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wordsmith Sep 23
we roll sevens on one dice
pull prayer into practice

i breathe out

tip scales in my favour
weigh you up and find you lacking
what are you looking for here?
what do you hope to find within these cracked walls?

you may glow green-blue in the dark
but you are not a beacon to be followed
tracing back your trail through orange-tipped trees is an endless trek
mobius strip folding in over itself.
you can keep your concept of infinity
can chew it up and spit it out
stain your teeth red-brown
insults taste like rust and your ****** teeth will forever brand you a skill-less liar

brackish blood falls from lips
it tastes like windowsill water
basil and monkshood flourish in your absence
dirt covered toes trip over sentences unsaid
the way you speak forever engraved into stone heartbeats
silence is overrun in stairwells
we sprint
looping over

and over

and over


breaking bones and boundaries
we splinter reality
topple from triangle to paradox
plunge headfirst no fear off penrose
step forward
face judge
face jury
face executioner

and fall

we are soulmates in red string
tie our nooses perfect twins
crimson ribbon woven to wrist
are handcuffed to our destiny
braid fabric into hair

pull back

tie silk bows over bruises

step forward

fists up
dance a fighters circle around neck
pull chains tighter
silver laced necklace burns like iron
are schrodinger's soulmates
locked away
we both are and are not
skin touching searing hot and frostbite
each conversation is a silent seance

you can speak only to the dead in your shadow
to the skeleton in your closet
and the ghosts scratched under half moon hands

pulling paradox into practicality
hands tear from crimson chain
drip acid from tongue and watch skin corrode
teeth crack in absence of metal

she does not pull the trigger
i will bite the bullet anyway
its infectious, addictive, alive at last at 3am

it tastes like lavender and lemon peel
a bittersweet pill rattling on porcelain lies
brass bullet casings coat open nerves
leave broken teeth braced for a blow that never connects

i will watch as bruises bloom and x-rays break
lead aprons and graphite scars
my history etched onto skin and scalp
a crown of dried blood and static rests on weary head
rust flaking onto shaking fingers

watch as iron crown runs

watch as your blood runs

so you

you can wear your stolen crown of thorns proudly
you consider yourself god

so act like it
lowercase + useless punctuation intended.
a flowery ******* to the girl who ruined all i could have been
clever Aug 19
saw you facing God in spite,
saw your face and got inspired
much less walking on water
people see what they want to see
and maybe it’s a weakness you’ve grown out of
maybe it’s a past you’ve shed like second skin
people will hold on to things you’ve let go of
so you’ve got to love yourself
enough to make up for the ones who spite you
enough to tell yourself you’ve done a good job
when your head hits the pillow at night
people will say things intended to cut you and leave you with open wounds
you are not the mistakes you’ve made-
do not let them convince you otherwise
Nolan Willett May 16
All was given to
Me and I threw it away
To spite existence
McKala Hanes Apr 9
I have a nasty habit of enduring out of spite

I endure in spite of my own lust for eternal sleep

Exasperated, I think;
“That’s just so like me, isn’t it?”
tw: vague suicidal ideation
if i wanted to hurt you
                        i would feed you my poetry,
                                                         then wean you off of it.
                                         Out of spite.
The curtains twitch... in my street,
They pretend to be rich... in my street,
The gossips thrive... in my street,
But they’re barely alive... in my street,

The big cars come and go,
They all reap what they sow,
They pretend and they trick,
Atmosphere is so thick,
I’m the **** of their jokes,
And they pinch, and they poke,
But they fail to agree,
That I see what I see,
What I see, is the truth,
I will shout from the roof,
They can’t judge me at all,
For I’ve seen where they crawl,
but my lips they stay tight,
For there will come a night,
When they will see me see,
And they’ll understand me,

People talk... in my street,
People stalk... in my street,
A massive game... in my street,
We’re all the same... in my street..
I watch people a lot.. not in a creepy way, but I observe, and people love to gossip, and judge, but they forget, they are just the same as the rest of us, only, they, don’t SEE it!
(C) [email protected] 29 /03/2019
anna Mar 27
I only caught glimpses of his eyes while he spoke

words, lacerating this pneuma

and stuffing superlatives in this innermost being.

the wisdom I believed I possessed tumbled like Jericho

and I could hear the audacious screams of the Israelites

like blood torrents in arteries.

it’s a shame, I thought. He had a good heart.

pomegranate pnumbras flicker like fire behind my eyelids

and it burns there, too.

can I leave?

a smooth muscle ***** pumps blood and serotonin through platelets back into arteries

and I hungrily drink this newfound oxygen.

and all around the splintered cage

I saw orange slice smiles and white yacht clouds drifting through a blue ocean.

but a quick slip up pulled me away

and the faceless effigy stood pristine with metaphorical eyes,

of which I only caught a glimpse.
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