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Salvador Kent Jun 10
You seem so sad when you laugh.
I still don't understand why.
I can see mourning in your dance,
When I catch a glimpse of your eye

You look at me in a state
Of desperate pleading
And your closed lips whisper
"Unwanted Euphoria" at every breath.

New order ask you how you feel
Over the speaker in the corner.
You want to answer but can't.
Mouth the words instead.

Adolescent night life
Is so false. You say
Outside. Smoking the **** end
Of a cigarette.

How does it feel to abandon old friends?
To love? To cry? Live a bittersweet lie.
Why did you love her that way?
What did she say

As you stared into her eyes
That night. A long long time
Ago. Did she smile in the way
Lovers do in hollywood?

When we talk you challenge me
In ways I never expected.
You reach into my soul
Like Princess Psyche.

I thought we were all young
And sadly dumb
In the modern age.
You tease. You anomaly.

And yet you still stare at me now
Dancing across the room to
The melancholy synth of new order,
Screaming unwanted euphoria.

Take me outside poet.
You say in unwanted bliss,
Make me draw a pretty picture,
Turn off Blue Monday.
I like this one.
Salvador Kent May 28
The riverbank in July
Is always a pretty sight.
There's something about
The way the light
Dances with the water.

And there was an electricity
In the air. You could smell
It from two metres away.
Like a virus. I felt a tension
When you smiled.

And then you took your shirt off.
Still don't know why,
Maybe you just wanted
Your skin to feel the symphony
Of the electric sunlight.

That added more complexity
To the smile that crossed your lips.
Fine wine. Onions. Layers.
I had only known you for a week,
Maybe that added to it

When I saw your stomach,
My face dropped, the old
Electric stars in my eyes
Died. Replaced with
Unmissiable scars.

I wanted to say something.
Anything. Even if it was
An "always here"
Borderline cliche,
But at least you would know I cared.

I wanted to scream "**** IT!"
Why are we this way?
How can we allow souls
Like yours to go to that
Place? I felt an ache.

And there is an old
Cliche. That scratching
Scars onto a page
Makes the feeling of
Failure go away.

I finished and said **** it again.
I started at it for a while.
Your stomach filled with scars,
And I almost forgot
That electric smile.
Part of a collection I'm working on with a friend, I think it's going to work alright.
Salvador Kent May 19
Go away
Infuriating half intrigue,
Old friend, go away.
*******. There's nothing left here.

Nothing. You took it all
When you took old soul,
Old heart, old friendship
Why come back for more?

What more do you want
Infuriating half Frenchie? They were
Different days where I was drawn
To the way you smiled.

*******. Please.
Leave me alone.
Things are not the same.
They never will be.

And it's a shame...
Because there's something there...
Old friend, there was love there once.
Now there's just a scar.

Old scars left by
The inexplicable
Feeling you had.
The old fire of love...

You're so blue, she once said...
She didn't know the alternative
Was burning red.
Put out the old flame dear,
It's only hurting you now.
Put it out. Love is unbearable,
Blood, fire and roses that's what
It is. Never ending blood fire and
Roses. Old frenchie. Go now.
Leave me alone. It's over now.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
Please. Go. Kiss on a cheek,
Romantic bliss. Dance. France.
Pale moonlight. Old stars.
Blue recently always so blue.
Thought of her eyes. ****. Weep. Days.
You loved her like you loved the birdsong
In the woods. Hours. Days. Months.
Red was the colour of love...
Blood, rose, fire, scar.
Old Frenchie. Old blue eyes.
Old leave me alone I want to be alone
Like I said a year ago. Go to sleep.
Sleep. Please. God is dead. I should be
Dead. To you at least. Inexplicable
Feeling. Old love. Old red. Why can
I never wake up...? Plenty more fish in the sea they say.
I've been half asleep
For days...  leave. *******. *******.
Never ending *******. *******. ****...
It's like a spiritual sequel to blue.
Salvador Kent May 12
Have you ever felt alive?
Watching sunsets and saying
I vibe with this **** unironically
As you watch the stars lying
Next to your dream?

Vision. It's all a vision you
Don't understand, never will.

Broken to pieces,
She doesn't worry about you

******* pieces and she just stares
And laughs, maybe it's just you being

Nobody likes someone
Who complains about everything...
You see that in blonde girls eyes,
Those eyes that tell you what a ****
You are with a glance... you would
Take offence but they're right.

You're a fat ****.

There's a pain in your chest,
One you can't describe...
It's an emptiness,
Like someone has torn your
Heart into a thousand pieces...

Who the **** are you kidding?
You tore your heart into one thousand
Pieces with the assumption everything
Would be fine in a few months.

The **** you tell yourself.

You always feel the need
To organise thoughts into
Second person so a sense
Of abstract thought remains
In this shitshow.

General noise...
Can't stand it…
Some girl naked...
Says she's never felt the
Way she feels about you

You didn't care for her...

You don't care for anyone really...

Which is fair enough because
No one cares for you.
They say they do...
Because they think you're a sob story...
******* tragedy...

Drop a text
To someone you talked to once...
They don't give a ****...
Why should they give one about
The minute details in your ******* life...

Nobody cares about you to be frank...
That's what the voice in your head
Says at it replays the image
Of your dashed brains against a wall
Again. Again. Again.

That's a pretty image,
Your face crushed to pulp...
People who never cared screaming
Your name again again again...

That's a pretty image.
Tears streaming from the eyes
Of people who told you to ****
Off when you were empty inside.

You were always obsessed with eyes
Thanks to her...
Can't say adieu or goodbye
To thoughts of eyes...
Thanks to two warm minutes
Last winter...

You ever felt alive?
Perhaps for a fleeting moment...

Far away... in the place
At the end of the world
With the old man smiling
At the rising sun...

In a locker room with Frenchie...

Or maybe thousands of miles
Over the sea, exploiting technology...
Looking at the stars fly across the
Night sky...

Happy times...

When have you felt alive?

Downing red bull midday in the sun?
Laughing your head off
at a biology teacher
Screaming your name?

Frenchie teaching you
To love again?

You miss her…
Her from a year ago...
Where your impression was
You were taking things slow...

**** this.
**** it all.

Dash brains out against a wall...

You're lost...

Dead and lost...
Ambiguous thoughts...

Braids in hair...

You ever felt alive?
I don't know.
Life is one of the most powerful things to write about.
Salvador Kent May 11
Cold wind blows against your lips...
Staring at each other as the grey sky
Contemplates the look in your eyes...
Painful. While hers is mellow, soft.

Haven't eaten all day you say
As a soft glance of anxiety catches
Your gaze and disapproves.
You should eat she says
Sorry your reply
Good please, don't want you to die...
I know.

And she talks about mistakes...
How she's learning from them she says
And you agree and wish for the wind
To kiss your cheek and make your
Blush seem natural but it seems that
You'll just have to ache
With pain in your heart as she asks
Why you blush.

Car park roof...
Sunset hidden by the grey clouds
And there's a cup in your hands...
Warm. Calming. And her gaze
Is directed towards the distance
On this car park roof that you love
So much for some reason.

And she says life is a pocketful of posies.
And you don't know what that means
Regardless, you agree...

You love her.
But you don't want to say...
Blanchette walks away
Smiling. Happy.
Although she's stopped saying
I love you.
Because it's just not true...

Life's a pocketful of posies
She says...
Treasured words.


It's over now.
Doesn't matter...
Blanchette moved to France.
You told her how you felt
That last day...

Kiss on the cheek and then she ran away.

Life's a pocketful of posies you tell yourself.

Life's a pocketful of posies,
That's what she said...
And now she's gone off to France,
With a kiss on the cheek
Blanchette's gone to France.
A poem that's an exercise for a play I'm writing.
Salvador Kent May 11
They stand over a grave,
And sing a song about going home,
Home. From a far away land.
They shout, cry, rage,
Because now the grave contains a dead man...
Everybody feels so, so alone.


Rain rain rain.
Pouring down in streams,
Pouring down the lonely roads,
Pouring pouring downstream.
Tears. Tears amongst the rain,
Tears down my cheek,
Desperate tears ******* please,
Please tell me this is all a dream.

Then in the constant rain,
Pebble falls to my feet,
Pick up the pebble,
Carry on walking...
What the **** is this dream?

Is it a dream?
Am I in a dream?
Is this wood I see
Dead wood
Lonely wood
Is this wood a dream?


Your eyes glisten in the moonlight...
That's what I once told blue eyes.
Glisten like the ocean at night...
That's what I told blue eyes...

But she's dead now.
Had to let her go.
Glistening days are over…
I took a boat set sail...
Blue all over the place,
Hard to move on
*** it's all I see
******* blue
Tormenting me
And the moonlight…
Beautiful desperate moonlight
Reflected failed moonlight...
Is now pale.

Oh blue eyes.
Dance with me in the pale moonlight,
Let's dance underneath the stars...
Dance all night
Till the sun starts to rise,
Even if it's just for a night
Even if it's just for a night...
Please. I want to be satisfied.
I want you to glisten once more
Glisten in the moonlight.
So I can be satisfied.
Happy and satisfied.

I love you blue eyes.
You're all I see.
You're in the ocean,
That I'm travelling through,
You're in the birds,
That sing to me at dawn...
And you're in the rain,
That bought me that pebble
All those years ago...

And they say that you're in the moonlight,
Every once in a while...
You make the pale moonlight blue...
I want to make it blue with you...
Please. I want to make it blue with you.
Even if it's just for a night.
One night dancing under the pale moonlight
Then I'll drift away forever.

I know that's what you want.
Blue eyes.
******* pretty blue eyes.
Loving blue eyes.
Sickly blue eyes.
Beautiful blue eyes.
Come dance with me in the pale moonlight.

Please. For in a while
The moon will lose its shine.
So come. For the first and last time
Please take my hand
Dance with me in the pale moonlight…


I'm sorry I was wrong.
Shouldn't have asked.
I'll bury my love for you in that grave,
Remember what the dead man told me.

Love is painful, always has been.
And if those blue eyes
Don't feel the same.
If they don't want to dance with you
In the moonlight that's now ******* blue.

Then all your feelings,
However strong...
Have to stop being feelings.
No more dancing,
Sing a sad song...
About coming home.
Because blue eyes is going home.
Leaving you behind.

And you have to keep moving on.
An old dream, an old poem.
Salvador Kent May 11
Breathing down your tired neck...
A soft hand touches your cheek,
Pressed down against the warm sheets...

Kissing your neck now...
Happiest you've been all week,
Even though you're in a dream...

Feel warm,
Warm beads drop from your forehead...
Warm inside...
But only because of the pressure...
And this is the happiest you've been all week...

But it is only a dream...

Blue lights block body...
Lose all personality,
No touching bodies...
Only words on a screen...
In reality you are lonely...
Imagining that hands touch cheeks,
Imagining that it's all meant to be...

It's not meant to be.


Broken figures attack your cheek...
Distorted. Thirsty for blood...
The beads on your forehead are sharp now.

Painful. Cold.

You want to wake up from this dream.
Wake up from this sleep…

But you can't wake up.
You're fast asleep.
But only because of the pressure.
Only because of the pressure.


Cold silver against your soft cheek,

Arms don't give the same kick they used to...

Never got to the blood stage with the sharp metal...

Perhaps today you will...
Today is the day to violate soft cheeks...

Today you're cutting your cheek...

Happiest you've been all week.

But only because of the pressure.


Crumpled boy on the street,
Being sick... on his side.
His face has been kicked in 1000 times.

In front of a crowd who only played along...
Because of the pressure.


There's a pressure in your heart now...
It screams stab me please...
It screams I want a sweet release...
It screams mori...

It wants you to give in...

"Forget the notion of pressured sheets...
They will never make you happy"

"Forget a boy crying in the street...
You will never help him."

"Slashing your arms doesn't help at all...
Give in to my pressure…
Stop trying to be happy...
Just give in. Mori."


Breathing down a cold neck...

Bitter. Macabre.

Dead body staring you in the face...
That used to be your home...
Now you're just a roaming soul.

Dead. No skull.


For heart craved sweet release...
From a bitter ache...

Heart said it could be released...
If you treated it to sharp pressure...

And you also felt that ache...
That crave. The desire to mori...

Heart pleaded for sweet release...
Your soul will still roam...
According those sweet books,
You read before you sleep...

Nobody feels the same.
She doesn't feel the same.
He doesn't feel the same.
No he doesn't feel the same.

So why bother seeking pressure…

Self apply pressure.

Mori. Die.


Cold body. Buried. Broken.
Under the pressure of the earth...
And in a macabre dream...

It's eyes open.
I always create all these elaborate visions in my head. This is one of many.
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