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eva-mae 3d
Pulsate your peevish pain
through every inch of me,
call it love,
your preposterous purity
pumps in my veins now,
I cannot escape your
Vice, I laugh that I once

That is a part of me now.
That same sickness satiates
Each nerve of mine.
That same slaughterous sin
sounds like the echo of
My bare bones.
That slimy sidekick that
You call sanctimonious
Writhes, sorry in my skin.

Pre-existent Angelface is nothing
But a wistful, naïve miracle!
She is chained with heavy wire,
Remains in my grains.
I believe she weeps, out of sheer
Celebration, for she is a
ferociously forgiving creature
Blind to her suffering.
self reflection
Creator Sun Aug 23
Loneliness is but a thousand words,
A solitary figure, nothing more,
something less.

He will never be complete on his own,
yet he cannot break through the bars of his own existence!

He exists to be lonely,
yet he can’t exist without others around him!

The others that surround him, ignoring him;
The others that surround him, that haunt him;
The others that surround him, that don’t notice him;
The others who exist just to place emphasis

On his pitiful, meaningless, excruciating existence.

He is not alone in his situation,
but he is alone.

He will forever be alone.

Unless someone breaks him free.

Ye, found my first poem, submitting/publishing it now.
Silver Jun 9
I am
the fading ghosts of fingerprints on cold windows,
the colors blooming ever so slowly in the sky at dawn,
the murmuring voices of family through walls of safety

I am
the sun that meets your waves at the horizon, no matter how far it seems,
the warm breeze wandering down from clouds to caress your arms,
the comfort of lost doodles and poetry in the quiet of night

But it all changes when I see the oceans that are your eyes,
and the warmth that is your soul, bared free for me to see
the hand holds and careful gazes that we share,
the knowledge of “together” and just being there

I feel beauty in ways that are impossible to describe.

But I can try,
try to put these feelings into words,
just for you
i wrote this last spring but i just dug it up from my black hole of a desktop

it's a bit different from the usual but i think that could be a good thing too
With emotions
Protruding like spikes
On the ball of a flail

Her presence
Consumes the room

Even her voice sounds
Rough, pitted by
Adrenaline surging
Through her veins

Her mood
Is more than stern
As if bitterness
Rests around
Her heart
And all calm
Is hidden somewhere
Within her shadow
* Merriam-Webster word for the day, May 28, 2019
YYC Apr 28
Waking up,
That sweet, sweet smell of music.
That beautiful sound of the toaster ding,
And the wonderful smell of sunlight,
Peeking through the careless curtain edges.
It's going to be a wonderful day.

That is,
If I get up.

Keep reading.
mia Apr 1
her clothes reeked of cheap perfume and daddy issues
polyester black cloth elegant and purposeful in its placing
she lived by the motto “everything is free if you run fast enough”
and figured that something was going to **** her anyway
why not let it be something of her own design?

she asserted this often
taking a drag of her pernicious cigarette
forcing her careful and cultivated opinions on everyone within shouting distance
if only to silence the sadist inside

besides she had already walked in loneliness through
most of a lifetime
full of satin bows and
amusement ahead of her
for she had no one to go with, neither kith nor kin
so it might as have happened now
because everyone always loves you better when you’re dead
mediocrely morbid (thats not a word) and kind of lame. still, fun to write and hopefully fun to read.
Crystal Freda Mar 14
country girl
toddled back home.
sepia leaves traced behind her
tumbling on the flaccid, dusty loam.

country girl
in her licorice colored boots
daydreamed at the piebald trees
rotting from their roots.

country girl
dancing in auburn checkered dress
sprinted home mirthfully
looking like a mess.
grace Feb 18
her lips taste like lime
bittersweet to me
when im gone from her life
will i be a flavour to remember
Beanie Jan 29
did i ever tell you
about the way your hair
shines in the sun?

did i ever tell you
about the way your eyes
sparkle with mischief?

i don’t believe i have.

allow me to,
grant me this one favor,
my only request from you.

let me tell you about
the way you smile,
nothing could make me happier.

let me tell you about
the decadence of your voice,
nothing could bring me more joy.

let me tell you about
your passion for what you love,
nothing could be more exciting.

have you had your fill?

eaten and drank enough words
that you might sink
to the bottom of a river and settle there?

have you enjoyed yourself yet?

have you found happiness?

have you felt contentedness in the warmth of your chest?

stay at the bottom of the river,
where your hair is a dull gleam,
your eyes glassy and vacant.

stay sunken and stuffed,
your smile vacuous,
your words unspoken,
your passion swallowed down.

are you worried yet?

can you still move?
still breathe?

are you certain of yourself,
of your surroundings?

where are you?

are you still alive, even?

is your heartbeat strong as it was moments ago?

this is no love poem,
this is a ****** poem.

this is where i drown you,
fill your lungs with your arrogance
the same way i filled your ego with words.

this is where i cross the line,
from love to hate,
fire to ice.

i am your lover,
am i?
Taste of sugar - maybe stevia
In the back of my tongue
Where the throat meets the muscle
And draws the line, the border
It’s so sweet despite not having a sweet tooth
I can’t handle it though
Some can’t handle the thought

I don’t understand
There is
This sweet taste
At the start of my throat
Every night when I lay awake
I wonder why
It won’t go away
Every time I pull an all-nighter I have this weird sweet taste right there. It’s so weird and it always appears after four AM
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