Look at me now but don't let me go
We both know we stooped too low;
And when our souls hurt and our flesh is aching
Are you surprised our love is breaking?

I didn't want to be here
But I just thought you'd be nearer
I don't want to fight
But all I do is out of spite.

I'm not meant to build you up
I'm only here to build my art
And I'll be your teammate
When you don't love me just a little too late.

And what's the love for a soul you thought you had
As a friend when our hearts are broken and sad
If it's now out of reach
And in the contract there's been a breach?

Legs around your waist,
Your face against my face
Isn’t it great to feel loved again?

To be killed for and died for
And everheld and cherished
And life to feel as dreamy as death again.

Isn’t it great to outwait the doubts
And second-thoughts.
On and on, til too far-gone to realise when

I went too far.
And that’s none of your concern
It never was,
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel better
when I was a little less different.
Do you feel safe at all when I’m not there?
—
Alone again and -worse, still-
Without you.
As I sat down outside,
Between two worlds
Waiting desperately to be home again;
Two separate people spat at me from moving cars
And I only laughed because they missed.

someone who, age-wise, reached beyo[ɑ]nd
20 (quite beyond), but this extremist co[ɑ]n—
—science of a wicked armed
comic book vigilante keeps my mind thinking some—
—times, like: "wish I get to meet someO̲ne
who'd revise this inco[ɑ]m—petent wight into one
surpassing assassin"
[not a hitman, big ******* difference]
so there's a solid why in this ***
existence
["hell's waking up every ******* day & not even knowing why you're here"]
————————————————————————————————
but also 'cause some-thing I wa[ɑ]nt is o[ɑ]bscene mob ****
and tsars with their ***-lickers done
away with, since these swines live off wro[ɑ]ngs (a heap of wro[ɑ]ngs)
that's a base they get their filthy lives built upo[ɑ]n
get your vice-ridden hides
out of your private planes & whips
or your ******* ace retreats
like someone on an invitation list
come in sight & taste some lead
as if it were a plated dish
["come inside"; also, "sight" in the sense of "gun sight"]
or you may get iced, like a dra[ɛ]nk in heat
in ways way more creative, ******
the kind excited by pre-RPG "AC"/Jo̲hn Wick fight sh#t
[3A "Assassin's Creed" games, which have wicked counter kills & coups de grâce]
so it's art of violence, like that **[ɑ]stile rhyme piece
in which I have a despo[ɑ]tic swine fixed (to death)
["punishment of an autocrat"]
or like that wicked bass-musique-led symphonia
made by We Are Magonia
speaking re[eɪ] musique, for a scene in that way, my pick
like a vis. representation de—
—picting me, would be a midtempo-bass-like beat
["my pic."]
hold up, wait a bit
like a meal-serving guy the da[ɛ]maged phiz
of which is like: "PA received"
["waiter beat"; "PA" - "physical assault"]
I was saying stuff like "you may wind up slain by means
way more creative in plA̲ce of ju[ɪ]st
being shot down", like a ba[ɛ]nkrupt biz
["shut down"]
how 'bout a grave blood leak
initiated with an a[ɛ]mple streak
of slashes & stabs with a serriform saber, which
would be followed by
your knees & necks perforated with
bolts from a ******* crossbow? (nice)
my imagination tends to go crazy sick
when thoughts of mine get occupied
with elimination sh#t

you spoke with your back turned
like nothing was wrong
the kettle sat screaming
its blistering song

your eyes crack with thunder
I don’t look away.
I taste every stormcloud
and swallow the rain

you asked if I loved you
then smirked at the floor
i said it too slowly,
you moved for the door

We fought in the hallway,
your knuckles went red.
You hit without blinking
and meant what you said.

you find every fracture
then press where it stings
You say, “it’s devotion,”
and tighten your strings.

You lean in, now limping,
your voice raw and rough.
We clutch like survivors
who'd suffered enough.

Your hands then remember
what you never confessed,
you kiss where you hurt me
and ask for the rest.

but still, when you’re shaking,
and all fury’s gone,
I gather your pieces
and whisper a song

I stitched up the silence
you gave me to keep
and rocked us together
til sorrow found sleep

We curled in the ash
what didn’t survive,
and found even ruin
leaves something alive.

im so angry
my emptiness
my loneliness
my everything
all my emotions
boil down to rage

why must i have such high expectations
of myself, and why must other have
such high expectations of me?
im not built for constant brain tearing,
splitting, spearing forwards, to stab the wall
with the sharp edges of my frazzled mind

im a live wire
fizzling against the ground
begging, reeling, praying
for someone to touch it
to spread its angry, fizzing electricity
through someones heart.

as i continue down this path
drinking and smoking and pushing myself
to death
the teenage dream
my rage will push me to new heights
pull me up to great things
just to spite those who wronged me.

my throat is stabbed with my own dagger
my chest rise and fall slower
my eyes are covered with grey clouds
my brain though numb begins to shout
blood flows with spite
through blood I will continue to fight

Unyielding, raging pride and spite,
A death-grip on dignity,
The indomitable will
To get off his knees and
Punch anyone who touched him
Because it hurt to move.
I get it. I've felt that grief.
So I looked him in the eye and said;
You want to fight?
Fight the floor. Fight gravity.
Get up. I know you can
Because everyone cries,
Everyone ****** themselves,
Swears and sweats and
Lashes out in panic.
That's okay. I've seen worse.
Grab my hand, don't let go.
You're going to fight gravity
And you're going to win.

Who invited the instigators?
I didn't,
Did you?
They don't work,
They don't write,
Unless it's a comment made out of spite.
Social medias were built to throw around blame,
If you like spreading rumors, may I suggest Facebook?
Wherever you do it,
Don't do it here,
You're one poem,
Can't be a line attacking people you've never met.
I'm sick of all the strays,
If you come here, come for art,
Come to write.

to ones wronged or irked by some stupid bullsh#t
and who may have an itch to do some ruin—
—ation, e.g., shoot some bullets
all the imprudent bullies
and corrupt ****** contributing to in—
—justice will do as ones to subject to a punishment
[mafias & agents of authoritarian regimes]
and if you are one of 'em
a few words regarding your funeral
[if there will be one]
hope it will be at odds with the usual
it should be a carnival to the bone
whether or not that is suitable

if words are rounds, then I̲'m gonna send
a bullet storm on sordid dictators
being, along with ro[ɑ]tten regimes
of theirs, a bunch of derm inflammations
on the body of the world; disgruntled & mean
I'm your personal Gray Hunt
[Grayson "Gray" Hunt who's a playable protagonist of the "Bulletstorm" game]
I'ma, like someO̲ne who was in—
—volved in spetsnaz & forcibly breaks ones
imprisoned for co[ɑ]nscience from clinks
one-two-three, then the bloodshed begins
[prisoners of conscience; "one to free"]
having heard "no smoking", harsh P—ayne
turned & smack—t Wayne with a "hopeless" ash-tray
["smoking" in the sense of "killing"; Max Payne & Bruce Wayne]
[Batman's "no killing" rule, which is hopeless, as well as Max's existence]
["ane" (one), "twain" (two), "trey" (three)]
————————————————————————————————
it would be nothing short of mendacious
to say I don't wish y'all misfortunate states of
affairs, like divorces & break-ups (crack!)
yeah, all the worst to dictators
hopefully, y'all ****** jerks will be faced with
infernal damnation
for every singular person paraded
civilly through streets in support of good changes
and been delivered brute force in repayment
people in jails & clinks mauled
and denied of med help, disinfo
unjustified wars, liquidations
of those subverting a heinous sociopol. course undertaken
of course, fabrications when it's time fO̲r legal cases
(and elections, of course)
and nowadays, you've got Y̲O̲U̲r pesky agents
working on breaking
the web like Bourne which is Jason (Webb, David)
here come my warm salutations
to that stupid web regulator
that serves the dang Craymlin (got it?)
like your walking shyotka tualetnaya, take a
["toilet brush" in Russian]
[another sobriquet fitting the rhyme scheme: "toilet predator"]
hike; Y̲O̲U̲r limitations
hitting media insubmissive ta
the sick regI̲me which y'all sustain by dint of digital
censorship, to individuals with a set of principles
and views akin/sim. to mine, are like pork to unwave[—]ring
[the word's supposed to be read/pronounced as "unwayvring"]
Muslims; in other words, we evade 'em
(what are you gonna do about it?)
as you were told, better block Y̲O̲U̲r **** BHs
you subservient A-licks
["buttholes"; "a##-lickers"]
————————————————————————————————
now, let's revert to the arch black hats
when you get a just backlash
or, like drinks allowed for thO̲se under eighteen
minor shots, y'all schmucks get sore, 'kin to nates
["shots for minors"]
of someone earned a good lacing
fO̲r misbehaving (just like y'all)
get yourself some butthurt-mitigative
stuff, you scO̲rn-ridden vain ******
you're worthless like an ****** absorbed medication
to you procured a gunshot gorge perforation
but first you'd get your arms
and legs shot in its hinge joint parts
[that is, elbows & knees]
that's some mean **** marks—
—manship; as you may've gathered
like a workforce undertaken
reaping, you depraved dastards
with your regimes are something I'm sU̲re not okay with
minus them paid guarders
with shoulder marks worn & you're Swayze
for when your brainwa[ɑ]shers
and other order-maintaining
tools no longer make masses
conform to the mainstream
acts of force are your last resort
like a semi-island-based palace
[sounds familiar]
housing some gorgeous gals craving
to have some unchaste practice
["lust resort"]
some of those going po[ɑ]liticians or power-wielders
are by then already sordid? like forgery traders
not the type to think so
that's humankind's horrible nature
evolved to a high degree, though
still animals, thus Earth's, in a way, a
jumbo jungle; got a shade sidetracked
like a train, my bad; I'ma explain, like that
Malaysian Boeing Ukraine skies'd had (ex-plane)
[had had]
before it got razed 'kin/sim.
to the outrage of folks storming a place which
a c#cks#cking usurper is based in
["raised"]
the earlier stated
"BFWID"; once you are no more animated
like a cartoon paused, the verdict is plain 'kin/sim.
to a suit that is mourning-related
a torrid vacation, metaphorically saying
yet no point in packing Y̲O̲U̲r freaking raiment
since Y̲O̲U̲r destination's nothing short of pure Hades (if there is)
["sins"]
in fact, unlike some of you, I'm irreligious, but
it doesn't mean I'm cold to medieval stuff
like a hedonistic brush with a chick replete with lust
in this realm, there may be a wicked **[ɑ]t
time for you; akin/sim. to witches stuck
to those stakes, you may end up lit as f#ck
like after a cig. with **** you are
in the garden of the post-en—lightenment time going
["thyme"]
which, in fact, is the reason I
["reason I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "reasoner"]
and others with opinions similar
to mine think Earth's in need of getting rid of ya
————————————————————————————————
chief authoritarian crooks worldwide
and all those contributing to their rule of vice
you know what have just come tO̲ my mind?
look, douchewads, why
don't y'all take a tiled-rooftop hike?