ink flows out of my brain
through my blood vessels
to my soft fingertips.
my hands curl into fists
as I crumple a sheet of paper.
a corner lightly cuts my finger,
and the ink flows onto the page.

Flesh of a lonely man
Needs make up
Wreaths on this list coming

Crossing out and ticking the boxes
We’re still holding the dust of souls
And ashen glances look like desultory glances

****** on the nursed streets
The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives
We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes

Feigining for the father figure
I hope we have had a good time
The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly

Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding
Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court
Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever

Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking
Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never
The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit
I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run
Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way

by Arcassin Burnham

Sorry if I'm a little hard spoken on this poem,
But the ******* that i put up with for so many years got me
Clinching my fists and releasing my hate on the tree in the
Backyard where all the weights are, no point to recharge,
No point To be on guard,
**** this life and the people that tried to end mine,
Picking on my mental illness,
I can see the end around the corner.
Is it a crime to want to live in peace, no there no peace nowhere,
They say God doesn't put you through something you can not beat,
And while I'm torn between the fake and reality , I can not be.

get up, kid
wipe the dirt from your pants
wipe the blood from your cheeks

get up, kid
bare your teeth with your chapped lips
bare your fists with your bruised knuckles

get up, kid
scream
scream and let your throat go raw
but don't stop
       don't stop
       don't stop

get up, kid
make me proud

my heart is a shield, it shall make people heed before they fight into it,
my fists is a reliable weapon i do not wish to use, but i do,
my skin is where my weakness lies, where things can crawl all over it with or without my permission,
however my mouth is where i can strike those in the heart, its a canon i always use,
and my eyes?
my eyes.
one of the worst of them all.
my eyes can hold the warmest sun but also yield the coldest storm

They may have this moment,
          immature gestures of
  what lies beneath there misgivings,
of pushing me against the walls of
                                    my self-esteem.

They may have this moment,
           glancing words,
          reverberating, like fingertips
                      on crystal shards,
within the static frailty of
                                        my self-worth.

But my moment was when,
                            I realized I wasn't
                                          broken
                              damaged,
It was all about there need for control
on a world that has none.
        And I'm no longer there's anymore.

My words of thanks, yes your quite charming!
With your systematic verses, but you need to
vary oneself.
As you sound like a repeat of
                       last nights show... And repeats get boring.
So what manner of vocabulary, abusive motions
do you want to play out?? if none please just move along...