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The music of insanity
plays its song inside of me
The snare does snap and
The crashes crash
Inside the mind of me
The hi hat goes tss tss
And the ride says ting ting
Inside the mind of me
The tom drums role
And bass drum booms
Inside the mind of me

Inside of my chaotic mind they ring
With the hateful opposite of silence
The music of insanity does sing

If you ever ask if I am mad I will
Surely hear ding ding ding!
Just a poem about feeling like I'm going nuts and all the crazy stuff going on in my head all the time.
"And for whom did I whine?"
Self absorbed and stagnant;
who plead innocence,
who plead incoherence,
yet awake and lingered still;

Averting moments flew,
begrudging bonded through.
A madness inept
of things that cures,
for the last bit of bliss.

"To whom shall I whine?"
Prying eyes, pulling threads:
the endless collateral of depravity.

Will you see me and my faults?
A never-ending reject,
peerless and trapped,
with word that bound,
of thing should be
and things would be;

All it takes
is just a small step forward;
yet I levitate
and dream away.
On a ridge by the ocean, the dragon respires.
Hide rugged as the coastline, against him the eons crash like waves.
Legend enchants the seabreeze, an inbreath to a shimmering trance.
Before the incandescent glow sparks like innocence into a fire.
The crystal-eyed call this Hollywood.
I discovered you there, costumed in flames, as the discharged smoke became your disguise.
Together, we performed as if we were in the dark.
Scorching exhales fogged your glasses and stifled my voice.
They say, “When you are mad, you see nothing”.  

All saints watched us in the dark this time.
Camera lenses covered your eyes and captured the revellers.
Tides ****** my mind and erased the crime.
Until they told me that I was on fire.
Misted glasses repelled a kaleidoscope of your sublime.
So, from the stake, I rasped for nothing more than an ashen grey.

Orbs burning, you grow blind, but see the truth.
My gilded urn haunted you, gold’s sharp sting.
Fairy-dust spells your name, always sparkling.
Old glasses and lapsed cinders don’t brand you.
Only your frame in my pillows would do.
I gaze into your eyes; am I dreaming?
They say, “When you are mad you see nothing.”
But madness is what you chose to see through.
And you saw blue in eyes I thought were grey
With iridescence glowing from your face.
You tasted darker than the fruits I stole.
And I’m the secret that you won’t betray,
Fused to your body with a slumber’s lace.
See through me! For my heart beats to your soul.
This is my first poem I've published here! It's a love poem inspired by fantasy/fairy-tales and how they make you feel. Really hope you enjoy!
The fool, plays tricks on himself,
Knotting his head over branches of a riveting kumbuk,
Dancing over the hopping line between truth and superstition,
Bartering with the bard for his wit and contradiction of concentrated diction, to display his friction,
Over Colosseum hipping corpus collosum

For a fool forgets to mind his breath,
Watching the counting seconds go by in the succession of time, one coming after another.
The next illusion of discontinuity through fluidity,
Trapping a held moment in breath of no flow.
Failing to follow the proverbial advice in don't hold thy breath, let it go in the exhale.

The fool wants nothing, needs something,
but cannot decide to come down on one thing,
starting point of beginning a thin kings event.

Drifting like clouds taken by the wind,
Along the axis of rotating rocks piled on stones.

Dancing about his madness found in prancing around his non compliance with no alliance of self consolidated foundations for aesthetic apprehension,
With apparitions of mind forming matter burning embers for the toxic putrid smoke of dragons breath,
Locked in melancholic disdain of not needing, but ease of occupation ******* on the elder wands death by cigarette stick.
the demise of tom riddle's incline.
Terra Levez Oct 18
I thought I loved madness
The freedom it gave me
That was before I met u
Darling, ur schemes for me are too much to take for my gullible, stupid, trusting heart. For my sake, for the first time, I'm done.
Zacharias Oct 14
Fireflies in mason jars are a travesty.

Why do we cage
the hopeful?
the seekers of a lover's bounty
so devout to their pursuit
that they shine among the night
inspiring summer dreams
and romantic scenes

but it is these lovers' lot
that will bring them to the meadows
where a girl in pigtails and overalls
can catch them

where her dreams
of reaching the stars
requires
only
the container of strawberry jam
from yesterday morning,
which wasn't quite empty
until pigtails
showed up.

With glass net in hand
she'll capture her prey,
and while her dreams
are fulfilled for a moment,
it passes.

Pigtails will leave,
and fireflies,
fireflies are left
in glasses.
How awful the world is!
How creepy the self is!
How weird she is !
SHE can no longer breeze
How savage humanity is!
Where she lives ,
She is not what she is!
Emily Oct 12
I find myself in
tongue-tied love bug madness,
where eyes close without thought.

because

in spring blossoms form on
willow trees and my nose
begins to itch--
but I like it anyways

and if the night sky turned purple
in the moonlight, I know it would be
because I was traveling on a shooting star to you

and to your silver caresses in white sheets with
goosebumps mimicking the endorphins
coursing like dolphins in a wake.

If only the Gods could see us.
Who said creation was hard? There's
butterflies created in my stomach,

and I know that I want to fly but
I am only a paper crane
on a paper moon
with a false flight.
another draft....
Elena Mustafa Sep 30
As i lie
In my bed
I think of the
Days events
And other past items
Then i hear a tear
As if someone ripping fabric
The fabric
My personality
As it split into twob
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