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Constantine Jun 2018
I could have only one night left
and i would gladly spend it with you
doing nothing
but enjoying the mere presence of your being
is all i would need to finally
rest in peace
this idea of death is so heavily romanticized in my mind that i'd rather die than live past 27
Cedric Apr 2018
I fear the unreasonable indeterminate,
Anxiety that gushes over like a fountain.
My body is trapped in lethargy,
Naught an ounce of motivation to move.

I begin to step and prove,
That my anxiety has turned me petty.
My thoughts trap me in my pain,
I begin to question my fate:

Why do I fear the unknown?
Why can't I escape?
Why haven't I grown?
Why is there a hole; a gape?

I enter into another phase called apathy.
It turns into blatant antipathy.
It exhausts my soul until I become empty.
I get filled again due to hypocrisy and piety.

I wake up; wanting to go to bed.
I can't sleep; my anxieties cover my head.
I get frustrated and I ache.
I give into despair and break.
I get fixed; inescapable, I said.

~

Repeat.
...I can't escape
A reproof of scarlet riviera  
darken its seance that acclaim unforetold entrance
of lactose hence virtual lecture,
edifice with preponderance in guidance if hesitation
ready hinders them entertained by inordinate *** and
whether garish is gruesome for glutenesque and
intricately hard to maintain as their distraction is subliminal
that pain is debilitating and overwhelming in modern lifestyle.
J Nc May 2016
Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood. She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow. She took the snake home and nursed it back to health. One day the snake bit her on the cheek. As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?" And the snake answered, "Look, *****, you knew I was a snake."
Based on one of Aesop's fables. This was told by the old Indian to Mickey and Mallory while they were tripping ***** on shrooms.
Aesop:"Did you not know that there is enmity and natural antipathy between your kind and mine? Did you not know that a serpent in the *****, a mouse in a bag and fire in a barn give their hosts an ill reward?"
D I A Mar 2015
Sometimes...
I cannot hear your thoughts
Your mind to me
Is like smooth jagged glass
Beneath a pool of liquid winter
A lake of crystallized silence.
It hurts.

Sometimes...
I cannot feel your emotions
Your face is like an empty mask
A hollow shell
Your eyes are depthless glass
Living ice.
I can feel your heartbeat
I can hear you breathe
Tears flow down my cheeks,
Freezing in your frigid warmth.
They sound like antipathy.

Sometimes...
We kiss
Mental screams against silence
Passion against nothingness
Motion against stillness
You don't lie
You don't speak
You do nothing at all.
There're no roses amongst the thorns.

Sometimes...
I hear you speak
Flowers blooming in winter
Blood burning through snow
Your voice is a sirenic thing
Filling me
Maddening me
Tearing my heart apart.
A captivating inferno.
A glacial wind.
A numbing kiss.
Your voice is poison.
I crave its touch.

Sometimes...
I wonder if you're a corpse
I wonder if you're hollow
I wonder if you forget to feel.
Your smile
Is an existential thing.
Your laugh
Is a detached melody.
Your stare
Is an empty dream.
Arctic indifference.
Words fading into the wind.

Sometimes...
I can only see you
An aloof statue
A pitiless observer.
Tears flow down my cheeks,
Freezing in your frigid warmth.
I no longer understand you
Perhaps,
I never did.
Flowers blooming in winter
Blood burning through snow
My devotion
To a narcissistic fascination
Your voice is a sirenic thing
There're no roses amongst the thorns.
It hurts.
I wish to **** you.
You don't lie
You don't speak
You do nothing at all.

Your face remains an empty mask
Mental screams against silence
Arctic indifference
Decayed insanity
Inert image upon darkened glass.
What do I do with all these feelings?
You will not die.


It hurts.

— The End —