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Stella Dec 2017
I don't know if I want it to linger
Or to fog up as this subtle reminder
But all I can believe in now
Is my fear of no more

By chance my body had to be turned
So I could watch this horrific demonstration
So I could be a useless witness
Thrown away by my helpless position,
and with no way of knowing their condition

Today, I have a fresh scar
Today, I'm afraid to start
Real life experience
Blossom Dec 2017
How morbidly cruel we humans are
To have deemed the cherry red rose
Slashed of its life and rid of its thorns
As the purest symbol of love
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
A calm winter night.

The street lights at the window sill did not seem to embrace my room as I was seated beyond my desk.

The unlit screen still seemed bright for when it carved its image in my eyes,
The glass display shattering in millions of shards piercing through my paper skull.

An etymology of communication, the relation of electrical currents through my crevasses,
The empty eyesockets in my skull ridden with blood, pus and ink, oozing out of my empty casket on what remained of the abandoned framework in the chair, corroded to unidentifiable bits of gore

A steaming pile of putrid mass desecrating the serenity of the chamber,
decorating the walls with mould and algae

A murky portrait indeed.

Tangling vines carress the oxidated heaps of sticks and bones, they feel it, they long for it
Mutilating the sheer remains of contorted steel and ivory as the ink chants its final tune.
It feels unfinished
Vyiirt'aan Nov 2017
Faded lights trace the visage
In fateful slumber on their grave
Invalidation, desecration
Barren raindrops on the concave
Surface of the hollow cask

These bludgeoned faces know no mercy
Have defied and defiled entities
The sacred deity in eternity
And find their eternal rest

And thus spoke the wingweaver
Who descended from beyond
Decayed faces, deteriorating
A putrid stench from their mouth

And through plague smeared teeth
He hissed to humanity
Beyond his barren grave
Yet he lived on
Joe Beau Nov 2017
My will to live fell asleep
A cat in the sunshine
The harsh light of truth:
I am dead.
Did this in twenty seconds.
A H J Oct 2017
I didn't mean to
       Throw myself into the dark hole.
But I has succumbed
           myself into an ocean
       mystique ocean, it looks like an ocean
                                       curiousity

Fall, I fell and fell and fell
           I got ****** in
         Vaccummed,
                   I thought I only fell
But bit by bit,
           My body got eaten up
      Bit by bit, black by black
I had been eaten by these noir things.

So hollow. So empty.
                  Can't help
But peer more into this thing
            I fell, going to be trapped soon
    So my eyes followed down
        Gazing, gazing, perhaps m e t o o,
   was gazed by the seemingly eye looking darkness below
              Abyss, down below
I am going to be eaten anyways.
        So why not know what those eyes are.
Watching  me, is it crawling
                   crawling, maybe I'm going to crawl myself too later
       In that dark void, no surface void
                                       There's probably nothing, or more.
"and if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." - Friedrich Nietzsche
Fumbletongue Oct 2017
The room
sideways
Clutter
Dust
Carpet smells of *****
Eyes close
Room goes black
Pause
Eyes open
Light is dimmer now
Fuzzier
Naked
Curve of the shoulder
A question mark
Lost
Askew
Her body shuts down
Spit dribbles
Eyes dry
Breath Crawls
like a turtle
Blood pools around her head
A halo of purity
serenity
Time has come
Camila Narita Oct 2017
It's color is Black.
It never stops. Ever.
It'll take everyone without regret.
You thought you'd be together forever.
You were wrong.
It sings it's deathly song. Taking everyone you know.
Taking everyone's lives without a second glance.
You have no chance up against the deadly reaper.
It gets nearer and nearer with each passing day.
But it won't take you.
But it will break you.
Until you're broken and done.
This is no monster or boogy man.
This is Death.
I don't know why I wrote this, I was seriously just in class and got an idea. I guess it's with all the people that have passed away in my family I guess.
Laurel Leaves Oct 2017
You think by loving someone, you can speak on behalf of them, completely understand them but, I was with someone for five years who looked straight through me.
I can’t even recognize my own reflection in the mirror most days and I poke and **** at my skin to make sure it’s real almost daily. I want to displace the sensation that one day, I will have this all figured out, or one day, I will have someone who accepts the moments I can’t seem to get out of bed, but not endorse it. I want to stop living for an eventually, so I shove present tense down my throat.
I want to know that when I do finally go out, I can outlive this body in some form, that the human population can remember me for something more than my mania, but for the vulnerable moments when I spoke out against the delusion that there is a good or bad, there is a way to live and a way to not live. I hope that the people who loved me can take away the times when I sat patiently, biting onto my lip and holding them through their own fears and awakenings, see the way I brought validation to their own neurosis. I hope they all see me as the love I tried to display and the times I stubbornly kept going when the final blinking seconds on the tile floor sounded so much safer than my own mind.

I hope I can outlive this body. I hope I can leave something that doesn’t sting. I hope that I don’t just fall into the same societal traps as the general population and that my illnesses won’t be the definition of me, I hope I can continue to exist in spite of them.
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