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Thomas Steyer Jul 2021
She saw a dentist who was a sadist thru and thru.
Looks bad, he said, shall we see what I can do?
With a tremble in her voice she asked, will it hurt?
Maybe so, he grinned, but only if I wannit to.
It is as if a wave of tranquility passed over me this morning. Still numb. However, the strenuous longing to feel has dissipated. The wounds have be temporarily cauterized. No empty pain lingers in the darkness like a phantom menace. I felt nothing before, But I knew I was in pain. Now the nothingness consumes any lingering obscure thoughts. I am the hollow man; Such a fragile shell I carry on burden bones. But tis a pleasant day indeed. Thunder storms barrage the sky in open warfare and ominous tear drops soak the battlefield. For once I am not the fool weeping alone; The world takes my place, my pain, my suffering, and I revel in the warmth of it's tears as any good sadist does.
Poetic pros I write in my journal that I reveal to the world in snippets.
Morgan Vail Apr 2021
I love you.
Since I saw the cracks in your bookshelf,
Your graceful hair intertwined with your shoulders,
The way you throw your head back and laugh.
If you are Juliet, I am death,
And I wonder how the snake felt,
Knowing he allowed Eve the apple.
I should hold my forked tongue,
For I know you would care for no,
Walking nervous breakdown.
Who could?
But this agonized black mass,
Writhing inside me, where my heart should be,
Barely living, barely dying.
Masquerading passion, good will.
I just need you to shoot it.
Morgan Vail Apr 2021
Shattered glass on marble sand,
I feel heat spread on my palm.
Like tiger stripes to the beat of a,
Foreboding distant death psalm.
Enforcement of an oblivious executioner,
Unloving of a careful dawn.
My heart, my soul, my love isn't for me,
It's for something I can't act upon.
The guy with the deep red hair
Feasting on blood red wine
To drown his bleeding red heart
In sorrow with his red rimmed eyes,

Sulking in pure rusty despair
With his red rusted hair
As his rusted feelings push through air
For which he received a rusted affection to bear

Full of projections of hollow care
The games he played, it wasn't fair
Hearts he sets on fire like his flaming hair Warming his cold heart with empty promises and hollow dares
The Blood Red Prince on his Blood Red Throne.
Empire Apr 2020
Do you ever just have those moments
When your heart turns black and rots
Your mind gets high on the angst
The suffering is all you need
And you want it... more of it
Listen to gruesome, terrible songs
Sounds of screaming and pain
Loss and grief wrap you like a blanket
It hurts but you’re at home
It’s dangerous but you feel safe
And then the moments come more often
Blurring into days... weeks...
Until you’ve lived in your agony for months
Begging for something more
Tell me a story
Tell me of death and tragedy
Tell me of self destruction
It’s addicting to me
M Grant Teague Dec 2019
I seem to grow in ever direction,
With new branches sprouting from every pore
They do not need the sun
To be true,
They grow faster in its absence.
My photosynthesis feeds so greedily,
It consumes light.
Yet the feast never stops, continues
With invisible source.
Light is the appetizer,
Smiles the side
With darkness bringing
Endless entrees.
Crunch!
Crack!
Snap!
Snacking smacks fill the empty air.
My skin crawls as my mold,
Spreads and consumes.
My own movement sickens me.
I am disease.
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