My poetry is open and bare on the examination table
While my brain falls into place in the exsanguination cradle
Pieces fit together like a monster from the old world fables
Set up to disassociate the Kanes from the Ables

We're all meant to die
There's no harm in asking why
Self harm, drugs left in the arms, premeditation, self incrimination
It won't matter when we're stitched up in a Y

Theres hidden meanings in every line
A chance to put aside all the woes and keep feelings burning inside
When things are on the decline
I can write down facts and theories
Like self investigation as to why I'm feeling weary
No Overbearing intoxication here just a rough cut heart of ice melting due to overheating and slipping liquidation

What's better on a Monday than some nihilism

Catching every glimpse of beauty that is what holds me steady, Misunderstanding and under estimating the quantum possibilities that these eyes see through time and space I face the endless darkness that can hold any man steady. Dealing in disappointments or is it pointless to call for change, A feeling so strange like being on center stage, The darkness so bright I can see nothing, I can feel nothing, I am numb am I here.

skye 1d

god, i can't stop thinking about how it feels to be in your arms.
your big bear hugs. where your muscly arms wrap around my ribs. and my cheek rests against your chest. i'm so small, wrapped up in you. when you hold me it feels like a golden fire crackling.
like the warm buzzing in your chest after taking a  shot of spiced rum.
like rolling yourself up in a blanket and dozing off.
like the smell of rain.
like when the sun is at the edge of the horizon and bleeds fuchsia.
like the sound of fireworks popping in the black sky.
like the feeling of warm sand in between your toes.
like safety.
i wish i could stop craving that comfort.

skye 1d

"one day i'm going to break down those walls of yours"
that used to sound comforting. that you would save me from myself. allow me to be vulnerable and be safe.
but now that sounds like a threat. you're going to crack me and watch me crumble. you'll pull out my guts and hold them in your hands. you'll have power over me now, and i'll be vulnerable. you know i'm scared of that.

I have no noise to make
with nothing, but little to gain,
painstakingly;
in a world of material simulation,
I weep for the death
of God.

Reason has no quarter,
no mournful lesson.
Faith has no hope to
serve the trinity of Man.

(1) Meaningless presence;
(2) folly without consequence;
(3) ubiquitous treachery
lurking from every
century.

Awaken!
Unsheathe thine sword!
Please the Lord! Endlessly.
With mercy through death
and Christmas and sex.
Seduction and presents
devoid of Presence.
Catharsis without
gnosis as Hallmark
Cards disarm
implosion.

There is no home
in the hearts of wicked evildoers,
nor in the heart of the archetypal Harlot
whom an army of orphans
follow to the end of history,
into the horizon of the non-event
and a world fractured by
infinite regress, chaos,
and resent.

Blessed art thou who have faith
for they shall be subsumed by
a social force so ungodly and
so covered in filth that he is
authenticated by this corruption
conceived of worldly conviction
and invoked for material evil.
  
Blessed are those who skirmish with the age,
who explode pathological certitude,
who war with the times quietly
with (s)words so powerful
that no soul could bear
the poison.

I have no noise to make.

Silence alone
thus spoke
to shake
the soul
of man.

To spell the end
so all can see
the sword
divide
the blessed
and the damned.

In the end
the world returns
to the Mother
of Chaos
back into the
depths of feminine crush
into the pain filled horrors
that almost never were
but eternal in their
finite existence
fixated by
masculine power
nuclear radiation
liberates flesh
bound soul
into static
where
ghosts
purvey
the scene.

They spent the day
eating t.v. dinners;
she had Hungry Man,
he had Kid Cuisine.

Grandma changed the channel
from Middle-Class Meltdown to
an 80's cartoon about robotic bears.
And he said, Grandma, this is scary
- so she turned it to a show with
pre-teen children and vanilla jokes.

The sun melted into orange and purple,
spilling over the horizon like melted sorbet.
Surroundings purged a different dark.
Shadows stuck more than usual, she noticed.
The Lurking was present, even if she didn't
quite understand what it was or where.

A few days passed, where she could
feel malevolence nip at the heels of her home.
She remembered her daughter,
at a recital, dancing with grace --
this helped her fall asleep.

She remembered the phone ring,
radiating a green hue, stating
words she didn't understand.
Answering it. This helped her
wake up.

axr 1d

i'll tell you what's fucked up about society
a man in a room filled with women is excited
he is checking every one of them out,
his eyes searching for the one with the biggest boobs
and the ones with the big ass,
his eyes scan the pretty faces for the sparkling eyes and by the end,he's convinced that he's in love with the girl with the perfect smile.
he is quick to point out their flaws,
one of them has a button nose
and someone has acne scars on her face
one of them happens to be taller than him
and another one a different race.
he is excited,he is aroused, he wants to get lucky, he want to make new friends by the end of the night.
in the locked room, he wants to have a time that only vodka can make him remember

a woman
in a room filled with men
is terrified.
she buttons up her shirt till she can feel it choking her.
she covers up because she doesn't want them staring at the bits of skin exposed.
across the room, she sees a man winking at her and quietly rubbing himself.
she desperately looks for a safe space, a familiar face,
she looks for somebody from the locked room who can save the day.
the men slowly encircle her and mentally undress her
and with every item of clothing they remove,
she becomes more of an object.
she is anxious,she wants to run for her life,she just wants to make it home safely by the end of the night.

the locked room is a paradise to one
and hell for another

this is actually a spoken word poem. i have been experimenting with new styles of writing since the past few weeks and this is one of the products

No longer am I surrounded
By the sweet embrace of Joy
But forevermore clinched
In the painful grip of sorrow

The agonizing maze of despair
The ripping tides of pain
These have come to me
And all I feel is null

The tears once shed
Have all but gone
Leaving hollow voids
And salt stained walls

Seeing through the distance
Feeling what once was
Lost in a space of forgotten
Hoping to begin anew

buried in darkness
beauty begins to blossom
in a world of pain

Sanny 1d

A heart once filled with so much love..

Now grey, slowly turning into stone.

Love is fading, it's getting hard to feel.

A heart so tired it's shutting down.

With every beat it gets colder.

Another heart lost to the dark.

No more wasted love.

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