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Lift me, Gift me
some flowers
Pale and rare.
Bereave me of love,
Tear me bare.

I was all chasing your Shadow
In a desert Vast
I had to tell thee Numberless
Grievances of past
Jonathan Surname Oct 2018
The soul is missed by me dearly.
It contained within it, simultaneously,
spark, spirit, care, and glimmer.
Lit by an inestimable null.

The escape of which I now suffer.
Is a daily sick.
Of waking up with shuddered groan.

I miss the soul when it had chance.
Even if my end were purgatory.
I'll take the grey to the decisive ends.
Focused edge where bright meets blurry.
poor decisions early ruin a lot later on
wish i learned how to cope instead of how to stop, drop, and roll
A Simillacrum Jul 2018
Have you ever clicked that button and seen the next page?
For those missing it there, here, I'll explain.
For just seven US dollars and fifty US cents
a month you can subscribe to this event
and receive two disconcerting things.

First of all, the page itself says you'll be favored by the staff.
Secondly, you'll have more influence than those who don't pay
to influence the trends, which means, control of what is seen.

If you're confused, let me use a modern analogy. More online games than ever use this method of operation, free to play on one side, the other pay to win.

This keeps the total number of overall players high, and with these two sides in the same environment, it's only a matter of time before the desperate give in to this disparity and express piety with cash else completely fizzle out.

That's exactly what we have here. If paying expressly means you immediately mean more to this environment than those who don't, what the hell is the point of this at all, Elliot?

Why not bite the bullet and fully implement a pay-wall?
That way everyone who gives you money can be left alone in peace and harmony to ****** their ***** and/or their *****.

This might work with a game which contains intrinsic rules and values, but to use money to decide the fate of art is the same **** that's been going on for centuries.

Notice to the newer names on this site:

Beware.
You are a commodity.
You are a $

And if you air a grievance, the names who give their money will jump to the defense.

Can't you just be happy and not complain?

The poetry they use their sunshine to boost,
funny,

says the same thing.
LOL. XD.

Cover that ***** with pitch and flick the match.

Nail in my head, from my creator.
You gave me life,
now,

Show. Me. How. To live.
Zero Nine Oct 2017
It's been heard I'm adequate with words
If only they knew,
they knew less
than the full
story

It's been said I'm blithe, articulate
I'm pleasant at that
That I have
and want not's
compensatory
transitory

In the end, I'm worth forlorn words, no more
In the end, my has-been charm goes dead weight
In the end, I'm your additive to the dull days
In the end, my gains come from a snake's tongue

In the end,
I'm nothing
but words
for reading

black lies
on the white light
of a flat screen

In the end,
I've nothing
but words
beneath me
beneath me

Beneath me twists and turns the caverns where my heart grows.
I call it art to your face, when I'm a broker by trade.
You won't know that you trade, you won't see that I sell myself.
You won't feel the hidden strings on your cervical
spine until you've given your food, four walls, window and door,
given your love to a dead duck scanning for escape.
at certain things, i excel
but in doing them i hurt myself
Zero Nine Oct 2017
Oh,
Another 5 second ad
So harmless,
harmless!

Oh,
Another 5 second ad
I can't ****
- ing skip!

It's
Not that I've not the time
-- I do!

It's
because we've
figured how
to fit
the least
necessary ****
into
just
one
blink!

What is typical is shown
What is me is mostly unknown
I don't want to be the ghost in your eyes
before I've lived, before I'm dead
sometimes it's easier than others to feel like a product.
Zero Nine Oct 2017
We've our grievances
right
here in hand

Blood soaked envelopes
stamped
sweat and seal

They use empty truths
to pitch hate
as a promised land

They sell their answers
used, as is
to the fearing masses

And they do so
dirt cheap
dirt cheap

From a throne
of our skulls
and ancient
bones

.our ******* bones.
thrash trash post-*******
too many years
of mutual grief suppressed
had left
   it seems
only a craving for 'revenge'
and for material security
    in her

and while he would have gladly
left her everything
he needed some things
for himself

and so they fought

— The End —