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I'm a sociopathic narcissist with suicidal tendencies
I never had no friend disease
I only see in enemy's
And eat these evil entities for energy
And hope they will be the end of me  
But something lives inside of me
And controls everything I'm meant to be mentally
Says I'm free from empathy and sympathy
With out no remedy
Now I'm pretty sure there's something your not telling me
Something that's propelling me to therapy
And never ever can it let me be
Simpley Ill sell my dignity for equality
Take bear s* but no goldly locks wants to swallow me
But you can follow me
It how it has to be
Drastically rapidly pulling apart your anatomy.
Deep in the game but only catch birds
Like a mathematically **** dastardly
Only FRACTIONLY
Cry
There are people who don't cry
Either
they don't want to cry
or
They have no more tears to shed.
Your tears are more valuable than you think
cupid Nov 8
i think i'm finally a ghost
a broken spirit wandering aimlessly in their own hurt
it's a mess im a mess now
im losing my mind
i'm late everywhere and i swear i'm descending into madness
it hurts so much that i can't hurt anymore
i just keep laughing and acting happy
im scared that if i let that act down i'll cry again

death would’ve been better than this romeo
after he left and i could no longer turn to him i turned to writing to him
excerts from estranged love letters 1
InsertPenName Oct 26
Missing you is like that pain that is as disheartening as it a symbol of living
As long as we bleed, we live
Missing you is like poison in the air we can't stop breathing
Missing you is like listening to addictive melody putting us to grave
The sane's music is on repeat trying to block out the memory that is your voice
Missing you is like gazing at the moon: always in sight but never within reach
Missing you is that cliche in the story we fall prey to
Now we pray that you, maybe miss us a little too...
Now we're missing you, while we drink voices to fill our head with
Missing you is like that music ringing, bringing about...
Delicious Ruin to this mind
Even though our ears bleed from the sound—
Missing you is like that music that is never loud enough..
Welcome to my mind, my sanctuary, my prison,

you'll meet a thousand "Me" and you won't be glad to meet 'em...

Come over here look at the perfect "me", he hasn't misbehaved thus he's enjoying in a garden of eden...

Let me show you the "me" who lives in past, he was wounded bad and those wounds are his museum...

Now gaze past that museum, you'll see two shadows, brawling in their self made colosseum...

Follow me I'll show you my dungeon, where I've chained the "me" who had become a "DEMON"...

There's also prison above that dungeon where I torture the "me" who had done treason

He was too kind for his own good that's the only reason why I beat 'em

There's also a place filled with graves of fallen "me" who'll never wake and i call that place a broken mausoleum...

Now you may wonder how we run this kingdom, We elect the one with the most income...

But Pity the "me" who attemted to be free, when he's the one who lost that freedom;

This is no longer his sanctuary, he's no longer the king of this kingdom...
How can you even escape from yourself?
The green light has frozen over.

See that haunted house,
how its windows
flicker desperately
in their attempt at survival,
how every lampshade droops
under the sublime gravity
of its glassy tears,
how each blackened bulb
crystallizes then shatters
like the constellation-mottled
pupils of the starry-eyed--
of any
optimist
dreamer
lover
bright-young-thing.

Nomadic phantoms float along
the pin-***** stalagmites
of the ceiling in ringlets of
emerald shadow.

Surely,
dawn will break,
(unconventionally.
tragically.)
The sun itself shall bow to ruin;
and, in a remarkably quiet gesture,
it will fizzle out
like a can of cherry cola
that's gone stale,
like humanity's own taste
for the light
(and its growing appetite
for the darkness).

Still,
we drink on--
in wait of the rush,
indulging in the hope
that somewhere
in this dying
expanse of universe,
there is someone
who will love us
for the tipsy,
poetic souls we are.
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.come/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience)
I question wether heaven has gates
and if the Devil is their master.
If his fingertips has the power
to leave me out of paradise.
If he will turn me down
for what my mind has made me do.
Is there a reason they tell me to **** you
Was there a reason for this madness,
this chaos in my head.
I think there is but
will the Devil let me in?
name Oct 30
taste the whip
ache just like a woman
but you break just like a girl
different colors made of tears
oui c'est la folie
chain reaction and mutation
it's in the air for you and me
welt rises
writingsolo Oct 29
All I need is 3 drinks when I'm with my 0 friends,
and when I'm higher than cloud 9 I'll try my luck mixing
at least 5 kinds of pills. There will be 0 deaths tonight,
but 7 of us still try.
There will be 3 hookups with drunk friends, but 3
girls will learn the price of blind trust.
She's taken by 5 of them, and the other 6 of us
begin to drop.

Maybe someone should call for help because
we're all mad here, high on I don't know
what else.
White Light Oct 29
... We were surrounded by the blue sky,
by the mountains and the white lights.
... I was looking at you like no one else has ever done,
and that was good enough,
to make me forget were I came from.
... I felt something strange in my heart,
like if someone had pressed the button "Re-Start".
That made me feel different,
as if my ****** had been commited.
I have seen him only once and he is blocked in my mind.
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