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aviisevil Sep 11
nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forests breath
with death ripe

just a day in paradise,
that's all i pray.

no fool for a price
nor a herd for a prize

malfunctioning slight
chocked with parasites

just a day in paradise,
if it wasn't for today.

spoiled thoughts
and foiled spite

caught then boxed
with no air to bite

lost and left,
kept for the nights

in transparent red
herein painted quiet

just a day in paradise,
for the one who pays.

in a stranger's head
with debt of dice

where heaven lays
and the dead shall rise

seven solemn days
that'll never come twice

mourning for prey
by a mornings pride

just a day in paradise,
for a day in paradise

if it wasn't for today.

kissed by the fire
shut with wire

no word nor desire
and made in ice

broken prism's charm
in arms of a lover
born away and in white

doused in hope
and not a dime to pay
no dream nor life

just a day in paradise,
and it'll never go away.

where beauty slays
and inferno hides

dante's meal
and a mountains might

where a valley bleeds
from a pelters diet

melting the stones
and people alike

just a day in paradise,
that's all there's to say.

whence scars bleed
opened far wide

and the hour sleeps
in fear and fright

where words fail
to tell and describe

rotten and stale
fighting the lights

just a day in paradise,
for the one who stayed.

nor a fox not wise
with claws and pipes

a forest's breath
with death ripe

just a day in paradise,
and that's all i pray.
what shall you be in paradise?
Bellissima May 27
Through creaking doors
walk my ideas of people.
Cracked frames, bent and sullen.
Groaning hinges, bones
bruised and rusted.
ok okay Apr 15
Ivory skin
True goth within

   Don't hold your grin boy
   It will get stuck in the wind

Suicidal love letters
To explain my final sin

   Boy says your life is nothing
   And loners should play their violin

As I looked down from the bridge sullenly
I realized losers never win
**** the people who put you down.
Allen James Apr 5
There goes the rain,
Her gentle lover,
The only one,
Who's ever touched her,
From head to toe,
And deep inside,
In shapeless arms,
She comes alive.
Ankit Dubey Mar 23
I don't really know what exactly is hurting me. There are few people and few things that have gone bad, but I can't pick a person and say that I blame you. I have tried to ask myself, but all I get is that I am sad, for some reason. I get irritated by small things. I don't enjoy the things I used to enjoy earlier. I don't smile the way I used to smile. I feel that something is missing. Some part of me is lost somewhere. Some feelings of mine are lying bruised within my soul. I feel a darkness lurking inside me, but I sparkle in bouts of desperate attempts at happiness. It's almost as if I am screaming for help, without making any noise.

And then sometimes, I blame myself for being so emotional about the things other people just don't even care about. I hate myself for having a heart that is too pure in this soulless world. I have done so much for others. So when I find myself standing alone, fighting my own **** battle, I do feel betrayed by all those people. I feel used. I feel like ****. And then I just want to say goodbye to all those people. You know, never talk to them, delete their numbers, or block them. I get almost ready to do it, but then I stop. I don't know why I stop. Maybe, I still want to give them a chance. Or maybe, I just want to see how much more they can hurt me.

I deserve better. I deserved more love, care, affection, and loyalty. And that's why it hurts when people just change. They still smile. They are still happy and proud. No trace of shame on their double fake face. They are still beaming as some sort of proud "pure soul", ah! the irony of black souled vultures. And to be honest, I just want to end this all. I want to trace all my pain and punch it dead with some reality-check and self-love. I mean, who wants to stay sad for people who don't even care? So, maybe soon, they won't be able to find me. Soon, the doors of my world will be shut on them, forever. Soon, they won't even exist in my universe. And, I mean all of them. You know, I don't need anyone. I am just so tired of this ******* and drama. Just, go away. I want to live, happy and alone. I am done with people.

What of the young Donna
Reclining with book in hand
A sigh circling her lips
A glaze greeting her gaze
Her thoughts bored of days
Endless days
Depthless days
Where every voice and all actions
Are slowly stewed
In rich stock of routine
And people arrive, bowls in hand
Forming long, bending lines
Like the Depressions of old
Where defeat, distrust, damage
Linger and lay
Within the sleepless eyes of many
Inspired by the painting A Decadent Girl by
Ramon Casas
sushii Jan 28
On a day such as this,
I return from my tiring work.
On a day such as this,
I return to this dull world.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

The thinning beats are composed of children's pitter-patter,
And sullen ***** dish clatter.
The tuneless melody speaks of pointless meanings,
And empty greetings.

I hear it once more--
The droning, and the grayness it explores.

I feel it coming--
The humming, and the slight drumming...

I hear it one more time--
Or so I think,
For the part of me that understands
Has already died.
white tiger-striped
underbelly, 5-3 eyes spitting
hot chiding ectoplasm with
saber-tooth gaping pessimistic dross
in fear-thinking ear lobes mercilessly
and the inescapable 8 inch slit in
between 5 pound bags of translucent fat.
kneeling down in the soot of ruination
with hands tied in the gypsum torso
the heart carved out
like purple pumpkins,
the ****** hair cinched
by the fire of India and
the head twisted and
pulled off like a chicken
by a Mexican rancher,
scratching in the
unchanging dust
and running aimlessly
in all directions with
no ventilation amongst
these strong cement walls.
the druids of dry spirits
coaxing out the dejection
of the toothpaste epitome,
encapsulated and ******,
with emotional charged
derangement on inner tubes
down the burning rivers
of the gullet strait,
only to regurgitate
barges of empathy
upward through the
injured pharynx and
cutting waves of melancholic
to seep through porous skin
and roll off the bitten tongue
like a silver pinball of
pointless blubbering to
any pair of snapdragon ears
that were willing to listen
but as the burning tears roll
down the succulent cheeks like
broken thermometers of poetry,
spittle hung from lip and chin
onto the circling senseless pulpit
and the obsidian curtains of clarity
parted east and west
like Moses untangling
Roman corkscrew ******,
the candlefat burned brightly
in throbbing pink,
the unappetizing laundry room pizza
tasted like hot needles of preeminence
and the x-rayed skeletal lifeforce
fornicated in rustbrown apathy
while the stars shot across
the blue nights like birds of fire
in our desecrated minds.
A Simillacrum May 2018
I thought everything would change

without any good input one day

I thought human responsibility

was ascending and making money

to support the tower steel and stone

to leave forgotten lives below

wishing and wanting that

same thing

Where the pyramid remains

built tip to base
have you heard that 3-d?
what a somber wail.
i found this old data plug
with an entire library of music still intact.
turns out there were
at a time
cartoon people who
looked like monkeys
and had a band
get this
The Monkeys.

What do you mean you think the file's corrupted?
Everything seems just fine to me.
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