
Or cease their search for a scab to pick, a wound to lick;
I'm used to it, the pain that sits atop these heavy eyelids...  

And with this weight comes benefits,

I never have to show,
The world will never know:
That deep inside, I'm small and vulnerable
Because tears no longer grow when they only come to go.  

-SLuR

a leo and a libra
f*ck the constellations
the loose ends
don’t matter anymore
it was destiny, fate




fate has lost faith in us

Why are others mouths inclined to draw the pictures I try to scribble out that form inside my mind?
A worthless, spineless creature- almost serpentine, wriggling on its belly baring cyanic, lachrymal eyes.
I want to squirm from this Stygian tomb, disenthrall my thoughts from the shadows swimming with me
inside this amniotic pool. I'm just a worthless fetus, a crumbling parasite and perhaps it becomes more
obvious when I try to keep it out of sight, like a stench you try to hide; Dulcify decomposition with a rain
of fragrant petals and slowly you'll come to find that magnolias smell of death, I can taste it
slightly on my breath and it whets their appetite, the demons that stink of ammonia that gather every
night orchestrating their symposia, their bellies full of laughter and drink while I'm full of minacious,
eternal thoughts that writhe through plumbless wrinkles and ichor, questioning motivation and what it  
is I fight for. I can never find the right answers... My tongue won't grasp the words, they just slip back into
their couthy throat where they can't be ignored; Left to die upon the shore, as fuscous waves that stain  
sand with rejection crash against my shattered form. My hands crack trying to flip the hourglass back  
and my eyes are constantly attacked by depression's thalassic pulchritude, a multitude of pains swaying
to and fro in veins, begging for escape but trying to stay encased. Life nulls and denudes, my aptitude  
for feeling- my natural ability to hold things close without unreeling heartstrings. Keep reading, there'll
be no eucatastrophe just endless pages of pointless animosity and tragedies accompanied by laugh  
tracks, everyone loves a jester with a proper act and I act a proper klutz futzing around with letters and  
spelling, trying to ensorcell any being to find my misery compelling.  

-SLuR

Oh Almighty Father
please come to my needs
and rescue me from my fears
My soul is need of peace
My soul is need of rest
I climbed higher, to the clouds
in hopes that you’ll better hear..