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Kennedy Taylor Dec 2014
Your mouth is made of metal,
Your kisses taste like gold.
Your lies they strike like bullets,
But I enjoy the holes.

Your mouth is made of metal,
Your truths begin to rust.
Your blade edge may be jagged,
But I love the way it cuts.

Your mouth is made of metal,
Your words feel like steel.
Your smile strikes like a hammer,
But I’ll still be your anvil.
Poetic T Dec 2014
I look upon the empty frame
But I see, it speaks behind,
Behind me. In front there is no
Mirror,
Reflection,
Hair
Is on end, I breath, but I am exhaling.
What expelled.
I feel whispers in each ear,
Voice,
Voices,
Words
"Telling me what I must"
Must, must, must.
I see what whispers, the reflection
That's not meant to be.
Me
I,
voices
Muttered upon myself.
"The wood Is thirst"
"It shows yourself as meant to be"
"Reflection of that not seen"
I scream, but whispers are expelled
As I walk away.
I find in front of this mirror less frame,
Old nails
Protruded,
Extended,
Overhanging
Points upon flesh.
"I find my self laying flat,"
Lacerations as I see a reflection
"In this Mirror less frame"
It is me laughing as I bleed upon wood,
I see that which took me,
It was me that **fed the wood...
its what we don't see that can reflect on us most
firexscape Oct 2014
Me
Jagged edges, you were sharp sharp sharp
Baby, have you ever seen me look so dark?
I love you, don't you mind mind mind
**** me
Is love blind?
Kali Apr 2014
Everything I thought makes life beautiful

Makes the grass greener the sky bluer
 Makes the darkness recede for a while
 Until

Everything crashes down

And makes shadows crawl

Makes whispers call your names with 
Dead eyes in the mirror

Then

You go back

Too sad to function

Too tired to speak

Too hungry too weak

Then everything shines again

And you wake up to the lights

Sunlight

Shaking and happy and incoherent
Oblivious of your demise

The hold it’s got on your soul

It’s everything

Tragedy and despair

You can’t speak from loss

You cry

And go find everything exactly where it was

And escape through frames

Trying to find a distorted illusion of
What once was

Less than yesterday

Five days ago

Everything in pieces nothing consuming you 

Run two steps ahead of the pain
Inducing the chemical confusion

The twitches the bones protruding

The stutter the asthma the all

Over

Pain.
Everything is okay

This pain has broken through my wall of glass

Awake unblinking

Hurt sinking 

Lost alone thinking

I’m alone

Losing everything

Ruined 

Falling to pieces

Pieces getting crushed into dust

And going to my sinuses

I am nothing.
Broken. Cold. Dying. 

I am addiction.
I am

An escapist, a *******, a mass linguist, pacifist and anarchist nihilist and pessimist

A walking contradiction

Full of contrition

Contraband addiction
When I die

Don’t let them all know I

Left my mind on a frame

Or a card

Too much shame. 
But this is too hard.
I lost my everything when I met everything that makes me lost.
This was written after five days without sleep, without food, and in the midst of the worst depression ever felt. I found it this evening, I had forgotten I wrote it, three weeks ago, to the day.

— The End —