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Avery Jun 22
I recognize the one telling me
That one guy in my old Algebra class 8th grade
He was stupid, but kinda cute
So why after all this time
Does he come back
But only in my mind
Chris May 31
Her name was Red.
She was a ghost,
Or a bad dream.

Her name was hell,
and more than most,
she made me cry.

She was afraid.
She was fear,
And she managed to destroy,

She was a friend
So dear to me,
I don't see her anymore.

She'd spread her legs,
Sh'ed bare her soul,
She'd bring oblivion.

No more dreams,
No more calls,
No more living, she is gone.

Her name was Red.
I made her up,
My sick brain is to blame.

Her name was Red,
And I grew up,
Without her it's just not the same.
I'm officially going ****** :) a product of my mental illness is the most interesting person I know, yet it seems they always are...
13-17 May 23
though coffee never
I could see in the corner
René Magritte, tacitus
handing me the lovers
lovers under a white quilt
he didn't bother
only my fingers
on the tiny postcard
induced the feeling of
that night I was alone…
my venerated lover
which down the river flowing
initiated slowly
a strong concupiscence
Concupiscence- such a beautiful word, but with hidden meanings
First time I saw it while reading "One hundred years of solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez & it clicked
I’m covered in blood and torn bits of flesh.
It’s soaked into my camouflage sweatpants, turning them a deep brick red.
How can anyone stand the sight, the horrid stench, the shame of me?
A horror comfortably rests in my mind.
It relaxes in the heat of my skull and melts into the crevices of my brain matter.
It coats my every thought, transforming what was once innocent into something unrecognizable even by the most wretched.
My sense of fear has been replaced with a desire to
Take lives, souls, blood from the unworthy.
Nothing but the remnants of my morals has stopped me thus far.
The red passion only grows the more I attempt to suppress it.

The horror is glad to overtake my senses in times of stress.
The sights of torn, mangled bodies are forced upon my eyes.
Bloodshot sclerae, severed tracheae, disemboweled torsos.
The scent of rich rust is all I am capable of smelling now that I am beyond being saved.
I hear the screams of my imaginary victims, clear as day and night.

I wish I could be saved from this horror.
Trisha Gullo Apr 13
the moment
i started breathing
everything was about you
you were my oxygen

your touch is electrifying my body
radiating upon the layers of my skin
sending tingles in my nerves
making my palms sweat
but also shattering and shocking me in every way but it hurts

i am so desperate to love and be loved
but i wonder why
i am here
lying in a cold empty ground
feeling numb
Late at night or in the middle of the day,
voices sneak inside this *******-e-d up brain.
They yell and scream till my mind is tore,
making me think, there, is, no, more.

Toxic yeti Mar 26
I live in a
World where the trees
And neighbourhoods
Are upside in the sky
And there is stars on the ground.
One summer day
A woman decides to
Jump falling
To the stars.
Toxic yeti Mar 22
As I take
A walk in the park
With a friend
I here the familiar
Sounds of dr dre
And his album
I look up at
The source of the music
A chickadee
With a boom box.
Toxic yeti Mar 22
When I was on
A cruise
With my parents
Someone screams whale
I look and see I big whale
Swimming up to space
Then an older
“Sometimes big whales
Come up to kiss your boots
Not that you will notice.”
I noticed.
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