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D I A Mar 2015
Spinning
Twirling
blur.

Frozen teardrops
The world is still.
D I A Mar 2015
I stand here watching
Waiting for you to move
To stand and smile
Your cold corpse stretching.
Tears fall upon your lips
Skin the colour of polecian
Your beauty unmarked and still
Like the marble on which you lay
Paler in death than life
Pearled droplets in midnight blue hair
Lips a faded red
Eyes closed
A masterpiece to Death
And I your killer
Weeps.
Brian Payamps Feb 2015
Is hard to find peace in religion just ask the middle east. But a church is like a library where you can hear your thoughts speak. The words that your heart whispers but your mind doesn't hear. It spills like a faucet leak. One word at a time till you've cried a river. Repent the pastor said. Repent the pastor said. And when I did the load was lifted of my shoulders. But once I was free that same world I was reliefed from put the nails through my hands and feet. Slowly so I can feel it piercing through the skin. Crowned me with thorns as they mocked the king. Father forgive them for which they don't know of their sin. This is where the fall of Rome begins.
Cesar had Jesus crusified.... the Brutus killed Cesar his empire betrayed him like Israel to Jesus but only one arose from the dead on the 3rd day...
Lux Capacitor Feb 2015
You remove the words from my mouth
treating me like a fountain spring
(insert laughter)
when you're dry and searching for life
only if, and otherwise I'm off
Your precious utility
darkly in your canteen
You remove my words as if you're due
mitigation for free

I won't be left alone
within your arm's reach
If that's what you want,
how bout I pull open my wounds?
To let all the bees out?
How bout I twist on your wrist?
To show you I've got poison
to take, if you've nothing to give.
Abbie Crawford Feb 2015
She stared into the vacuum of melancholy,
still unsure of what the word meant.
With the devils piercing eyes penetrating her skull,
but that was okay because she still didn't understand what religion was.
Her heart full of love, and not a single trace of hate.
Childish behavior was deemed acceptable because she was a child.
It was the crickets song,
the lonely moon just floating - smiling.
Lightning striking the asphalt made the night even darker.
As she took one step,
the devil took two.
Soon her steps became tiresome and short,
and the devils became bold and long.
That's when the crickets got arthritis.
Her globular organs changed into a dark colour.
She faithfully fed her pet pig and then slaughtered it.
Strange behavior.
The candle burns in memory,
youth passed away.
Abbie Crawford Feb 2015
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
thinking that this was it.
I remember sitting at the edge of my bed,
wanting to die at the age of 14 because the I felt the life I had lived was unbearable.
When someone makes you feel like **** all the time you feel like there is no escape.
No, it wasn't the bullies at my school.
It was my mother.
My mother who had drove me to my attempted suicide.
Hounding at me for days, ripping me apart like a tough piece of meat, and these vicious attacks that would leave me numb like diamorphine would.
The only way I could escape was drugs.
Drugs that would make me feel dead, but also alive.
Swimming around in my blood like a sardine looking for its school.
Blood pounding, heart rushing, adrenaline pumping.
And when it was over?
I would find myself in the emergency room at 4:00 AM with my arm hooked up to a saline drip, like a prisoner who was to be interrogated.
I'd wake up with thirsty eyes and a mouth stale with the taste of *****.
The tribulation was unbearable,
with every inch of my body griping for more of the substance.
I felt like I was tangled up in branches like ligaments that would only break once you cut them with a scalpel.
Then I met you.
It was like I didn't need the drugs anymore, but I did need the scalpel,
and you were my ******.
You were addictive like a drug and I always came back for more.
You tasted so fine,
like beef but softer.
I was awoken at 4:00 AM with the sound of police banging of my door.
I think they found out little secret.
twist
MissMalice Jan 2015
Have you seen her ?
Her skin is like winter
Her hair as strands of gold
Her eyes a cerulean shade
Though she has unsteady hands

Yes ! She is in Wonderland
The ground is of sweetly confection
The clouds are of candy floss
The waters , of buttermilk
Though each grain of sugar is a little white lie

Oh how gracious , sounding oh so pleasant
And her name is Alice , soft like the finest taffeta
Do you happen to know where Wonderland is ?
Haste , Haste !

Oh yes I do , I have been there many times !
You must be willing to devote yourself completely !
For wonderland is of other-wordly proportions
But if you must know , She is in a the pretty box . Motionless in white
Intended to stand metaphoric for death
Roses are red.

Violets are blue.

How many girls,

have you said that to?

You're always pleading,

saying its true.

Give me one good reason why, I should believe you.
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