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Di Verce Sep 20
A bordello of blood and beasts
Takers, stinkers, roaches, pests
Selfish lustful rabid grotesques
******* of garbage, heartless toward guests
Waste of time to reach for them
All they desire is pornographic
Something to get off on
They don't desire to change
Wastes of breath
Ackerrman Aug 15
I dive left before heading right, more times than I care to admit,
Each time I turn right and am not confronted, it feels like rejection,
A small death of little consequence for the life that could have been
So sweet, so superficial, a mini life grew- as I read your bio,
To be dashed in another instant of silence,
I have a tendency to rush into things without much guidance.

Your voice is sweet and smooth- to read,
Imagine a personality that fits- perfectly in the palm of my hand,
Conveyed in small white messages, poked through smaller holes,
Each one I read makes me feel a little brighter inside,
But each little light catches fire and dies, I must confide
That each one I read makes me feel alive.

But only for the moment, so I conduct another,
Small parcel containing another little piece of my soul,
“If you can feel your soul slowly, slipping away, that means that you still have one”
That is a phrase that will lead you to defeat before you have begun,
It leads to me giving away much less than I can afford,
These ‘one for one’ serotonin boosts are leaving me bored…

So maybe we could meet, go get something to eat,
I am sure that I won’t be bored by your topic of conversation,
Or at least I will try and make it look that way,
Because the cold reality is that we have nothing in common,
Except for a lack of self-esteem and an overestimation of our-
Social skills, next to non-existent,
I am perpetually distant!

I am sure that you were terrifically disappointed with last night
Because your messages are written on withered pieces of paper,
A full stop is the most definite thing that there is,
Subtle undertones have a pulse and it beats,
Black blood to and from a dying heart,
I should have known that you were poison, right from the start.
My bleak outlook on dating is definitely why I don't get many second dates :)
sushii Jul 27
i go outside
and i despise
the sunlight in
that little girl's eyes

why was it me?
it hurt, you see
i'd have preferred
you to **** me

inside hurts
throbbing pain
shooting straight
to my brain

why was it me?
i'm not a toy, you see
i'd have preferred
you to skip me

bleeding soul
growing old
flesh is mold
love feels cold.
Kai Jul 19
Though social situations
claw at my heart
and make it frantic
the scariest company
I am ever with is within me

Because alone with myself
is like walking a minefield
every thought a calculated move
to not step on a bomb

No matter what other say
it isn't as scary as me
because I cannot run away
from my own thoughts

People tell me I am ****
I know that I am nothing
my thoughts already know
I am worthless and disgusting

The darkness lives within me
waiting inside my mind
to drag me down from within
and strangle the air from my lungs

Sure other people are scary
and social situations tedious
but nothing you can't avoid
or grit your teeth through

But as I grit my teeth in a smile
a voice within shouts at me
and tells me sweetly my inadequacies
I listen to it as it picks at me

It tells me what I already know
what I know everyone thinks
it tells me I am not worthy
of affections or connections

The worst place to be
is anywhere that includes me
because being with myself
has the hardest company to please
Rage flows,
When the pains shows,
That others have to go through,
When there's nothing you can do...

****** eyes,
Bruised thighs...
All from they guys they've come to trust.
It's disgusting...

And the saddest part of it all,
Most won't even tell a soul.

Because they don't want to worry us.
Or maybe,
It's too dangerous,
To try and run away..

All I can say is,
Don't be afraid to try and trust again,
Because I swear,
You can love again.

Because, we can help.
Even if it is, just to listen.

~Robert van Lingen
Rose Jun 6
BB
I lied at your feet, a skinned hare
Too vulnerable and a hair too soft
You were a butcher
Not in the way you remember
Rended the flesh from me
Proud shroud, the face of a hog
A bellicose, famelicose swine
Not in costume, but in character.
Iska May 12
I hate that I am eating.
I hate every bite, every swallow.
I hate every taste, every wrapper.
I hate the bile that raises in the back of my throat every time
I try to consume food.
I am so so very sick of it all.
So sick of needing to be high to even want to eat.
So sick of the feeling of being full
And I hate my need to be rid of it.
Of trying to force it to stay down
But secretly wishing that my ***** will drown me.
I hate myself when I do *****.
But I hate myself so much more when I don’t.
But they say I’m pretty
But they say I’m better
So why is it so hard
When every swallow is burning me alive
And every ***** makes me a liar.
And every skipped meal makes me a coward.
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