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The Noose May 2018
1.  Was I supposed to become a desert in the centre of winter? Was the ivy supposed to coil  around my hands. Ever so tightly.
2. Deciphering ambiguous signals is a prelude to madness
3. Let me ****** you with the promise of never after.
4. Trying to sink a while in these threads of light.
5. Syllable altered mood
6. It gets hard in the middle, the start is child's play and the end. Always is.
7. I was confused, set adrift, I haven't been able to find my footing since.
8. Sometimes we die before our dreams breath their last breathe.
9. Wrapped in debris, what was constellates at my very feet.
10. Mosaic of all that has disintegrated.
11. Eviscerate the issue.
12. All my longing carried away in the breeze.
The Noose May 2018
I want to descend
from the razors edges
To stray from these borders
Darkened by virulent desires
My bones crackle
Blood runs cold
Devoid of reason but not choice
The familiar bother
I want to love
The will to be is
But my hair smells of madness
And running and running.
The Noose May 2018
A long time ago
Someone I once loved
Gave me
A box full of darkness
It took me a long time
To realise
That this too, was a gift.
The Noose May 2018
A presence that shed light
On my troubles
And strengthened the severity
I knew not how to rid
of this spectator of my ruin

Perceived silent taunts from
Conjuring up enmity
Made him
Worthy to be disdained
And he was... The *******

I felt tarnished
By this rage
That resided deep within
Poison in my bones

We co-existed
In perfect detachment
And yet
It was a presence
That overwhelmed me
To the point of not
Wanting to be.
September 2014.
The Noose Apr 2018
The shape of the heart
How it echoes from the depths
When molecules align
At the dawn of lucidity
Those shards of emotion
Collect at the edge of you
Your atoms speak of truth
The unsureness of being
And the kindness that blooms
That will be your greatest act.
The Noose Apr 2018
You are
fluid emotion
gliding along
a gentle breeze
The Noose Apr 2018
There was something in our veins
It sat throughout that winter
It bled into the cold light of spring
Caught in the revolving doors
Of madness
Some kind of frenzy
That sits
On the edges of finger tips
Tickles bone
Takes root and gnaws
When it dissipated
It's ghost was the empty
Lucidity was a myth.
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