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Haruharu Jun 17
Blinded by disease I lost sight of you.

Your words spoken by the voice of my demon.

I felt your love, though the intentions got twisted.

Your touch, familiar yet foreign.

I'm losing it again, reality.

My mind, a place of dark whispers.
Kamilla Jun 17
I Plutonium, and you Cyanide
Both poisonous at touch
Yet, we each longed for a taste
I dreamt deadly dreams,
Of sweet Cyanide,
Bubbling up my skin
Rising up towards my neck
And my only thought was,
How pleasant
And you
You would speak highly of Plutonium
Admiring it’s properties
Knowledgeable of the damage it could cause
But, not aware enough to care
Eventually, we both met the same demise
Choked out,
Plutonium and Cyanide
Christian C Apr 8
A brain chemically imbalanced.

How could taking two little white pills every morning
slowly but surely resolve eight years of major depression
ameliorate symptoms that strangle the mind and spirit,
destroying self-worth, competency, basic functionality.

Despite a set-back of a month of unstable, barely restrained
suicidal thoughts, whole-heartedly consuming every minute
of conscious thought and shattering already severely fragmented
sleep, the only repose from the onslaught of endless thoughts
each one affirming deservance and supplying means to an end.

The vile depression, mind-warping, heart-marring, shape-shifting,
perspective-rearranging, adapting to every new environment,
clawing its nightmare-grip further into my chest day after day,
haunting me even in its remission: the depression was sinister.

Body and brain scarred and healing, starved synapses react,
a regiment of medicine, taxing-thought, and long-scarce love,
but indisputably vital: taking two little white pills every morning
slowly but surely resolves eight years of major depression.

A brain chemically balanced.
"At last"
Poetic T Mar 15
If love is a chemical imbalance, I'll always be dizzy for you
N Mar 8
In the morning,
I plant a pill
on my tongue,
and it blooms
like a chemical kiss

In the afternoon,
I wash my face and
wounds with blood

At midnight,
the rain pours
on my pillow,
but I don’t weep

Every night,
I sleep in the burning house,
but cannot feel its warmth
Nicholas Feb 29
****** all my life
I want the drugs
pump all the love
strike to my vein
I’ll die in vain
that is my pain
stuck to my lane
born with the rain
nothing to gain
till I met Jane
now I feel sane.
Breathe deeply kiddies and get some virus
Cyrus the Virus is here to **** you
Novichok flavour just for you
VX nerve gas special come get some
You'll feel fine better than the Black Death
Roll up and and get some bugs
Only the best for you lazy Millennials
Made in Russia mothertruckers
Neo Soviet influence touching you
Reaching out for you wherever you are
Even on the Moon or Planet ******* Mars
Not even Santa and Old Nick are safe
Novichok gonna get you virus kaput time
TheRhymeRenegade Nov 2019
Shiver cold, where has my home gone
structure isn’t made of brick or boulder
its collar bone, bathed in blue light from your phone
tip of the roof, your neck and shoulder

I shouldn’t dare, without a care is where I tend to do the most of my damage
You learn to share, and separate the pair, they send you off hoping that you can manage

Flesh and bone and heart and ache
in it in the end for what we take
optic tract symmetry
all we really want is everything

We learn what we see and we don’t say what we mean
What a world full of confusion
squeaky clean, you’ve never done a thing
Until it all comes down to the conclusion

So take it in, be sure you learn to swim
majority of us are drowning
so come inside, I’ll let you run and hide
And teach you all there is to know about me

Flesh and bone and heart and ache
in it in the end for what we take
optic tract symmetry
all we really want is everything
A love song I'm working on about
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