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Victors grab spoils of
War waged, and won; The fallen
Claim nothing but rest.
Poetic T Sep 1
I will rest when death
kisses
        My soul.


And my windows,
    Cease to look

up a view.


All will be quite within,
          As I am gone,


and my shell no longer fruitful,
               Spoils


over time.
Gabriel burnS Jun 2017
sometimes you enter the maw of the beast;
severed heads lie around still watching,
and you march forth into the bowels of hell
fighting off fears, horrors and demons
own and foreign
for the ultimate prize
taking home the devil
CommonStory Sep 2014
I need motivation

A constant reminder to keep moving

Because I'm down

And I can't talk

Or atleast form the words I need to express

What's killing my unconscious happiness

I think my mind is getting writers block

I seem to be getting stressed

Random nights I wake to the dizzy heavy breathing consistently

How taxing it is to hold up 110lbs eye lids

I can fight it

Only for awhile

It seems

Though I get this iron sour bitter taste

Is this what I get for what seems to be a triumph in my perspective

Then victors truly get the spoils

To give everything

Wheres my toxic escape

Just for a moment

That moment I need to resist

That's what I told myself

I just want to breakdown

Every etched piece of me

I want to crumble

Just for a little while

I'll pick up the pieces while no one is watching

I promise

Please
© copyright Matthew Marvier Donald
Noah A Baker Apr 2014
See, it’s more of a… hypnosis,
A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it.
Like a whisk into a different parallel world
Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact,
kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor.
Not just any ballroom floor though.
No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night
a masterpiece that cannot be replicated,
and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement
I wish to step there.

However, I am a tad ungraceful
and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers.
So I might just impersonate one
and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes
hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement
of this hypnotic, starry world.

Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss
With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets
Looking for something, anything,
to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late,
Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate.

But, if you want, you can accompany me
and we can scuba dive together
into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder
And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis.
And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty
and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something?
With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty
but we have to open it
because that’s the secret in the treasure.
To open it.
And the contents are the spoils.
*Open it.

— The End —