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Intellectual stimulation* from a twisted mind
Bringing life to the *insanity
I tried to hide
Cracking whips to break the chains, feeling death drip from my veins
Pouring poison down the drain from infections inside
Chasing rumors through the sewers, lost in tunnels of depravity; God's the only viewer but this show's not quite reality
Gravity scraped knuckles with me all the way down
A brute stuck in a boot loop asking me to drown
These restarts after crashes turned my synapses to ashes
Now I can't feel the rats in my cyber cerebral casket
Dead in the head and strapped into my bed
I dug at my wrists until I saw red
The doctors applauded at everything the gauze did
It still couldnt stop it *so on it bled
This life has become more than I ever wanted it to be and the future looks even more hopeful as far as I can see.
ryn Oct 2017
Days with deficits
Let me give you what you need
Take all you can get
ryn Oct 2017
Sticks and stones...

Thoughts are just
sticks and stones.

But words...
They break bones.
ryn Oct 2017
You don't see my eyes...
They look away whilst my cheeks
with a band worn thin,
hold up this mask.

With effortless ease,
I maintain this smile
plastered upon the sheen
of cheap mouldable plastic.

Fooling others
with a face acceptable by default,
when my neck and collar
stain wet.

Protected and hidden
are my innermost thoughts
and emotions - a morbid
sense of oneness and freedom.

I, therefore, cannot shed
such an accoutrement.
This mask - a fort I will hold and
a bastion, I will not compromise.

Because behind it I feel safe, hidden
and unjudged.
ryn Oct 2017
Inclined to wonder

If time is worth rewinding

To rewrite the past
ryn Oct 2017
Dusting off the dirt
from my shoes well worn.

They've travelled far
and had tasted all manners
of earth.

Soles now parched,
and leather all beaten.

Eyes laced close,
scuffs and tears
crying for a mend.

Tongue lolled limp,
dislocated and misplaced.

These shoes,
they beg for a life
much different.

But these feet
knows and wants
the only ones
that fit.
ryn Oct 2017
This time I have,
is but a gift.

Meant to heal
broken skin
and fractured bone.

But I realise
that there's more...

•••

What if,
repairing physical damage
is but a facet of
unanticipated tribulation?

What about...
Shattered thoughts?
Disjointed ideals?
Misplaced hopes?
Askewed trajectories?

•••

Maybe...
This time too is meant
to get my stars in alignment.

But right now there just aren't any...
ryn Oct 2017
The rage that surged...

The coal in the furnace that
drove heated words.

The years before had converged
and all it needed was a mere
little pin-*****...

To blow this situation
wide open...
To usher the birth of
a broken fist.
ryn Oct 2017
.
I dream of the night

That I'd sprout new wings

I'd then take to the sky

In search of new things


I'd flap them hard

I'd crest over the moon

I'd map out the stars

I'd claim the boon


But the wings, feathers they shed

More till first sun's beam

I'd falter back into this shell

Till it's time for a new night's dream


.
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