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It's putting thoughts
Into my head
I thought
That's what they said

Not real,
It didn't happen
And they're
The last ones laughing

Conversions that goes unheard of
By everyone except me
But I was there,
I sw**r,
These aren't the colours I should see.

I want my mental soundness,
But there are so many sounds
Most of them do not exist
Too late this was found

My state of mind we detest
But my delusions don't give me rest
And they refuse to confess
Again I fail the retest
For reasons like these I don't trust myself
i loved a man once
who never loved me back
i wish i could say my love was pure
it was not
i loved who you were
or maybe who i thought you to be
because the real you was now here
standing in front me

i didn't feel that love that i had so thought i would
it was in my imagination
pieced together with delusion
this is what you feared most
why you never let yourself fall
you saw right through me
and i'm sorry it took this long
it isn't simple
it's a convoluted path
but i finally got here
i hope you're ok with that
Lifted from the river of routine
Wring from me, the wetness of weary
Let me dry upon the soil of desire
I stand in fields formed by the fantastic
On each vine I spy
Time growing ripe and restless
Hearts swelling in soft feeling
Laughter long and lasting
And everything is in abundance
So I ****, pluck, pick
Accumulating these unclaimed riches
And bottle them into wine
A thousand bottles I store
Then the fine liquid touches my tongue
Delight dances upon the taste buds
And I’m wealthy, in love, in time, in laughter
For years I do this
Learning nothing new or worthy
Banning all knowledge
For even a single frayed book
Could disturb
All of this
Bliss
Though the Isle may be different for each person, we escape there all the same..
Ancient Seat of Versailles
Sweet shimmering palace
Place of majestic mirrors
Reflect the grand beauty you store
So that each vision
Is distorted and deformed
Yet still retains the brilliance
Of picturesque perfection
Like Capitalism unsoiled
Or Socialism Unspoiled
A duet of ideas
Promising the good life
The great life
Heaven, before it was hardened
By revolutionaries of reality
Sappho supports thy serene crown....
M A H Jan 26
We bleed the words we cannot say,
and oh how it hurts.
I am red and blue and all the colors that make you squirm.
I am an embodiment of all your demons,
a walking talking facade of how things could have been.
I am the bags under your eyes that never go away,
a reminder of why people leave without a sound
and you will always love me.
26.1.19
rin Jan 13
I can’t get you out of my head.
even though your eyes,
have already told me the truth.
yet part of my being still screams;
you are the one.

why do you hate me so much?
and why can’t I amend the past,
when all I ever wanted was you-
and the future I’ve dreamed of
so many times before.

it’s maddening,
to dream of you when I know
you dream not of me.

we share no glances,
no conversations, and such
just the occasional pass-by
and the longing I slip out of my mouth,
along with the scorn you say back.

i hate it. i hate you
yet here I am, thinking about you
please just rid the future in my mind,
and stay in the past where you belong.

ease the pain of my present being.
and let me free from the chains I built.
my delusions are my poison,
your hatred makes me sober from the fantasy.
Kellin Jan 10
cracked cement ramparts,
a less than mighty bastion,
  swamp cooler overflow,
   drool down the battlement.
    behind the stockade walls,
     faceless generals barked
      orders to their private troops,
       drilled their little soldiers.
                
           “welcome to my castle.”
      
       you call this a castle?
      heat throbbing off the
     parking lot convinced me
    to chance crumbling stairs.
   and there, step four, flight two,
  i bumped into my white knight.
okay, maybe more like gray.
i’ll compr with silver.
shamori Jan 9
Attached for life
A reminder of tough times

Not to remind me of tougher times, but to remind me that I’m still in tough times



Can I cover up how I feel with how I feel?

Just to look down and feel ashamed of how ashamed I am?


Will you look at my skin and wonder of a story? Ask for my motivation? Or look at my skin and make up a story and wonder on my lack of motivation?


I feel good about my designs. They define me.
I hate these designs. Because they don’t define me.



With pain comes pleasure. A sign of living.
With that pleasure comes numb and a longing for living.
esriddersi Jan 5
browning leaf fallen
ripples bleeding lake alone
distorting our world
even just one parchment-dry leaf can shake our vision
esriddersi Dec 2018
Coerced by Delusion, how could he
remember? To wake up
cursed by Her lies stained his mind. Love seemed forgotten and  
coerced by delusion. How could he  
traverse that fine line of truth he slept so soundly on?  
Condemn her? Awoken, he saw True love can’t be
coerced by delusion; how could he?
Remember to wake up.
a world without love is a nightmare with no sleep, no rest.
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