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Glass Oct 2021
a hand of circular motion
will turn and turn without promotion
a notion of loyalty unbreaking a sure one
but also forgiving will never occur

boxed up bottles full of glass
a burn from plastic flames of past
a cast doesnt mean that broken pieces should last
for the renewal will never occur

fearsome dearsome and doleful
a spur of the moment decision thats hopeful
a bowl full of concepts berating an old soul
but also the meal will never occur

a hungry and mangled existence
a hurt that never heals, for instance
a distance doesnt make you a witness
for the pain has never occurred
10/08/21
Glass Feb 11
i dont know how to make you feel this
i dont know what words in what order
but i want you to see if but a glimpse
what it is inside this skull
because there is such unending emotion
and such vast blankness of nothing
sometimes i will just be sitting on the couch
the most innocuous of places as i scroll through
nothing of any particular meaning or significance
and then it opens
the floor beneath my feet is gone and there is nothing below
there will never be anything below
i will never hit the ground i will never touch the walls
there is nothing but darkness but visceral hunger but black desire
i dont know how to tell you just how bad just how sickening just how all consuming it is to experience
there is nothing else in my world there never was and there never will be
and that is the only thought that can occur when falling
or perhaps im floating even flying
there is no frame of reference
only this black of unfathomable intensity it makes me endlessly sad, infinitely mad, and simultaneously forever unfeeling
it makes me want to scream and rip the skin from my bones
it makes me want to destroy my body and my soul
it makes me want to curl up and cry for days on end
it makes me want to light my house on fire
it makes me want to run away at night in the rain and get hit by semi truck or train
i dont know how to write it so that you can feel just how deeply rooted it is
i want you to know how it feels i want someone to know what i am experiencing but i also want it to be poetic
i want it to have rhythm and i want it to make you feel the worst youve ever felt
because thats what its like when it opens
and i cannot get out and i cannot think of anything else it consumes me
i need to make someone else understand
it makes me aggressive and destructive
i learn by example because it grabs my jaw and pries my eyes
it forces me to look
it forces me to feel
it has something, maybe a talon or a fang, and when it pierces it becomes me
it courses in my veins it surrounds me inside and out
there is absolutely no way to avoid it and now there is not even a way to dislike it
once it is inside it controls me and i cannot even say i dont enjoy it because it is enjoying this and it is me now we are one and it is in power
if i were to still exist i would dislike it
but there is only it
my body has become just an object in its possession
just a vessel for the feelings
feelings is such an understatement of a word for what it is
it makes me so angry that i cannot find a way to truly say it
but like i said
i dont know what words
and i dont know what order
to make you understand and know
021022
Glass Nov 2021
a tongue a knife a rhyme
a slitted try of silence mine
i could never keep it fought
rip the gut right from my life
ill scream the name until i rot
shreik a word so loud ill cry
i tried my luck but missed the cut

a trickled spiggot sputters with it
a soft spot for the eyes that fall out of my skull
flaming pupils burn the crop
the students of the fire
they stop drop and roll into the wretched thought
that comes each time they learn what has been wrought to build this pyre

to eviscerate the weakened soul
the empty rooms inside my home
voraciously in rapture
tearing sinews off my mind
splitting ears and feeding from the captured
nothing left behind my skin no map no muscles
missing compass knees buckled

******* leave me or ill pull the trigger
ill **** the lost and eat the hindered
incinerate your wicked splinters
and in this home
snap each of your twelve ******* fingers

its teeth are gentle on me in a way that only devils can
we're peckish for atrocities and it has given me a plan
a broken handed man within the corridor
his one eye wide
the other in the devils side
a matching type to mine if i still had my sight
the door is closed and i am blind but we can smell the horror more
breaking out we tore into that bodys core
but that devil, him, the house, unborn
as i woke up in a corpse
for i am dead upon the floor
111021
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