Vismaiy Jun 5

Flowers, they rot
Flowers wilt, decay,
Smell and look pretty
For bees to shit on them.

Look at the banana flower,
'Tis neither presentable nor sweet
'Tis dull and dead
Yet, it is fertilized.

Provides bananas to eat
Fills a hungry gut
Fulfills a social purpose
What does a pretty flower do?

Sit on its branch
Like a whore, trying;
Desperately, to attract customers
To blow out their steam!

And they say "Flowers are beautiful!"
No, flowers are uncouth bitches,
All they do is,
Die and ROT.

cait-cait Feb 13

Don't make me laugh
sack of meat-/rotting
in the city's
sun... don't claim you
by a boy who never
because it's so easy to

this is about someone's ignorance: you cannot justify your hatred. i drink a lot of water and have depression. also i want to die.
Kerstin Martinez Dec 2016

Forgive me
As I fall to pieces at your feet
My pores rotting
A stench so foul
Can you feel my heart
Reach now, Keep it
As I fall away
Can you feel my broken
My bones won't heal
My heart won't mend
All is a puzzle
Can you smell the rotting
My flesh at your feet
If looks could kill, yours did
Can you hear the silence
I scream without sound
I don't know what to do
I tear at my throat, trying to tell you what's inside
As tears fall
A lake deep enough to swim
My rotting body falls
Through the dark abyss
Can you feel my heart
Miles apart
Can we journey through the land far apart
I'm begging on my knees
Can we heal what's falling to pieces

“Love is like a reckless twin; I’m giving in.”
Scandipop on the radio,
The scent of marijuana hanging heavy in the air;
The fruits of my love lie wasted,
Rotting away,
Overripe and burdensome,
And I drink deeply from the sweet pools of wine
That gather where the fruits were bruised,
Either by their lesser fall,
Or their greater failure,
Having been inspected by most,
And rejected by all.

Inspired by Mads Langer's 'Lonely Street.'

Marked explicit just in case.

In perpetual solitude I linger in the shadows.
Fragmented in which pieces to me are unbeknownst... unrecognisable.

Am I who I was or am I nothing but a memory of what I once were? Something other than me. A corrupted part of my insanity.

Maybe I am nothing more than lifeless flesh, rotting in perpetual solitude.

Beleif Aug 2016

The air is full of dust.
The chairs are rotting, creaking planks of wood.
The roof can cave in, given the right moment to expose the sun–
The heating sun that beats upon this sickly place.

My family's faces were eaten alive by termites, infesting the photo frames,
And a flicker of the lights puts this sleeping place to bed,
Where it belongs had I the right ideas inside my head.

If I was any wiser I would leave at once without a twist of neck.
I would run away and maybe change my name.
I'd never think of looking back...

Yet here I am unwise. The floor is rubbish, never rubbed or rinsed,
And populated by more wallpaper than the walls.
From the bathroom leaks a familiar yet appauling smell.

My family's faces were eaten, deceased, by maggots.
My dad drowned in the bathtub, and my brother in the sink.
My mother lifeless on the bed because she was confused for steak.
My uncle always said to me that luxury is for the saved.
As for the rest there is no other place to go,
Because my home is at the grave.

Where is your home?
Farah Mar 2016

so many bodies lie
rotting and I’m sick
many hands digging
holes in the ground
and I’m sick. I’m sick
and tired.
I think of how you
used to be, and the
weight of the world
squeezes my neck
till my heart splatters
like red paint
on an empty canvas.
I’m sick, and I let you
carve abandonment
into my flesh.
I’m sick and I want to
sleep where the bodies
don’t sleep.


Here I lay in emotional waste
Left with null but sence to taste
All the decay inside this place
And fast enough I cannot haste..

A light illumination, mirage on the wall
My mind is playing tricks, and I cant fight them all
Out from under all, this turmoil I must crawl
For I have not the strength, to be victor of this brawl

You rain your words upon me, I am shelterless
The wounds you have caused me.. I will not forget
But whats this inside the darkness? Still yet drawing breath..
Its the only thing you left me
Eternal nothingness.

Thanks for all the decay.
k a Nov 2015

we're alive but
our souls are
rotting in hell

Aspartame Nov 2015

are my aspirations your nightmares?
are they chemically derived from neurons?
are they a curse from
the birds of babel?
(ready or not)
do they seep out of the fabric of my mind? do they break you from the inside out?
are they dead or is that just you rotting?
(here i come.)

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