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Everything's wrong
I need to talk to someone but no one is around
Its all coming back worse than before
I can't escape it
Not for a second
I try to sleep but when I close my eyes everything is even more vivid
The blood, the thoughts, the memories
No one to talk to for a couple of days
Nothing's right
Carrillo Dec 2015
We the people
Created the definition of insanity
Continuously birthing another thesis to "protect" all of humanity
Meaningless validation to destroy and mutilate such a beautiful creation in order to achieve an unreachable reflection
I hate to do this again and again
But this world has became a fantasy of pretend
We the people
Slaughtered the human race
We walk from point A to B
Motivated by revenge, trying to fill in an empty space
We the people
Are not people
We are skin that's been injected by something lethal
A combination of confusion and being "equal"
Why can't we just remain simple
celey Jul 2015
flipping the pages of the last book you made me read makes me feel like i've been suffering dyslexia for some time now
so hauntingly familiar
not in any way foreign to me
a photo falls so delicately onto my stained rug
the photo i used as a bookmark
the photo of us i've kept hidden
and forgotten
the photo of you handing a couple dollars
to somebody not in the camera's view
the photo with me beside you
gratefully smiling
as i munch on a waffle
the waffle i spit out right after
the photo that reminds me of the horrid taste of that waffle
it's taste almost as bad as what i feel for you
Cattie Unicorn Apr 2015
Knock, knock, knock.
My old front door creaked.
I went to the window to take a peak.
My hands shivering with fright, oh who could it be on the
horrible night?
As I hesitantly look out the window glare,
a puppy's whimper I hear.
Whimper, whimper, crying tears of red blood.
What ever is coming from his mouth?
Red, red indeed.
Perhaps it is an animal in need?
It's ears and tail point to the floor,
frightful sight I have to endure.
Once again, the creak of my door.
A bald man, staring back at me.
His smile so wide and his eyes as well,
full of hatred. I can tell.
His hands stained with dark red,
what have I done?
I scream and I shout,
I plead and I pout.
For such a man and dog have come to do what?
Everything turns black.
The man's smile shifts into a chuckle,
and I'm afraid this story might be my last.
Red, spread across the floor.
My blood, I can see no more.
** This is not a true story! Do not be alarmed, for pure entertainment **
Dallas Phoenix Apr 2015
the bottle's like a violin,
screaming demons in my stomach,
a cyborg forging information as lunch,
purging an urge for self-destruction,
my outer shell's cold but the circuits a storm,
of electrical database lifespan into megabytes of ****,
see death is a story,
and my analogies are allegories,
mourning after the goriest morning is NOT worth storing,

blank pages turn into mythical dissipation,
and with that loud speaker you'd think he could pen down imagination,

a midnight gig playing with cosmic instrumentation,
for the humanoid race place your conscious on your invitation,
Matthew Harlovic Nov 2014
As horrid as it seems,
society cannot exist without inequality.

©  Matthew Harlovic
Q Aug 2014
Silhouettes
Shadows
Sights, dancing before my eyes
Voices
Noise, grazing my ear canals
Touch
A subtle whisper
Breath on my neck
Shivers.
Inhale
Exhale
Eyes finding eyes
Gazes held
Hands
Feeling, always feeling
Too close
For comfort
Closer still
Perfect
-ly horrid.
Cause to
My demise

 *s.q.
Elaenor Aisling May 2014
I picked my poison blindfolded.
Fumbling like Jane Grey
at the execution block.
Grabbed the jar closest,
cool glass with death beneath.
It was the slowest.
Death by leeches,
who **** the spirit dry
and replace it
with lead.
You wandered the room.
Entered through the doorway.
Fluently floating, and timidly tracing.
Your temporal frame, your transient shape.
Your obsession with perfection and your warm cordial face.

I noticed bite marks on your arms and legs,
they were red and freshly laid.
You shouldn't go where you aren't safe.
The world can be a horrid place.

When I looked into your eyes,
They were dead and  they were cloudy.
I haven't seen or heard a thing scream dread so loudly.
I can see it in your soul, I can see in your consonance.
And if this what your future is, I don't want a part of it.
Martin Narrod May 2014
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******,
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
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