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rhyme weaver Dec 5
I thought I could do it; God knows I’ve been trying.
But now I’m not so sure. I’ll just keep hiding it and lying.

I’m not doing well—I haven’t been since I can remember.
I’m trying, I promise that I am; but I don’t think I’m going to make it past December.

It’s easier for me to be strong for other people,
But when it comes to myself, I’m less resilient.
You see, I still don’t love myself enough; isn’t that just brilliant?

I’ve made big strides on the path of self-love,
But I still have such a long way to go.
How does one keep going when it feels like they’re always lost, always searching for home?

I’ve always found comfort in the heart of another person.
You see, they become my home, and when they leave, my self-love only worsens.

I need to find comfort within myself and start looking more inward.
But that’s easier said than done, especially when you want to be done with moving forward.

I don’t want to give up, but then again, yes, I do.
I’m so tired of everything, and honestly, the only thing that was keeping me going was you.

But I’ll never tell you that because, God, it would **** me if you knew.
I know the guilt would eat you alive, and that’s the last thing I want to do.
You don’t need any more on your plate, especially not in the volumes that I have.

Yeah, I know everyone has baggage, but mine is a storm.
A weight too heavy, a shape that doesn’t conform.
It’s chaos wrapped in silence, a burden I can’t share,
A never-ending ache that lingers in the air.

So I’ll carry it alone, no matter how it burns,
And shield you from the darkness with every twist and turn.
You’ve got enough to handle; you don’t need my despair,
I’ll lock it all away—it’s mine alone to bear.

So instead, you’ll never know, because I just couldn’t live with myself if you ever found out.
I have never loved someone more than I love you—that’s the truth, without a doubt.

And even if I decide to leave this earth because the pain just won’t stop,
I don’t want you to ever realize or notice.
There’s more to life than waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I don’t know how many times I can say it, but I just want you to be filled with joy.
So, you’ll never find out just how badly I’m struggling; I’ll just keep pretending and act coy.

You see, I can be a good actress; I put on a ******* good show.
So even if you stop hearing from me, I just want to remind you one last time, because you deserve to know:
I love you with every ounce of my being, and God, I hope you know that’s true.
I’ve honestly never loved anybody as much as I love you.

Our souls are connected—I can feel it; it’s true.
If I can’t be the one to love you, I just hope she does a decent job too.

I love you. I’m sorry. I’ll try to hang on for as long as I can.
But I can no longer promise that I’ll stay; please just know I’ve never met a better man.

I hope she makes you happy and that your love she’ll never outgrow.
You deserve the world, my love. I hope you understand and know.
And that’ll be the last thing you hear from me after I decide it’s time to let go.
12.5.24
aesthenne Aug 2023
her body shines
and twinkles
under the moonlight.

her hair cascades
over the sheets
and into oblivion.

her hands bring forth
a beautiful melody
of pleasure
derived from pain.

back arching like the sunset
over the sparkling sea--

"come before me."
to lady aphrodite. 🕊🥀
TR3F1LD Jul 2023
one person said: "peace is nothing but illusion
all I want is retribution"
[from "Pure Power" by Zardonic]
that's something I can identify with, which is why
I decided to write this heap of lines
————————————————————————————————
on a shooting range in a boondock la[ɛ]nd
with gloves pU̲t on; sta[ɛ]nd
in front of an autocratic ruler chained
by his hands to two moola safes'
[greed]
handles looking way
like an old-fangled car directing wheel
[steering wheel]
have this die-hard fool restrained
so that he, more or less, is still
I'm not a scho[ɑ]lar who can wave
around a degree in the medics field
but it's obvi this high-hat dO̲U̲chebag's plagued
with megalomania in a neglected condition
but there's a dreadfully effectual treatment
and he'll get it like villains
quite a gruesome fate
is looming upon this power-befuddled ****
like darkened clouds that, beyo[ɑ]nd a doubt, are soon to rain
["dark end"]
like waveriders, he's go[ʌ]nna serve
["surf"]
as a punchbag for I'm in quite a mood to raze
gonna wI̲nd up as nada short
of a ****** loon today
like Battinson, clepe me Vengeance
but I'm more something like the Zorro-looking caped
anti-autocratic vigila[ɛ]nte
from the Norsefire-ruled UK
[V from "V For Vendetta"]
meets someone whose work field's tormenting
like victimizers who pertain
to LE in one tsar-sized off-putting state
[law enforcement]
you know, the one that's go[ɑ]t a putrid trait
of always posing as a side you shouldn't blame (it's all the West!)
(now, let's go back to the foul autocrat)
like a jerky boss that you disdain
I give this no[ɑ]b a cool g'day
by douching him from a bo[ɑ]ttle full of straight-
-fro[ʌ]m-a-cooler H2O; just a fE̲w secs break
for him, & once it's U̲p, I ****** this base
being fro[ʌ]m a stE̲wpot great
with **[ɑ]t-a## noodles aimed
into this hU̲mbug's stupid face
[the "hang noodles on the ears" expression]
pepper it with some ground 7-po[ɑ]t to boost the taste
feel how I, like a husband who betrayed
his devoted, yet testy, wife, get rudely gazed
at, racked, beda[ɛ]mned (by who?)
by food-lacking men from Africla[ɛ]nd
[Africa]
ask him: "is the provided food okay?"
zero gratitU̲de displayed
all that comes from this sno[ɑ]t's bazoo's complaint
but nO̲[ɑ]t that I'm surprised
a typical pro[ɑ]sperous gobshite
the tack priorly applied
I do the same with a bucket full of maroonish paint
[autocrats have blood on their hands, hence "maroonish paint"]
like that music producer famed for dull future bass
I put on his viscous head a **** bucket
[Marshmello]
whereafter pick a wedge up & drum it
[golf wedge]
and, like a heap, I barely get started
[worn-out car]
like an unprepped passenger on an insane car ride
with no seat restraints applied
he's about to have a way hard time
I'm a cosmetic surgeon that operates part-time
fix his blamed jawline in just twain sharp swipes
with a steel bat, then yield some keen slaps
that meet his kneecaps until the knees snap
like the Baba Yaga hitman detached
from his peaceful life by someone ge[ɪ]tting him mad
[John Wick]
get his nails removed
which is pretty much the same that you do
when you repaper a room
[wall nails]
having perforated his fingertips
I ge[ɪ]t 'em plastered
a few minutes later, I rip them things
off 'kin/sim. to wax strips
he gets his phA̲[eɪ]lanxes smitten with
a freaking ratchet
[rathet wrench]
pro[ɑ]b'ly, he regrets
that his bo[ɑ]dy's still not dead
pick U̲p a pistol, set
a drum-like clip in, get
it cocked, then shoot lead around his silhouette
till the clip has zero ammunition left
seems like this once co[ɑ]cky piece of dreck
has gotten his khaki chinos wet
but if I've go[ɑ]t him in a sweat
like a summer jo[ɑ]gger being dressed
in venthole-deficient threads
for this brash dude, there's bad news
like me when I write some sick bloodshed
sadly for him, I've not finished yet (uh-uh)
like a runner that's go[ɑ]t some distance left
to complete, & it's not as dark as things can get
'cause, like the heroine o[ʌ]f M. Streep in "Death
Becomes Her" after falling fro[ʌ]m that string of steps
I've got a somewhat twisted head
[Madeline Ashton; the staircase fall scene]
so consider this as an insult-to-inju[—]ry sesh
grab a brace of scissors
for garden mainte[—]nance; Richard
Trager comes into play; begin ta
amputate his fingers; operate at leisure
disarticulate 'em I̲nto twenty eight **** pieces
cauterizing the remains with illuminated cI̲gars
fling into his piggish face some tissues
and some pain relievers
tell this nazissistic patient "hE̲A̲l up"
["****" in the sense of being "severely intolerant or dictatorial"]
let him relax for eighteen minutes
over the spa[ɛ]n of whI̲ch I put on play "La Chica
Rockabilly" & some other ro[ɑ]ckabilly
jams to make the whole vibe a mite less grisly
like an NA brown bear that is gravely injured
["mightless grizzly"; North American]
(as, in fact, this tragic-fated bleeder)
whereafter spray him with a
["wither"]
can of gas & make his dicta—
—torial a## go ablaze akin ta
a straw-fabricated figure
during gala days at the late of winter
[Maslenitsa effigy]
telling this piece of trash "in case you wI̲[ɪ]nd up
in somewhat of Hades, give a
warm shalom to the infamous ******"
consider this autocratic ****
a sugar daddy's skirt
'cause he's gotten what he was asking for
————————————————————————————————
oh, & one thing more to say: the
nullified, like ruler's presiding terms, dictator
was known among some as "toilet sprayer"
like a scuttered urinator
"punishment of an autocrat" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Ren Sturgis Jul 2022
I dream of leathered men, I dream of you, touching me, ******* me, loving me.
Hold me in your clutch, dominate me, make me yours.
Your voice like velvet, and your body like diamond.
Cut me, mark me, I am your canvas.
I am your art.
The cruelest artist with a delicate touch.
I beg of you.
I whimper in pleasure.
More please.
"Be a good boy for me" "yes sir" on my knees. Complete submission.
Take me to space.
Make me forget all that came before you.
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