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sadnspicy0 Jul 15
x
Born in a cyber age
of this global disruption,
"What's your hobby?", - you'll ask.
I'll reply: "Self-destruction."
It's been a while, lol
Riin Lai Apr 7
Meteors are made of three components
Iron, nickel and silicates
You are made of something simpler
Sea salt, angst and
Tenderness

Yet my fingers always fall short
Of reaching you
But if you did ever let me caress the space
Between us
Not just in our lips

You’d come crashing down
Exploding in a kaleidoscope of flames
Orange and silver sparks flying
And I would still hold on
Even if you take me with you.
Zack Ripley Feb 7
"I'm not going to win.
So why should I even try?"
That's what you've been telling yourself so when the bullies try to hurt you, you won't cry.
I've been down that road
a couple times.
Told myself a thousand lies.
Felt my soul die
a little more every time.
Then one day,
someone showed me the way.
When I looked to see
where I'd come from,
I saw a sign with instructions.
It said "this way to self destruction."
Jason Oct 2020
_______________

Bewitched by the charming graces of my private hell

Honesty, leave me be, that I should never kiss and tell


Soul to the winds, body to the flames

Salvation is ash, destruction a game


Spirit starving, though gorging be

Whether passion, love, or ecstasy


Only eyes am I

No hands to grasp the things I see


Only prayers am I

Never to reach the powers that be


On bliss' wings I soar upon high

A slobbering slave of darkening sky


Mind for fire, heart for dust

My remains trapped in a body in lust


The master plans the subjects scheme

The circle of life, the cruelest theme


Only eyes am I

No way to catch the tears that fall


Only now am I

Too late to save one from the fate of all


At the end of my rope I dangle and twist

Should I climb for the top or cease to exist?


Reason and sorrow to sweetest wits end,

Ignorance and wisdom dance, twist, and bend.


Grey rains fall and tired eyes swell

Never again to kiss or to tell
© 1997 Jason R. Michie All Rights Reserved
starstrike Jan 6
I crave self destruction
I crave bleeding veins
And sleepless nights spent in a fit of craze
Mascara smeared
And fresh white scars
Like a flag
Betray the heart

I crave desperation
I crave a hollowed syringe
And the feeling in your stomach standing on the edge of a bridge
One false move
One small slip
And there you go
Lost to the abyss

I crave contamination
I crave a stranger’s touch
And crave to readily welcome just as much
Both in romance and rivalry
Biting lips
Or clashing fists
Teeth sinking into skin
Tongues grazing wrists

I crave pain
I crave adrenaline
Knowing the mistress, Danger
Making love to her
But I can’t seem to find her here
So I search in the bottles
I search with my knuckles against the walls
With metal on my thighs
And poisonous, addicting, burning lies

I crave
And I search
And I crave
And I search
And I climb and climb
And ride the high
Of flirting with Danger
My, oh my
But it’s been a while now since she’s flipped my switch
‘Careful, now,’ she whispers
And at last I lose my grip
verus Nov 2020
waltzing along
our beloved song

I used to be
quite better at this,

didn't intend to step on your feet,
you didn't intend to care about me.

and when the music stops,
will you say a prayer

for the sake of a soul remnant,

for the sake of a no longer living
man that believed
that dance with the dead
was the cure for his pain?
(what a habit. I'm still unsure how to tag these.)
Steve Parker Aug 2020
Too much life runs through my veins.  A very poison in itself.
Lost and confused I turn my own sharp anger and hatred to my chest.  
Ready to cut forth my beating empty heart.  
If my chest were a cannon, and my heart were shot,
   I would fire my very soul upon thee,
              loaded with unfathomable love
                     and primed with bitter contempt
Rolloroberson Oct 2020
She kept her heart encased in glass
  Or elegantly displayed
     On a moldy old canvass
   For callers by of gilded
      Or passing note

Wrinkled skirt crumpled in the
corner of the hardwood floor
poised to take the stand
and testify about the madness
and the lines of demarcation,
    The hollow harrowing haunting
     harbringer of the haughtiness
     that once served her so well;

I thought I spotted her reflection
in a magazine,
soot stained pages outlining
the continental shifts in her veracity
and the keloid cracks
running along the base of her foundation
a wrinkled old romance novel
in today’s latest fashion,
pretension the wayward child of passion
In a new relationship that seems to be going too well, that moment when you look for the cracks in your lover’s story
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