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Deep Feb 2021
Deny the fact
Live in a dream...

The reality was not meant
for some of us.
Stalwart Dull Feb 2021
She's a poet who writes for relief
and that made her a thief
Destroy every joyful people's belief
because she writes poetry
that will make you feel such grief. —Tin
Christina Dec 2020
There you were on 658 North Skyline drive, visiting the place where you once called home
With those innocent, helpless girls on your restless, manic mind.
At the age of twenty-five, a hopeless law-student drop out
Sitting in the blistering hot Summer Tacoma heat in your battered beige Volkswagen windows down,
wind blowing on your ruddy face.
Wishing you had a flashy Maserati
Thousands of beads of sweat trickle down your head like a waterfall.
Frustrated and exhausted
Knowing the fate what's going to become of the pretty, carefree girls laughing, walking ahead on the street by your car, but they're completely unaware.
The reminisce of cheap beer and stale cigarettes on your breath
As you quickly glance at your velvet crowbar, that resides on your chair-less passenger side, so desperately wanting another hit.

Jittering with panic inside, that familiar feeling surges with an adrenaline rush in your body, going from zero to eighty in 0.01 seconds
You start to get in a trance with self-destruction, panicking with chaotic anger beginning to emerge again, in waves like the ocean.
The entity begins to set in
Yet something abruptly stops you.
Holding a crumbled picture of dear Elizabeth and Molly, you keep your wallet in your right blue jean back pocket.
Yet you don't give in to your double life.No. Not this time.
Letting the devastating, destructive behavior from the entity consume your entire being.
As you begin to have sudden regret ignoring the powerful, impatient fidgety urge.


Ten girls have now suddenly evaporated into thin air, caused by your harmful doing.
Police and newspaper sightings of a certain man named "Ted" have appeared out of the woodwork,
But you keep that identity hidden under lock and key.
Newsflashes pop up at the five o'clock hour, but nothing seems to phase you into utter shock.

Now sitting in an unclean, rat-infested jail cell in Colorado
The walls only seem to know the REAL you
The light fixture is almost sawed off entirely to your liking, for your excitingly filled escape, set for tonight.
Going through the small labyrinth of the ceiling of the jail,
New, fresh, clean clothes on, and annoying coveralls off
You open the front door, as a blast of the bone-chilling cold goes through your body,
Fast, snow falling on the ground, and luckily a car with its doors  unlocked
You now fade away into the blackness.

After you've completed the horrendous event in Lake City that you so desired to do on a whim
There's now no recollection of your recent event, even though you were there.
The trees with the wind are whispering and gossip your horrific acts.
Only they truly know your lawless stories


A couple of years has rolled by,
Trial after trial, day in and day out
Hoping and confident that you'll win, but each time, you've disappointingly lost.
Judge Cowart sits on his throne, tentatively listens
The buzz from the ***** and pills that your beloved Carole snuck in for you is finally beginning to wear off.
Irritation sets
As you razzle-dazzle each individual with your stealthy charm
The time has finally come that the jury decides your ultimate, timely fate


Flash forward to eight years on death row, with that heavy metal that you wear
Living in a concrete castle, in a desolate foreign land
Indeed not Buckingham Palace.
Rowdy, loud, *****, unclean, unshaven men surround you.
Something that your not used to doing.
Not the place you wish to be at the moment.
Body odor and sweat with no air conditioning in a stagnant, minuscule cell might also be Hell on Earth.
While just an old malfunctioning fan tries to keep you cool from Florida's oppressive heat.
You talk to the four walls, that listen when the detectives get fed up and bored. With your perpetual beating around the bush rhetoric.
You wasted  your life on behalf of your destructive behavior and wrong choices
Time is ticking faster and faster when you only have a few days left till death day arrives
Rose is officially gone and is now a long distant faded memory of your failed career of a deadbeat father and husband.
It's been a few years since you last saw her and Carole as they vanished from your life.
Vanished and stolen.
Like the girl's lives, you had vanished and stolen from happy families only to destroy when you willingly obeyed and fulfilled the entity's destructive wish.
Your tears become your lullaby, for your last night on Earth.

January 24th, 1989.
Your expiration date has arrived.
Rowdy, drunk onlookers are at your last hurrah
The warden swiftly comes to your death watch cell and wakes you up from the unrestful, anxiety-filled sleep you had gotten
Are you ready? He asks you.
No longer now is a handsome forty-two-year-old, but a shaven bald gangly, ailing man, with the appearance of looking like a sixty-year-old who's unrecognizable to one's eye.
"Deadman walking," the warden shouts.
Emotionless expression looks of people that you've once known in your past are now seated in small white chairs
As officers restrain you in the infamous wooden chair, of the many in-humane men who've gone, years before your time.
Adjust your electric crown
Nerves begin to quake internally like a rattlesnake
And in less than a flash, with two- thousand volts, you'll be gone from this world forever.
At approximately 7:16 am, you're pronounced dead.




Alone & Forgotten.
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
There is no excusing what you did
Not greater betrayal than that
Heavier now than it was before
That is certain fact
Stressing me out more every day
Jake Welsh Nov 2020
My past sits before me in a cushioned armchair
mimicking my crossed legs
a swaying foot

I’m so focused on its story
that the walls surrounding begin flickering swiftly
yellow, grey, violet, grey, yellow

in minute intervals, everything else vanishes
except a voice that travels from there to here

the words ever changing as they go, and finally settling upon the tips of my fingers

then, comes to me, names that nurture the weeds in my veins
from my first love, a bright doe
through the birds, vampires and ghosts
all the way to Pan

to cultivate this breathtaking wildflower is my fantasy
so that its fragrance will entrance me into a state of sleep
and take me to a place where resolution is needless

between me and the cushioned chair
are miniscule grains of actuality blended with accidental lies

I know there’s no literal plant
just as I know that there’s no literal resolution
and that it’s not really my fault

I was always good enough to have it all
therein lies the perfect balance of pain and joy

for I do not have any of those people anymore, this is fact
for that’s just how life works, this is faith
here's a preview of from my chapbook in progress. i hope you all like it
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
Regardless
Who is it
While smiling
If you didn't notice
Sparkle in the eyes
That stimulates a mind
And soothes a soul
Never question
Your beating heart
What you saw

Trust me
That's an illusion
Or a painted void
Or a disguise
Or a mask
Or just another lie
Genre: Observational
Theme: That's it
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
Only if you have
Been through
8:30 version of me

You know me well

When I am high
Not that high
What you may have thought
Ink is blue

When I feel low
Not that low
What you may be thinking
Ink is dark

And mostly
Yes mostly
That is my diary
Not camouflage
Genre: Self
Theme: Day in a history
Stalwart Dull Sep 2020
There were sparks in her eyes that no one can see
She admired someone she wanted to be
Yet, it was destroyed by reality
She said to herself, " I can only be me".
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