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Starry Sep 2019
This strange
Sun flower
Turning vibrant colours
And then to
Black and white
I don't know
What I am see
A hallucination.
Starry Sep 2019
As I turn on this vaporwave flower
That is in
Neon I wonder
How to get the picture of it to
Go and work
As i use this flower
As a night light
I read and I
Look at the neon art
In the flower
As i sleep.
Starry Sep 2019
In a sea and mountain of liquid mercury
One of the toxic elements
There on top is a yellowwish
Orangery topazy with
Silver spheres
Problebly baodings of  varying sizes
Is this a dream or did I take my meds
Starry Sep 2019
As the boeing's engines
Start
To fail
A
Gaint purple butterfly swaps in
To save
The plane
It's passengers
And its crew
From certain
Destruction
Starry Aug 2019
As I walk
Home from that club
The acid takes effect
And soon
Everything I see is
Pink blue purple and
Is pixelated.
I stagger home
But pass out
The hallucinations were to much.
Starry Aug 2019
As my plane lands at
YOW
I find my home town
Air everything pink and purple
Just perfect pink
Just perfect purple
Ottawa has gone vaporwave
Starry Aug 2019
As I sit in my seat
On the 373 I see the clouds turn pink and purple then out of nowhere
I see this forest with the
Big Dipper poking through
The forest roof
"***"
Avery Jun 2019
Him
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 2019
Red
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 2019
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
evanescence
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
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