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Ilya Krivonosov Mar 2019
The President closed the post in Vologda.
There's one phone in the whole city.
On the big doors of the clinic
Boards are stuck in the fifties.

From the open windows of the hotel
The birthday girl screams.
In the shops near the station
Run by the Turks with the Vietnamese.

The traffic light hasn't worked for a while.
On him gloves clap.
Passing horse and cart.
The machine gun is under the birch.

Whether festive, or everyday,
I made my way between them.
Antifreeze, tangerine
The lantern was green and crimson.
I don’t want to be a, “Good Person”
Or rather,
Not if you have to tell me,
I’d rather die,
Then hear someone tell me I’m nice,
You’re so nice,
You’re a good guy,
Gratefully with twinges of gluttonous ego I accept,
In spite of myself,
Perhaps I’ve been groomed to act,
Act nice to be complimented,
Act as a good artisan to appease all.

Humans never cease to appall me,
With ways to be unwarrantedly wareful,
And secretly subconsciously submergent,
So I remain watchful of myself.
A Simillacrum Sep 2018
Arrested.
A Windsor knot
binds my
fickle neck
to my dour
shoulders.
Plastic ties
elegant wrists
in pair.

One question:
Head up or down?

I lied.

Another question.
Atop a question.

Am I

headed up or down?
Give me redemption
or else,
how can I ignore it?

One bedroom.
An eager clock,
minutes
from my set,
or expected
The End,
happily
leaves me to my
routine.

One question:
Head up or down?

I lied.

Another question.
Atop a question.

Am I

headed up or down?
Give me freedom
or else,
how can I ignore it?

Can I really be who I want?
Can I really be what I mean?

Will I ever solidify?
Will I ever come to?

And who will come?

(. . .)
A Simillacrum Jun 2018
Fine,
if a bitter wind blows

Fine,
if a liar arrives

on my patio
hard heart
worn
right
with the
knuckle
skin

Fine,
pressed on the razor's edge
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

Fine,
when what was once the worst
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

returns to a placid place
below,
so

a new threat may
emerge
A Simillacrum May 2018
The battery mostly empty sends less power through
the act. The art of you. The heart of you.
I've heard the drums since I was a child.
Music sent from my futures unseen,
to touch me young with destiny.
Lowest now I've ever been in the pit,
the place to which ashes descend,
I know the movie must play to the end,
but I'll send back honesty and a meager providence
sealed with well wishes and love hidden in the frames.
Best believe in watching me I know your names.
Cyber ink is always bleeding through the screen,
writing me a list of beautiful, infinite minds.
Reading it back aloud recharges my mystic energies.
I take a deep breath before my return to form
then open my lungs for the dive.
If I drown in you, let it come.
I'll stretch it out though,
as I want to cherish the heights of
beauty lacking in me that I see for the future in you.
When the moment comes I'll show the tribunal
the heart of rebellion as I learned it through
the audience in their seats.
The spider shall rest for the weaving
as the suspicious oracle returns.
A Simillacrum May 2018
Tipping over laughing on the edge of the matress
Giggling into cackles as you tackle me, naked
I didn't have to ask you to seek me out here
In the baptismal shallows of deviant desire
In which you ***** and dunk me backward
Throw me open like I'm your own casket
Reach in with hope to save your spoiling soul
Voluntary love took long enough to find me
Across a life on tides of disgust and pity *****
SoVi May 2018
The taste of your poisoned tongue
Filled me with unadulterated lust
Tried to spit out the bile
But you made me swallow it whole

Suspicious, Suppression
Goes hand in hand
Suspicious, Suppression
Sinful life of lust

Avoid this degradation
Dissolution of simple romance
Just wanted to hold my hand
But you defiled me instead

Suspicious, Admission
Just leave me be
Suspicious, Admission
We could have talked

The day has come to an end
Fairytale ending has passed
No point in prolonging demise
Here, let me help you 'friend'

Suspicious, Liberation
I am on the edge
Suspicious, Liberation
Jumping to my death



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
A Simillacrum Apr 2018
Wake to nothing
In place of emotion
Numbers as an ocean
Describe the pattern
At the heart of it
As much as you start
To feel a feeling
Like a spark
You are
Nothing at all
More than
Elementary math

Send/Receive

Send/Receive

Crawling in the absence
Critters drawn to absinthe
Drink of my synthetic blood
Broadcast discreetly
My signal seeks to meet
The systems caught the virus Love

The nightmare,
I puppeteer the players
In morbid fascination
The nightmare,
Eager to crush, but
Afraid of what
It's picking up
In morbid fascination
I puppeteer the players
The nightmare,
Virulent in nature
Yet scared of change to come
Mark Parker Jul 2017
Up flew the moonlight tide
flying like a stairway to the clouds.
The light blue stars twinkled
showing the impressionistic side
of the art that is supposed to be
the playing of dice by the four forces.
The beauty of it all seems suspicious.
Never mind it all, lets swim to the clouds.
Woohoo....I wish I was at the beach.
Nylee Feb 2017
People who hide behind sweet words
I really would like to know
What goes inside their mind?

Are they really nice
are they really genuine
or it is just another disguise?

Is their intention pure ,
or do they want a favour?
I cannot know for sure.

I cannot help be suspicious ,
these people are not common
most of them , I imagine , are fictitious .
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