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Pyrrha Jan 8
Your angelic words wrapped with demonic intent
Wont reach me from all the way up there
Your pedestal is too high, I'm afraid I can't hear a word you say
Your godlike vocabulary can't hide that devilish motive
And for as much as you lie, you are one awful liar
That angel light of yours can't blind me anymore
I have a special pair of sunglasses now
They block out all the repugnant **** from sight
Contoured Dec 2019
The water in my faucet is red,
Because the pipes have began to rust.
I should've cleaned them out,
But the problem is I just..

I just couldn't return to the pipes because I always seemed to crave pb&j's when they'd come to mind and I quickly forgot about them.

I miss the once clear water,
I remember when it gained a tint.
I should've cleaned them then,
But I just didn't...

I didn't want the chemicals to touch my hands and make them feel the way hands do when they touch chemicals.

I should buy a new faucet,
One rust free, preferably matte.
It would fix all of my problems,
But the problem is that...

Is that it'd be a different faucet.
Transcendence into the 7th circle
The emptiness a grave remembers when a funeral ends.
You looked into my eyes and promised me we would douse together.
Vanquish together.
You forgot about me
how deeply I cherished you.
How could you forget.
Im nothing left.
The crying of a violin in an empty vessel.
You deceived the entity out of me.
You writhed into my soul, quietly, but still, like the grim reaper lingering at my bed side.
The snake ingesting it’s own tail.
I can show you emptiness like you’ve never seen.
The hesitation to bear something.
Clever in hand, you painted my throat.
It spilled deeply, it spilled sweetly.
A cue to the abyss.
The return of the foul mouthed fool.
They whispered rot.
Their heads turned as they danced around my carcass.
They bathed in my blood, they felt rejoice.
I’ve been worn as a pelt.
I’ve been made a sap to the sickly.
The raven of death gorged my eyes.
The marbles that reflected my pain.
I was blind.
A blind sore stumbling over disparity.
I ruminated into sorrow.
I ripened death.
I married it in a vail of red.
Vows made in blood.
This is what love feels like when the only person you cared about suddenly feels nothing.
Jade Welch Mar 2019
I didn't REALLY lose you.

The reality of it is, I never really held a single piece of you,
but you possessed my entire heart.
s Willow Jan 2019
I was born with a shining golden ring.
The ring looms above cracked and chipped.
Once lit my path,
now breaks my neck with the pressure it brings.

I’ve sprouted demonic wings
Jet black feathered wings.
I’ll fly silent.
Terrorizing the earth
with the people of the night.

I’m not yet ****** to an eternity of
Suffrage and Hellfire.
I’m not “blessed” to spend time in peace either.

I’m stuck mangled into the pain of earth.
SC Kelley Jan 2019
Skin like flowing flames
Eyes like infernos
Lips that make you spill every drop of your desires
Soft sharp fingers brushing sins into your soul
A voice like boiling honey
Promises of wild fantasies
Contracts in blood
All tricks of the Devil himself

~S.C. Kelley
For the curious sinners
md-writer Nov 2018
Hell is with us. In our hearts and in our hands.

I don’t know what is in my head, but there are pictures whirling, images dragged up from far away, from places I have never been, and darkness that presses in hungrily to consume the soul of all humanity.
In me there is a foothold. God! In even me a grasping hand able to wield the knife and divide my soul from itself and laugh. To dance around the fire wherein the bones of my victims burn. God, the horror! Flitting shadows, creeping faces, a shuddering crawl because I cannot run.
But of course, if my legs are cut how could I run. There is no hope, but blood and death and horror and laughing faces asking for new dissections.
My body a cocoon of fire around my heart, pulsing out in the open, literally. My chest is torn open, carefully peeled back and my body a spectacle. There is no redemption in this grotesquery. This madness filled with the devils of hell themselves. They gloat over me, reeling drunk upon my destruction and the utter shriveling of the souls who dance around me. I am fighting my own demons not to burst into a million tiny seconds of my life, like shards of glass shatter under too much pressure, a flitting signal in the night like a light snuffed out by wolves. Slavering jowls, moist breath pressed unwilling against cold flesh, and a knife’s blade sliding, gliding through the pathways of my life’s story. Veins emptied of their proper element. Pried open.
"Lay them bear!
Let us see the very soul of you - the inside of those veins. Let us dare to go where no man has ever gone before. To do what no man has ever dared to do. To brave the depths of hell for the satisfaction of knowing that at last we have done something new, something that no one will ever have the bravery, the courage, and dastardly faith to do in a hundred years."
No god was there in that room, only the screaming devils of hell in all the world about us, laughing, laughing at the misery we make for ourselves, the utter torment into which we flee to tear our own souls apart beyond the light of day. There is nothing that we can do to stop them. They are all around us in the night, and in the shadows they are lurking, creeping, whispering. Let them come into your soul, they only want to play a little, gleefully singing the songs of the ******. They are not the ones you have to fear. It is the old devils, the ones who are still insatiably hungry, that you have to worry about. They say they're just here to have fun. But, oh you poor deluded soul, don't you know the fun they call is ******? The messengers they are is death’s own hand, the scythe-wielding master of the times of tombs and all things. By the way, its midnight. Don’t you see the clock? You hear the ticking. They are coming closer, ever closer. Don’t deny it. You know that they are here, it’s true, it’s true. You felt their breath late at night breathing down the back of your neck’s soul.

Hell is with us. In our hearts and in our hands.
Sarah Jun 2018
I fell in love with a demonic woman.
I knew her claws would scar me,
her touch would burn,
her eyes would betray the words spit from her lips.
She sold her soul to the devil,
and I gave up my heart for her.
Written 06/02/2018
Aa Harvey Jun 2018
The Flibbertigibbet

Such a ludicrous name, unto you may never have been heard;
But The Flibbertigibbet Demon lives in the land of words.
They hide there in The Thesaurus, in front of our eyes,
Like The Devils spies in paradise.

The bookworm with tapeworm, failed to see The Flibbertigibbet;
But then one day The Bookworm, just happened to come across it.
It stood out from the rest, because it didn’t sound human;
Then I read the description and it simply said Demon.

The demonic disguise, lead to the corruption of the mind.
It is now forever entwined, with the Flibbertigibbet inside.

(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
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