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I write best when depressed.
When the world is a King and I a jest,
I boldly seize my madness and
Scream at the ceiling fan.

I write best when caressed.
When the love is a Queen and I a dream,
I boldly seize my madness and
Scream at my browning tan.

I write best when obsessed.
When the world is obscene and I a modest screen,
I boldly seize my madness and
Scream at your 20th beer can.


β€”
M. 7/29/21 @ 12:00 a.m.
:)
Mikko Mar 15
It leaves its handprints on all that I see,
and tarnishes all I touch with poison
Feeds depression like a maggot, to deepen
this cursed mire that is my place to be
It snatches my thoughts away from all glee,
and I wish I would vanish, be hidden
And alone long for a secret Eden,
for a decade it has tormented me

It told me: ”You will never have a hand
to hold, nor starry eyes to madly love
Alone you'll stay, you're too broken, cautious
Your spirit forever burns with my brand,
there will be no olive branch, no sweet dove”
Thus spoke the cold, dead void called Loneliness
Written sometime in October 2016 after an all-encompassing, amazingly crushing sensation of loneliness.
Steven Dec 2020
let me not dwell on things i lost, forgot.
who gains from memories of memories fought?
Nonah Dec 2020
The wind rushes by
With an unseen push
Of an untouched sound
In the dark December sky

The trees speak to me
In the cold raking air
Branches outstretched
Like fingers through hair

Yet I do not understand
What it is they try to say
But I find littered leaves
Evidence, found in day

The wind yet pushes by
A pressure on the soul
To whisper long lost secrets
Trapped in a currents pull
Allesha Eman Oct 2020
I found that the cracks in my skin began to heal whenever the moonlight lingered by my window,
during the nights when I let the wind bring in its cooling remedies.

I would sit still, lost in my head,  
With a storm brewing in my swollen heart,
Ruminating as I opened my eyes,  
And I watched the dainty fabric of my curtains as they danced with the cold breeze.
Slowly sunlight leaked into the sky as birds sang their delicate songs,

And I found my restlessness fast asleep on my palms.
For a moment, time was standing still and I was...

healing.
lua May 2020
the sun goes by, and it sets
as we lie and ruminate
in empty rooms inside our heads
and the days come late
while the nights draw near
we run in circles on the hands of fate
as we eat our fears
one by one
the moon goes by, and it sets
the days are gone
nothing but whispered threats
but we draw blood
and it drips
on soil and mud
during crashed road trips
to a destination that dies
as we grow close
and it splits,
divides
crossroads.
J J Nov 2019
Life is madness,
But try not to get caught
to the trap of getting too easily
                             astonished.
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
My thoughts are on a merry go round,
churning my mind in perpetual cycles
till it has been named chaos.

A certain memory rings in my ear,
deafening out the world;
as it climbs and slithers down my spine
echoing through the hollow shell I've become.
Cole Maxwell Apr 2019
There's a time in, dare I say,
Every man's life where he must
Choose between what is wrong
And what is not going to help.
He must be able to see that
What is right will not be the correct answer;
What is wrong will be the path to go.
For in these times, a man will realize that
What he seeks is not for him to obtain,
But acknowledge it as a mirage on the horizon,
Some distance away,
On a course that would seal his fate.
Lost at sea is the man who obtains what he seeks,
For his worth he keeps in his shirt pocket,
Limited by the darkness that surrounds it.
He knows not the detriment that lurks below
As he drowns in his own greed,
Betrayed by the hands of his own god.
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