Em 4h
A sunflower drowned in lavender,
A sky as dark as poison.
An infinite Purgatory sitting as a cat,
poised in a position.
Ready to lunge,
ready to pounce,
on those less worthy,
those worth more,
in a world with no worth anymore.
No solution to the war.
Broken glass,
blood covered leaves,
diamonds for eyes,
rivers that bleed.
Names on notes,
forgotten journals,
lilies afloat.
A purr in the wilderness,
a whir in her mind,
gears churning,
creatures lurking,
in a world lost in Time.
When ever I set myself a deadline,

                                                    Just a glance of you reverts my mind

sometimes at a very last minute just a glance can make you change your mind, making you believe  may be *** has some different plans for us in store which surely are beyond our capacity to comprehend.
It's said that life Is but a short time but I got to thinking back to the age
when I was about eight years old and seem so long ago
It's as If I'm looking back on a completely different world the sixty-five years
I've lived seem more a million
I can't relate to that child as being me strange though this may seem so strange to those of you who perhaps will
these thoughts I have or maybe you will relate and feel the same
Strange thought while passing the day
In this world full of strange men
Their weary eyes clouded with grief
It windows through their empty souls
As they their sorrowful soul seek light outside
But they cannot find the light in me,
For me, myself were finding light in this dark place
Wearing their deceitful smiles, it hung across their faces
In this world full of strange men
a swollen finger rising to the occasion
rising to the size of a grape, purple
bloated like a stuffed pocket or pregnant chicken
green oozing out like the slime i got from the museum and the smell of rubber and plastic following me in my sleep

a ghost by the window slipping into my thumb and biting pain
the numb pressure of muscle tissue ripping
the phantom claws out and shouts that women are debris
swamps with lost metal buried at the bottom if you dig long enough the days become one and their hair consumes you whole

i argue with the shadow, threaten that this bruise will burst and blood with meet alcohol, an antibiotic fever dream
it stares at me defiant, like a giant pulverizing a village
my fingers wrestle and before the abscess can pop
the fingerprints unravel until i am nothing but thread
a coil at the bottom of the floor
a dress to be sewn in a bedroom
the shadow stand up and fits her bones into the fibers, a bride in white
the thumb hurts no more
a gross anatomy dissection
Who knew dying would taste so **** good today.
Every bite I take I am slowly being eaten away.
The only way to stay alive is to die eventually anyway.
All little things add up over time.

Drowning in every drop of water,
Eaten alive by every human flower,
Tasting the flavor of fetus matter,
All little things add up over time.

There is something in the waters,
Eating your sons and daughters
out of the **** of heartless mothers.
All little things add up over time.
Wyatt Jan 11
When I think about life
I begin to think about death.
It's a strange relationship I've got.
Not a veteran at all, I just
say words I don't mean to
hide the ones that define me
in this moment of all moments.
It's toxic, to say the least.

But I can't leave it with that?
Is this just another entry?
My diary has thousands of mental pages
yet every chapter reads the same.
What's a book with only one chapter?
Describing what's never changing?
I wonder why nothing's changing?
It could be mood, I admit.
My angle keeps me out of trouble
but it also shelters me from this
dangerous world that can give
birth to the greatest riches.
I speak in theories and live in failure,
a basket-case with excuses well-tailored
to fit under my sleeve in case I may need to
refer to them in moments of difficulty.

Weird looks, nervous twitches.
It's natural how unnatural I am.
How I think, it's fragile.
How I express, I'm reserved.
I make reservations to freak out
because I don't want a panic attack
to come on me without notice.
Catch me off-guard, I miss it.
In school I couldn't predict it.
Some days I was a king and others
I reverted back to the peasant.
Living a double-life in a way,
but partial victories are still
detailed and decorated with losing.
It's the only head-space I can fit into,
always helping everyone else
yet I'm still full of my own issues.
There's a wrinkle in my plans,
I'm too old-school with my strategy.
Keep quiet, head down, talk low,
get through the day and go home.
Never be happy, but relish the thought.
Always rinse and repeat before I'm caught.

Normal girls won't hit on me 'cause
I've got bigger fish in my bowl.
Depression is a mature woman
and she seduces me much better
than any other could.
Whispering words, keeping me in bed.
Beautifully she does what she does best.
She doesn't keep her hands to herself
as she binds my own back.
The nights are always long.
The love is one-sided always.
She loves to smother me
and I would love to get away.
It's abusive.

When I think about life
I begin to think about death.
If only when I think about death
I would be brought back to life.
A life that wants to die
is no longer called a life.
That's why sometimes
when I talk to myself
I speak in past-tense.
It's a strange relationship I've got.
It's toxic, to say the least.
Red Brush Jan 10
It's quite strange but nice
How it's odd and precise.

You can gun with a gun,
And a run can long run.

And an 'S' can turn laughter
To nothing short of slaughter.

If you're hot, they will drool
But be warm, and stay cool.

Head off with your head up
Face it head on, so heads up!

It is a deep and rich mine
For all to mine, yet mine.
c Jan 10
It’s not that I’m sad, per se,
It’s that I’m not anything at all
I cannot feel happiness.
I can experience it but I know
That it will not last forever.
That is the case with all things.
Life is temporary and beautiful,
Life given and taken away
In the same breath.
In some strange way
I’ve known what happy feels like
I’ve just been wishing I knew
How to feel it now.
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