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Dreams of Sepia Oct 2015
Dear Night,
please *******
out of my life
back to your bars,
theatres,
prostitutes
& big neon city lights
don't visit the suburbs
of this small town
where there is
nothing to do
but wait for the dawn
& write
because yeah
I'm even tired of that
old hat trick
& again
there are no stars
in the sky
to comfort my
rickety heart
& no-one on the telephone
& no nightingales
in the garden
I think I am going to have to catch a bus & go into town now or I shall scream because the Suburbs at night drive me insane except say, in the summer...
sanch kay Oct 2015
every day, speak a little less
reduce the number of words you say from half to
ten less, and then none at all.

Don't forget to be soft.
Kiss your mountaintop goodbye for
one last sunrise and descend
into the night
where it's quiet
like you should be.

one by one, pull back towards yourself
the orbs of energy you've left
bouncing around you in the
atmosphere.
be their chalice
one last time
and watch them burn out.

and when you're reduced to
dying ashes and deathly whispers
a strong voice will suddenly falter
and they wonder -
*didn't we once know a ... ?
loud no more. i apologise for all the trouble caused.
Katherine Laslie Sep 2015
So tired
of living
I could just
Die
So tired of waiting
For a good thing
When all I'm fed is
Lies
I will never taste
Happiness
The taste is bitter
On my tongue
So tired of neglect
Or the twisted words you said
So tired of the way you
Cry
When there's no more tears
To be shed
Nothing with you
Has ever made sense
And knowing that you
Will never repent
Makes me so tired
I could just
Sleep
Spend all of my life
Forever in my
Dreams
sanch kay Aug 2015
our sick minds, they get no sympathy.
you can get caught in the civil war
your mind wages against itself and
emerge victorious night after night,
who cares, no one's looking,
you're not supposed to show off.
but cry for three days straight
and everybody loses their ****.
i don't want to have this sick mind,
i didn't ask for this sick life,
i'd rather take it all and sell it
to the devil.
since i'm destined for hell anyway, can i get home sooner? this living thing isn't really my thing.
Simon Woodstock Jun 2015
Destruction
Despair
Cut my hair
life isn't fair
but no one cares
forgiveness is foreign
to those unaware of the beauty
reincarnation
DaRk IcE Apr 2015
Im not sure if mad says it...I hear your words of fire while getting burned by the flames rolling off of words like *****! Sometimes Im completely, in utter shock like the cat got my tounge, but cats loath me. Memories flash in my mind of my own suffering of things he wouldn't do or didn't do. I took the burdon, I carried the load. I worked magic so our lives didn't turn out tragic. Not one time did I complain, and having to beg for appreciation is ******* insane. At the end of the day my feelings are forced to drift away, be at bay, where they may. Completely alone, isolated, yet in the core of the crowd. Never seen with all eyes on me. Again...I hear the word *****!! I turn around with cat-like reflexes and bellow words from the sword of my tounge like sir Knight himself. My scold is merciless, my point sharp, my sound ultrasonic. My powers brought forth thunder and lighting into his arrogance. Why must I be drained from the blood running through my rolling veins just to be heard...?
izzi3 Apr 2015
a single momentary lapse of memory in a noisy skull,
just bones, flesh and a shaky consciousness.
slipping awareness and slowly
swimming bloodshot eyes. you're the teenager, the
sleepy head that angrily paces the room. agitated and
stressed out - to the maximum. tightly
balled fists, ready to fight the oncoming storm.
'so long and good night. but before i go you should
know that if you carry on like this, you'll surely do yourself
damage.'
'what of it?' taunts the little voice within the
closed in, confined walls of the skull.
'it's too late.
you're too stressed. forget it.'

and then there's the shouting now, not taunting, 'for the love of god,
bite your tongue and SHUT UP!'

and again, from within. whispering, but maliciously forceful...
'you're desperate and pathetic.
stop crying, you idiot. you're being so ridiculous. no one wants
to hear your ridiculous whining. choke those words back down, they don't matter'

the violence that racks through your bones makes you
stressed and scared as hell, your eyes bloodshot and makes your
chest so painful that even breathing hurts.
unable to stand anything, at all. wanting it all to STOP.
it's not enough, screams the voice. that's another
sleepless night. another night lying awake, tormented and ridiculed
by a voice telling you you'll fail, you're ****. give up now before
it gets so much worse

scream at the top of your lungs, tear yourself apart, if the voice
inside hasn't already stripped you bare of confidence and
everything that once made you, you. it's nearly too late.
and the voice still spits hatred at you.
always.
selfish.
im sick to death of the stress.
impatient, and most of all fed up.
stress. stress. stress.
italics is some of my friends, bold is the voices in my head.
Katie Penkert Jan 2015
That gap.
The one between your teeth near the back of your smile.
It used to make my knees weak.
Now it looks like the perfect landing strip for my eager fist.
svdgrl Jan 2015
Compared you to a child,
but children are less dishonest.
Emma Henderson Dec 2014
Are you as sad as your eyes,
Those dull blue eyes that
tell me you're carrying a dead love
like a heavy carcass
everywhere you go

Are you as weak as your lungs,
those tar-stained lungs that
I thought were going to give out
when you stopped holding your tears back

Are you as lost as your voice,
that husky voice that seemed to crack
and fade out, carrying unfinished sentences
as if you had been gagged

I'm sorry,
I cannot hold your heart for you,
wrapped in velvet to keep safe
when you keep letting her
                                            tear it
                                            tear it
                                            tear it apart
like the beer mats that you abused
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