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17711 Oct 2020
my eyes are no longer spouts.
they are steel made of lost consciousness.
and as for the well
it has been taken by dunes of soot
and this,
this milky shadow.
disgust flowing slowly through my flesh as time drags me by my eye lids.
screams from above,
yelling from their crystal lungs
"save yourself"
loudness without understanding as they quickly dissipate
and I am taken
turned to shade
black lightning slowly strikes, like the way liquid finds it's path down glass.
all the exit signs have burnt out and caught fire.
this flood of abysmal embers that glow white, but also black.
and the stygian bolts that cast shadows within and all around.
I am very much dead, but with breath
and with each, I seep.

poem or plea?
17711 Aug 2020
the grim held my lips
away from yours
crowded with the hail of red lights in all four directions
as my veins crawl from my mouth
I placed the period before the beginning begun
I've never known you
instead abysmal dreams are now my company
or what I now know as reality
they have engulfed me in some sort of straight jacket
if only the future happened a little further in the past
I might have tasted your skin instead
and saw the deep color your eyes might have kept
along with my soul
my lips have instead been taken into melted burgundy
and scalded by your absence and my unknowing lover
I am drenched in ignorance
that is my death
and my own betrayal to what was comfort
17711 Apr 2020
the hazy afterthought
of the bathroom so near
as I collide with the doorway
the blue dawn welcomes me in
bathed in my vision (the angel of fear)
tangled in torment and torture
silent screeches pierced through my ears

I know she has passed
a long time ago she slipped
but last night I found her wrapped in white water
crying from her wrists
and as she vanished my eyes opened
as I lay drowning in the minutes
17711 Mar 2020
what do we have, but this life.
our gods that stay hidden within our minds.
be it unseen,
or undesired.
distinguished as love
and, inevitably, being misplaced.
our memory passes as wind.
and the moments, bursting from our eyes.
but I ask you
what do we have?
but to experience the misunderstood
and grieve from incomprehension.
we have the very thing we call life
and, from time to time, we're told this
by the joy, the pain, and the mystery
that runs down our faces.
17711 Oct 2019
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side
streetlight by my side

the whites in my eyes die
and I am swallowed by the memories
of that lost streetlight
17711 Sep 2019
she can't tell you
about the face of God,
but she can show you a garden
that's equal.
17711 Sep 2019
great plains in the sky
made of lakes yet fallen


white static floating from smokey stars above
of which we can see, but cannot touch


burnt mountains without melting expressions
chilled whispers laying seconds to their coffins with it's infinite lullaby


bold, sunken opticals played by illusion
connected to an ***** of wires and circuits
connected to

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