K 16m

He has a habit of picking flowers
and putting them in waterless vases

He plants poppies and marigolds on his bedroom floor
Nettles grow where his feet fall

He becomes another bloom
Without sun nor rain

He lies down in the green


When he is happy
It feels like I'm putting my tongue to a 9 volt battery
He rushes through my veins
Shocking my system
Sparking me up like a cigarette
Giving me energy I've never known

When he is depressed
It's like drinking battery acid
His kisses spill darkness into me
My body attempts to filter the black tar
Leaking from his lips
There's a heaviness that doesn't go away

It lingers in my chest as he does when he's happy
Tiny flower buds atop
Little floating feathers
Filling me up

When he is sad
They do not float
6 tons of flowers and feathers still weigh the same as 6 tons of steel


My love lies bleeding
Among the green sprouting around him

You cannot purge darkness
Into porcelain with fingers down your throat

How am I to pull these weeds
Fighting the vines twisting inside me, whispering

"Lie down beside him
And wither too"
The candle flickered in cowardice as
The storm shook paper kites from old
Tomes, buried words taking flight lessons
From wind warriors, the quaint church
A whirlwind of witchcraft as day lessens
Into the domain of the careful, cautious
Forest nauseous from swaying, playing
Too long in the evening ecstasy that
Drove saints to slumber and sinners
To sanctuary.

A hallow heathen walks the forest fires
Kindled by lightning strikes and malice
Even Alice sought safety in the rabbit
Hole, stole a red white kite of calamity
But the violent delights did not stop him,
A silent end dead behind with good grace
Disgrace held left, a bloody mace right
The storm now spectator to his stage
A tempest rage taking staggers many
To sanctuary.

Purpose and tree pyres took his desires
To the forgotten church in the forgetful
Forest, bark nor leaf remembering terror
Once tried in these woods, for wife, child
And charity drowned the evergreen crimson
That Bloody Sunday, bodies lay Monday
In mud and morning murder, further
From salvation as the husband makes
Destination as a justice bearing pilgrim
To sanctuary.

Unholy doors bowed their heads in respect
Only to expect atonement from the hurting
Husband, heeding the candles in cries
Of pain, punishment, a most pure place
Shrouded in impurity by the lonely soul
Bringing flame to the wood crossed faith
That smirked down at the man, mortal
Facing immortal, but the burning husband
Knew he faced eternal glory for bringing
Divine Inferno
To sanctuary.
You can already tell I'm a fan of Divine Comedy from this
nim 3h
I'm feeling
Like an empty shell
But the core
Of nothingness
Is made out of
Pure sorrow

Is that the word?
It doesn't describe me
Hell, nothing does...
So I'll just
Keep doing
What I know best;

It's pretending
That I'm normal, even though
I am well aware that I'm not
And I was never near being normal
And I cannot be described by normal words

Nostalgic. Melancholic. Sad. Depressed. Abyss. Apathy. Darkness.
Pretending to be
All that I'm not.
But, I don't know, what am I?

Empty words can describe me.
But I cannot choose them myself;
If I could, what would I choose?

I'm tired.
Empty, inside.
Dead, inside.
Unable to be
The real me.

And it's wearing me down.
Every time I disappoint you.
Every time I'm empty.
Every time I'm not what I should be.
When I'm not enough.
And when I'm too much.

Empty words, empty head, empty promises, empty purpose, empty meaning, empty feelings.
Is that what you bring me down to?
Is that how you see me?
Empty, of humanity?

The words are echoing in my ears.
That's the room I sit in.
That's the life I lead.
Maybe that's me.
Perhaps it is, when you don't see what I see.

Happy, joyful, worryless.
Perfect, pretty, shallow.
Skillful, amazing, badass.
Crazy, mad, fun, reckless.
...but empty.

It's a mark you've made.
Are you happy?
That I'm empty?
That I'm turning into you?
Are you empty?
But am I?

A lot of people see me differently,
Like I just wrote.
Each line for one me.
Wait, I write?
Why didn't you write it down?
Because I had to write, EMPTY, twice?

So are you looking
At this empty moon tonight?
Are you staring at the starless sky?
Are you partying in your empty house?
Are you crying, in your room, or in  your empty soul?

Have you been feeling empty recently?
Is it contagious?
Do you feel sorry?
Did you mean everything you told me?
Did this world mean to hurt me?

Am I empty?
Is the world empty?
What's my empty purpose?
Is it to be empty?
Is it to be me,
Or is it to be you?
Larri 4h
I thought I knew you.
I thought the puzzle pieces of our hands were made to fit together,
I thought my loneliness could be thrown to the dust,
And burned in he fire of my passion.
I thought your kisses hurt because you were hungry,
I thought your words were drowned in truth,
I thought the gun you had was make believe,

I thought you loved me.

But you were just a stranger.
There was a missing piece,
The fire was really just me drowning in hopeless need for you,
My bruises remain from every foolish night.
And your lying words were really my friends and family telling me,
"Don't trust him.
He'll hurt you."

The gun was real.
The bullet was real.
So was my love,
So was my death.
Love is a dangerous game that is risky to fiddle with. Be careful with those you trust, you never know. I've never been in an abusive situation but too many people have, one is too many. If you or someone you know is in this situation don't be afraid to get help immediately. <3
Nexus 5h
I committed suicide before I even started life.
I plan to over time, let my health decline.
And by the time, i'm twenty five,
I'll be ready to die.

Even if I change my mind.
It'll be too late to look behind.
I close my eyes, let out one last sigh.
And I say thanks to myself,
I can finally die.
You want to change lives?
I want to change deaths,
Impact  the reasons
for ending a life,
not for living one.
This life feels like death
it  kills and burns
and pushes me under its deadly waves
holding me there
so desperately trying to drown me
but I always win
even when i don't want to
When does this life end
because I need to escape
So, good thing I can't live forever
come, sit at her feet.

for she has become a murder of crows,
creatures of shadow
nested in the crook
of her cheek.

come, lean into her,
one and all.

embroider her in a hundred strands
of golden, crystal being

(we stand by her
as she reclines
into her rehearsal.)

for she has become the foil of a fairy,
a lifelender,
gracious, debt
bronzing into pores.

come, hold her hand.
then let fingers brush feet in final blessing.

for she has become marble, neoclassical,
genesis leafed onto apocalypse,
la liberté éclairant le monde.
On her final day, she taught us how beautiful we become as we prepare to leave this planet.
CGW 20h
Close your eyes.
Let your body relax.
Let every tissue, muscle and fiber dilate into the clouds.
Collapse into dust, into the other world, break out from this planet.
Reach out.
Way out there in the middle of nowhere, where nothing even exists, where you will soak in a cosmic bath of star waves.
Where you can drift on cosmic waves of energy then slowly dilate into a more vivid world.
Banners torn
A single horn
Blown to start the war
Peace has fell
Damning us to hell
Men shaken to there core
Women and children aren't safe
As the men question thier faith
In a god willing to allow all the death
The body's burn with the land
Lives brought down by hand
Witness kin draw their final breath
But soon it will stop as all these things do
Finally brightness will be returned to the hue
Because men, they forget that these things they have happened before
And we can never have enough, our bloodlust seeks more
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