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I am indifferent,
Unwilling to raise myself up again;
I am not your man.

To distinguish bad from evil, doxa
from episteme; to agree on methods
rather than lose the run of thyself,

That we might escape this labyrinth.
The drugs still work, but I stopped caring
about exploration, intoxication, even escape.

Eventually I gave up
these old dregs
and went looking for the new ****.
I find myself dreaming of strange tides
and awesome shores. I mix some ***
and ginger, in my headphones I hear
a storm. Now everything goes dim

and I feel it. Drink is a writer's drug,
It allows one to lose their poise and swim.
Remember when we cared less and felt more.
I lost this when I yearned for a normal life, but

it is in my nature to seek this thing.
It is within me, it will rise again.
I tried to forget about a world
but the world remembered

and said:
We are lost,
We are lonely,
We are forgotten,

We are ephemeral,
We are the next gen,
We are the algorithm,
We are the new ****.
SwanMansWoMan Oct 10
I thought I knew love
I thought I understood it

But there are twists and turns
Unexpected loopholes

Like loving someone who society shuns
Who they deem as ****

But I suppose his past is what makes me love him even deeper
Made an ocean before a drop
Of water dried-up before it's mopped
A shoot before the backdrop
creative feeling before she gulped

Beauty before the beholder
or let say before he behold her
Grown before she could be older
Timid before, She is bolder

Loved, before realizing they are ****
Yet to get the love-in, but he has come
He's here, she will yet describe him as gun
Only shoots around, like he's as* god

Now, she wished what was dim was clear
Like courage coming before the fears
She hoped this affair could be fair
Like seeing the future before it appears

If only we can know Tomorrow's end from to Today's end
But Today's end is just a start
Well, will like to stay a start can just be the needed tip for the trip.
Pyrrha Jan 2020
Your angelic words wrapped with demonic intent
Wont reach me from all the way up there
Your pedestal is too high, I'm afraid I can't hear a word you say
Your godlike vocabulary can't hide that devilish motive
And for as much as you lie, you are one awful liar
That angel light of yours can't blind me anymore
I have a special pair of sunglasses now
They block out all the repugnant **** from sight
‘We all better lives,
very few of us, want
to be better people’

With the keys to immortality, I sold
my soul, the prices was cheap, walking
into church, holding Nietzsche's hand,
bursting into a ball of flames,
on the hall of fame when it comes to
pill popping, turned clean, I’m on
the wall of shame, should not be walking,
we got nothing in common, I’m a
white trash god.
K Balachandran Jul 2018
Like **** on sewer,
Dark news floats on the page;
Sick, nauseating!
Simon Woodstock Jan 2018
The sun will go down and like a vampire I awaken
I'll drink and smoke myself broke
Scream at the bartender after last round
**** IT
I needed that whiskey
like a sinner in a church
I feel the blind hellish rage ignite
I attempt to rip the bartender apart
However the bouncer's sledge hammer like fist has already kissed me on the left cheek
The next thing I know I'm laying down on the concrete
My head is lost among the wreckage of the titanic
the contents of my stomach howl in agony
After forcing myself to my feet
The rage from before returns suddenly like an absent father
My cheek was swollen and a few of my teeth felt loose
I was on top of the world from the basement
I spit blood on the concrete and begin to taunt
The bouncer to come outside
Like a lone hyena picking on a lion
I laughed drunkenly and screamed every word in the book
Finally provoked he launches out of a cannon slamming into me
I awake in a hospital bed  
Thinking only one thing
Brent Kincaid Oct 2017
John is what hookers call
Their customers in this land.
They make him feel like a king
And tell him he is grand.
They fuss over him like royalty
As long as he pays the bills.
His habits can make stomachs turn.
He’d be dead, if looks could ****.

King John, the biggest ******
To have ever worn the crown
If he were an office building
He would quickly be torn down.
Nobody ever thinks of him
In any pleasant kind of way.
If he has a need he needs filled
No freebies, he has to pay.

If there is some slimy way
To speak a simple sentence
He will choose it, and insult
With no thought of repentance.
He owes his wealth to ***** tricks
And that is just what he is.
An absolute and total waste
Of his awful father’s ****.

King John sits on his throne
Gathers soulless souls around.
He laughs at those who take his bribes;
A particularly ugly sound.
He has no conscience, so doesn’t see
How quickly his presence can pall.
He is the king of a kind of hell;
No kind of royalty at all.
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