Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Saint Audrey  Sep 2017
Saint Audrey Sep 2017

Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over

Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner


Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and

It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm

Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces


Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root

My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind

I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself

Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night

Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone

Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits

JL  Aug 2018
Heroin is my heroin
JL Aug 2018
In brief: scalpel words so cheap
Misanthropic cold compress
Jaded and hard in denial
Heavely Medicated without

Mute Pain
Guilt soaked peace
Once more
At least
On this rock
I’ve built my church
And drunk of this poisoned cup

Salted sigh the spike
Do not resuscitate
For the bones of it
Are a pistol cool pressed
To a temple

Sleep without rest
Please, one more breath
Vein or scar
Blood loss
And the cost:
The cracks and lines from where you gave up, they make an easy man to read
Bard  Jan 22
Bard Jan 22
Being alone leaves me lost in infinity
Ever chasing for my own ecstasy
Searching for something happily
Longing for another so sorrowfully

But together I just hate another
Disgust for life and the other
Hate myself and every other
Misanthropic, people lover

Lonely days fuel love and desire
But my days spent together
Leave me too tired to bother
God and the holy father

Have only ever abandoned me
Left me on a raft lost at sea
So I ice my pain with cold tea
And say "well, let's wait and see"
Time isn’t linear,
It binds, stagnates, restricts, and corrodes,
the past entwines with the present;
teasing futures better left undreamt.
So, I hold onto you
as the rest of the world slips and fades
transfixed by the reflection in your eyes
as history shatters behind them.

My reality has become the taste of the adrenalised adoration
poured by my own hand as I hold you.
I found you reading between the lines of my own rapture
then we were left to make sense of the impulses
always so ubiquitous with pain.

We found synergy  in contempt,
I wanted the masses to see
but they’d never understand our parade of incomprehensible pretence and apprehension
or the way we paint universes
and only allow the other to step inside.

They’d never understand
how paths threatened to cross
teasing collision,
but we always chose abstraction,
the catharsis in subjugation
where each bruise is a tale of fantasy.
Obedience never leaves room for question.
Even in your absence I never found resent,
just an eagerness which swelled beneath my ribs
as though I’d found the key to the lock on the iron cage
which constricted me.

I write poetry for only flames to see
misanthropic prose which paints you a deity
on a pedestal above the flames
but still, I’m too afraid
to show how the last strings of my sanity are arranged.
This is kinda what my soul looks like

— The End —