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mae Oct 2023
A funeral is my mind.
Where former lovers
and silver-tongued liars
attend their wake.

I spare no life when I can take.

An invitation from God
is what you’d need to depart.
But there is no God to be found here,
only your grievances and faults.

Stand steadfast and ready,
my reviled lovers and liars.
You’re in my dark abyss now
and you’ve taken your final bow.

Your procession has arrived.
mae Oct 2023
We all broke our rules for someone unkind,
Lust and pretty words can make you blind.

Sometimes echoes of past mistakes will slip beyond the dark line,
Do not cling to old memories while making new ones this time.

Begin to trust that your instincts will guide you true,
Decide to choose yourself instead of letting others choose you.
mae Oct 2023
In the beginning…
I remember that once I was a calm sea
I had always let others dictate how my life should be
But thanks to you, I’ve awakened to the harsh realities
That the only person who has my best interests at heart is me

You may run your mouth, spew your hatred behind my back
Your trivial nonsense will get no rise out of me
For I am now a wrathful storm hell bent on revenge
So I bring with me the power of lightning and thunder
And with the promise of never returning
I pull you under

Now that you see who I really am
Should you test my limits once again
That will be the last time you ever see the sun
Because I am the rage you created…
And I am done.
mae Oct 2023
I am the pretty thing that lives under your house.
You left me there to rot, to be forgotten
like a flower that's never been watered and withers.
So how ironic must it be
to see a single rose bloom from my grave?

I am the pretty thing that stands next to your bed,
watching your chest rise and fall.
I bend down to whisper in your ear
and though you may have taken my voice,
the air coils and delivers my message.
Standing, I withdraw to the shadows.

I am the pretty thing whose face suddenly appears
in the dark space of your twisted mind
where you thought you buried me for good.
Gasping for breath, you wake up drenched in sweat.
You wonder if you're being irrational or going crazy.

I am the pretty thing that came back.
How lovely it is to make you insane!
You look beautiful in that straight jacket,
surrounded by alabaster walls with no windows.
It's only when you’re finally captured that you drop all pretense,
professing that it’s my blood that is forever stained on your hands.

I am now the pretty thing with a dagger in my smile.
Ninah Sep 2023
i remember my own misery
like i remember my first kiss:
it was innocent, i was nervous
and it lingered for years

even now, navigating this ocean
of happiness, i remember hunger
and i am drowning in grief

i wish i had no memories;
even that kiss turned violent,
its softness still haunts me

God, i see smiles and hear their laughter;
why does mine not sound like theirs?
i fear my pain has tainted everything
ky Jul 2023
The winds blew north
for hundreds of days,
but one day,
the winds changed.

They started blowing south.
And everything in their path
started going south as well.
Jeremy Betts Jul 2023
I wish I could wish I was more in the moment and less in the haze of a memory
Find me in a nonregulation tankless sensory deprivation simulation to deep dive into why my history grips so tightly
It's not lost on me that it feeds off of the litany of my bad energy, a never ending supply and still greedy
Can't say it's a mystery, not completely, hesitation is hard wired in on the heals of every lesson in misery
Honestly it's never a surprise, not really, the first complication to arise naturally is my own reactionary jurk of the knee
Even though that's never worked out for me, never seem to benefit any, quite the contrary actually
It's entertainment for my inner dialogue, continuously laughing menacingly as it nurtures this three-ring calamity
And I'm left to recite a sorry apology with the conviction of a hostage on VHS tape through a grainy TV
So why do I do it? Clearly it's not a chosen journey but rather some hopeless, helpless destiny
One I prayed would never find me but it was as timely as untimely could be
And now, this is me

©2023
Crow Apr 2023
the bells peal
toneless
in the hollow place
of the night

and the moon is
the cold light
of tenuous dreams
seen through
the strained fabric of
a threadbare sky

shadows of midnight words
pulled long and thin
by the weight
of expectation
sit by the road
waiting for redemption
that never comes

pallid night flowers bloom
in hidden places
adorned by a feeble glow
without scent
in their ragged flesh

words whispered by
constrained throats
are consumed

devoured by the ravening silence
blasting down
from oblivion
Achromic - Having no color
A fat man is walking,
with no boots on,
there he goes that *****,
on his great journey around.

He is staring at the reality,
from which he is away,
misery surrounds him,
and he laughs now at them.

The pain of all is a mockery,
to the fat man,
who has no boots on,
this is just typical humanity.

He has no dealing with it,
why would he be bothered,
decided just to strut,
and walk all over their dread.

Mocks them, they will not,
never ever understand,
pain of never being happy,
they only know sadness with happy.

He cherishes the mad walk,
and keeps going,
with his bare legs,
on the mud-filled path.

Women nursing children,
shouts at him,
he laughs cause he only sees,
the pain and misery awaiting.

The fat man laughs at the worker,
the toiler, a man with blisters,
what is there to bleed from,
their grit makes him hysterical.

All this noise chases him,
and he still laughs,
running on a land dry,
runs with that maniacal grin.

His feet take him to,
child with broken dreams,
men with hollow eyes,
woman with dried soul.

Did he ever see,
what he wanted,
can the fat man understand,
the true meaning of being happy.

The pain he seeks is all he sees,
he sees the horror and sorrow,
he grins and then,
goes in hysterics.

For he is the fat man,
with no boots,
he just wishes pain,
cause he loves to hate.

Oh, he just loves to hate,
all the joy in the world,
he wishes on their soul,
who has ever seen the good days.

The never-ending grief,
he wants to see, but he knows,
that this pain will also end,
and he walks away before it be.

These men, women, and children,
will get the fruits,
of their toil and care,
as they will see it to the end.

The end where is the light,
which forever shall allude this man,
this fat man who runs,
mocking and hating everything.

He never stays, he is scared,
those hopes will get hold of him,
touch his darkened soul,
and he would stop, try and see.

He just wants all to become him,
to loathe in regret, shame and greed,
await the ever-increasing sadness,
all be a part of black hole misery.
louella Dec 2022
it’s been raining for centuries
into the bottle i have put out on the porch
watching the water drizzle into its plastic casing
having knocked it over every single time i try to pick it up
i let it sit by its lonesome,
but by the time i got up that morning,
the bottle was knocked over and the water was trickling out
i buried my face in my palms
as nothing i love is permanent
not even these tears of mine
first period sad be like:

10/18/22
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