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Maybe if I had looked for you,
Thought this through,
You´d have come by,
I´d have caught your eye,
You´d come around-
Finally we´d be bound:
A heap of cold bones,
You´d find headstones,
My flesh so long rotten,
Just like always, forgotten.
27/4/25
Damocles Apr 27
Blue-black, clogged, and clotted,
a doll lay on the floor,
cracked and broken.
Not a syringe to spare could save her despair, and they kept powdering her nose,
but only the mirror knew —
where she truly went when looking inward. Bleeding out, razorblades and poison kisses made her the essential cadaver mistress.
Based from a woman I knew in college who wound up addicted to drugs and being pimped out until she eventually overdosed one day. Still think about her…wish the rehab and support worked.
Widad Apr 27
I wrote my thoughts on empty pages,
A future whispered through the ages.
In silence, I built the world I see,
A place where I can finally breathe.

I kept the echoes of my doubts,
But now they’re voices, not just shouts.
Each step I take, the light grows near,
A future built from all my fear.

I felt the weight of shattered dreams,
But now I see them as glowing beams.
What I was is lost in time,
Now I’m crossing every line.

I’m futuristic, born from the stars,
Every scar is a map of who we are.
I’ll light the sky, I’ll burn the ground,
In a world where my voice is found.

They said I wouldn’t make it far,
But now I’m shining like a shooting star.
Futuristic, watch me rise,
I’ll paint my future in the skies.

I’ve walked through fire, I’ve felt the cold,
But now I wear my story bold.
With every tear and every fight,
I’m carving out my own new light.

I’ve built my wings from shattered glass,
Each piece stronger than the past.
The sky’s not the limit, it’s my view,
And now I’m soaring, breaking through.

I’ve been lost, lost in the dark,
But now I’m finding, finding my spark.
I’ve been waiting, waiting for this day,
And now I’m stepping, stepping away.

I’m futuristic, born from the stars,
Every scar is a sign of who we are.
I’ll light the sky, I’ll break the ground,
In a world where my voice is found.

They said I wouldn’t make it far,
But now I’m shining like a rising star.
Futuristic, watch me rise,
I’ll paint my future in the skies.

I’ve touched the stars, I’ve walked through time,
Now every beat is yours and mine.
The future’s calling, it’s screaming loud,
I’m standing tall, I’m standing proud.

This is my time, this is my crown,
Futuristic, I won’t back down.
IMCQ Apr 27
I tended a garden once,
behind walls too low,
in a pasture too wide.

The vines reached for strangers
with reckless kindness,
begging to be named beautiful.

You came with smoke clinging to your sleeves,
promises falling from your mouth,
and I, fool that I was,
welcomed you.

With greedy hands, you plucked petals,
stepped on seeds meant for tomorrow,
your breath embers against my harvest.

The skies darkened.
The rivers boiled.
The orchard withered from root to leaf.

And there I stood,
ash stuck to my skin,
silence heavier than stone.

I stayed to bury what you left behind:
The wilted vines,
the broken promises,
the ruined songs.

From the shattered soil,
I built a citadel from broken things.
It stands, heavy and hollow,
Strong enough for silence to live inside.

I am no longer waiting
for careless hands to stumble upon me.
I do not open gates for ghosts.
I hope their hands break before they knock.
Don't worry, I only bite hard enough to break the skin.
Zee Apr 26
Come bring the bad news.
And tell me all the ways.
You've been feeling blue.

Rest your head upon.
My shoulders.

As we gaze up at the moon.
The night is dark but there's,
Still light to be seen.

You've got a lot of living.
Left to do.

Can't leave your life.
Up to fate.

Hoping you can change.
The chances of the game.

Your life is in your hands,
My dear.

Like the dark it can play,
At being a trickster too.

For a little while you can.
Rest your worries here.

Underneath the stars so bright.
Till the morning light comes through.

Only then when it appears.
I hope you don't feel blue.

If somehow you do.
I've got enough warmth.
For two.
Indulging in the flash, caustic symbolism
No barriers block my path, of hatred guided fury
To escape this mortal life, an underworld destiny
Obsessed seed to mutilate, this religious tyranny

Make them die...
SLOWLY!!

I am called Pariah, bathing in sin
Bring forth the righteous pigs, I shall have their skin
Living for dying, what more can you ask?
My hunger grows stronger, lusting to see
The children of heaven, begging for mercy
I shall make them die, slowly

Die, slowly, now you feel the pain! (The Pain)

Tied down, chained up. locked in place
Cut up. gored out, stabbed in the face
Transfix, crucifix, to Christ you cry
Eyeless, mortified, sacrilegiously putrefied

I have seen through the seven gates
My prophecy of Darkness, killing Christians
And my lust for holy, human flesh
I make them watch their master die
The ******* son, Jesus Christ mordaciously... ...CRUCIFIEDI
Damocles Apr 25
Drink of you like a fountain of youth
Is all I want to do when I open your bowels
To see if you digest anything I’ve ever said
Did it get lost, rattled around in the maze of your head
The rats riddle your guts with disease
And all I’m left with is spoiled love and rotted meat.
So I'm really into metal and horror, I try to blend those in my writing from time to time.
Damocles Apr 25
Over my head
With the weight of your sharp words
I feel like Damocles
As the sword is slightly swinging.

Would it **** you to miss me,
When I disappear into a shroud of my own fear?

Sound echoes through galleys
Filling the silence between us
Like tethering the lines that we drew.

Just lead me to water,
Let the waves surround me
I wish to drown in the deep.

Over my head,
With all of your sharp words
I feel like Damocles.

Let the sword fall
And knight me, nightly
As the dark calls
And I whisper back in my dreams.

Let the waves come,
Swallow me under,
I am drowning again
Deeper in black depths.

It won’t **** you to miss me,
When I return to you again.
This is inspired by a journal entry the night before I attempted suicide, looking back I wish I had the tools I have now to take care of my mental health.
Reece Apr 25
Like yin and yang,
Opposites attract,
The sadist and the *******,
Could attest to that.
Though their relationship was uncertain,
There was one fact,
He’d never raise a hand to her,
No, he’d never hit her back.

She let out all of her pain,
As she relished in his.
She hoped that he would fight back,
That was her one wish.

He cried out in pain,
As he took each of her kicks,
Feeling pleasure,
Though he was embarrassed to admit it.

The ******* had convinced his mind,
That he needed someone inside his life,
To break away his fleeting pride,
To break him down to where he wanted to die.
He never tried to run.
Why would he?
Who would be there to let his wife,
Blow off steam?
He took all of her blows,
Wiped the blood from his broken nose,
And deep down he knows,
He should get away, but he won’t.

She feels triumphant,
Her heart felt filled,
Laughing at the misery,
She never felt any guilt.
He hides his bruises,
Panting with relief,
As he covers his contusions,
Cursing the reprieve.

The sadist convinced her mind
That she just needed someone to hurt in her life,
Someone to satisfy,
Her parasitic urges before they killed her inside.
She never pushed him away.
Why would she?
Where would she let out her pain?
Who would bring her glee by hurting?
She punched and she beat,
Trying to blow off steam,
An attempt to retreat,
From the loss surrounding her feet.

One day, the sadist hit the *******,
After having beaten him around.
There was no scream, there was no cry,
Just a thump as he crashed onto the ground.
The sadist dropped the hammer,
And hid her mouth behind her hands,
Thinking she killed the love of her life.
The previous pleasure,
Faded to more pain,
As she cried and sobbed,
His blood left a nasty stain.

She called the police,
And turned herself in,
They took him away in an ambulance,
As she was in cuffs.
She felt no peace,
Her heart now broken,
Their fractured romance,
Was never enough.

But the ******* wasn’t dead,
And awoke months later in a hospital bed.
Paralyzed down from his neck,
He wouldn’t feel much of anything again.
While the sadist spent the rest of her days,
Locked in a cell, boiling with her pain.
She promised that if she ever got to see the light of day,
She’d go to the ******* and say,
How sorry she was, and she’d try to change.

Yin and yang,
Forever broken apart,
Though opposites may attract,
They can also shatter and leave scars.
The relationship,
Long gone,
But does anybody,
Win in the end?
No,
Nobody does.
A darker poem.
B C Steffan Apr 24
A thing is a thing, isn’t a thing
What makes a thing, a thing?
Is a thing, a thing because
We call it
A thing?

What then of things that
Haven’t found a name?
Does discovery make
A thing?
Then who made us
A thing
Can a thing
Make a thing a thing?

Light is a thing
I see it
Fragrance is a thing
I smell it
Music is a thing
I hear it

Dark is a thing
No thing
Is not having a thing make
A thing?
is a no thing, a thing?

Is
Love
A thing?
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