Cece Jan 4

Hope:
“a desire for a certain thing to happen”, according to the dictionary.
And yet Hope grants no wishes.
He pushes the doubt to the back of your mind.
Until you’re fully convinced nothing bad will ever happen.

Hope hurts, I’ve learned.
He betrays the most innocent.
He beats you up and shoves you to the ground.
Why?
Because why not.

Hope is like that ex that turns up just to spite you.
Hope is that guy you were in a serious relationship with, then suddenly cheated on you with your sister.
He brings your spirits up just to smash them back into the cold, hard, ground.

His enemy is Disappointment.
He’ll try so hard to keep you away from her.
He’ll say “I’m protecting you from her”.

When you meet Disappointment, however, it’s somewhat of a relief.
She welcomes you with open arms.
She’ll hug you tight, until you’ve melted into her embrace.

But now you’re stuck with her.
She’s a little rude, definitely honest, and sad.
Really sad.
And yet she’s better than being with Hope, even though she coaxes the tears from your eyes so they flow like a river.

But Hope seems so much worse. Because Hope makes everything better before he destroys it.
Disappointment, at least, you know what you’re getting into.

You brace yourself for her.
You know she’s coming.
Hope is the unexpected one.
The surprise you never wanted.
The surprise you never needed.

L M Biese Jan 1

I have this wish
and nothing can ever take it from me
even the darkest night

I have this wish
and I'll try my best to get it
even though people don't see it

I have this wish
and maybe I should just OPEN MY EYES
and see how foolish it is

I had this wish
but I needed to grow up
because wishes never really come true.

Akash Mandal Nov 2017

Her despairing mind
searched for thorns
on her floral print dress.

Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017

Thousands of generations,
Spoiled by the copious luxurious commodities
Corrupted as, per say, the hollow mass embraces - no, conceals
Their will to live - the pure essence

As comes to mourning in grief, wallowing for the lunistice
Devouring their last sliver of animation they contained

Thus bring in the artillery - what purpose has armistice
When the last threads of humanity are dictated
By bullhorns ridden with shards of bone, in enamel coating
Cavities open gaping wide as they drill their song through your cranium

The hypocrisy of the social hivemind
Intellect seeping through luminescent containers
Stacks of pixels draining the vivacity from your hollow casts

In its infancy, it was decorated as revolutionary and beneficial
In status quo, replacing the primitive necessities
Disguising them as enhancements
As they absorb the rotting cells in the marionettes
Indulging themselves indefinitely, erratically
Resembling maggot infesting their corpses

The fallacy of its concept governing the output
In alacrity, the symbiosis of computerized machinery
Ad interim, I remain shackled in my own habitat,
Demonising the occasion, disjoint from the remainder of whatever humanity
Remains in the soulless remnants of a man
Reciting the soliloquy of the hypocrisy of humanity

I should really contemplate my life
melanie Nov 2017

I sought the stars
with wild, hopeful dreams
to only come up short
& break the cheshire moon

My childlike heart
now beats with  a cynical clink
& the sky is barren
where light once shown

jilted, tilted, scorned
reckless laughter flows from my lips

TheGrimRaven Nov 2017

as you try to weave through your words
                                 without bothering to look behind
                                as i breath again the familiar scent
                                thinking 'please, if you don't mind'

if i could just picture a perfect story
                                                           ­        of us last night
                                                           ­                                      intertwined
if you will just let me
                                          for one last time
                                                                            just be blind    

                              but for this particular moment
                                        let me be delusional                                           
                                          let's make a deal

                                           because cliches
                                   fairytales and love stories

                                      those weren't real

Dovey Oct 2017

Watch them, throats slashed to raw bits
Outcasts, the lot of them, in groups so lonely


Drinking our own mothers' amniotic fluids
and crying out "you should've aborted me"

She bragged about eating a fetus, and I flinched
as she bared teeth stuck with tendon strings

and he on the outside showed of a tongue
which had tasted her uterus, of all things



Look at them;
Hands stained with their own semen and blood
Laughingly showing off the latest cut
Where's the poetic beauty of immortal youth?
Warped perversion is what we amount to, in truth

Perhaps I'm being a bit too cynical about it?
Mary-Rose H Oct 2017

I'm a wounded dreamer
turned willful cynic
who rejects
the stained and shattered ideal
that anything earthly can be perfect.

And yet...

that night
under the lights,
those
mere
couple of minutes
in your arms
swaying to the music-
nothing could have made that moment better
which sounds an awful lot like perfection
to the ears
of this
wounded dreamer.

triztessa Oct 2017

when i am craving
something to keep my mind off
you are always
in my space

when i am craving
nightmares instead
of waking up at all
you are always
in my eyes

tears fail to come
keep me company
these storms are every day
counting on me
when i am craving you

when i am craving
careless to say
anything
for myself
i forget for a while
how to feel at all

when i am craving
being alone again
i am carrying
the weight of you

i thought the sky cleared
out from my eyes
monsoons still passing by
under different roofs

did i omit to say
i dreamt of you?

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