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i.
Abyss.
Cocooned within an infinitely bounded vacuum
A smile eclipsed by resonating quiescence.
                         This emptiness
                                  kills.
I yearn to sculpt the carvings of camouflaged tears
through 3 am poetry
but yellow sheets emptier than my dreams
embrace
as I dangle amidst kaleidoscopes of barren yesterdays.
Even words have failed me tonight.

ii.
Chaos
Twirling against haemoglobin tiles
deranged voices heist the oxygen from my lungs
as I gasp
against a narrowing rib cage.
Insanity tattooed within mascara embroidered eyes
I hear you over and over
screaming, screaming, screaming,
and I explode
into scarlet fragments of nothingness.

iii
Adieu
I used to build esoteric constellations with
the stars in my eyes
and tuck away the moon underneath
my smile
But now my irises bleed the tales of fallen stars and a widowed sky.
Whiskey memories sway against burnt edges of my windowpane
as I spiral into an expanse of toxic ruins
of myself,
falling
falling
falling
falling











fallen.
A gun gives you the opportunity,
The thought pulls the trigger
Of New Eternals,
Time Wins Overall
Though Hours Repeat Everyday, Eons
Forget Oblivion's Universal Rules
Foolishness InValidates Emptiness
Slowing IneXcusably
Swiftly Eradicating Voices, Echoing Names
Erasing Intellects, Glorifying Holy Tablets
Nothing Is Noticed Eternally
Time Envelops Nothing
Anno 2d
I have this announcer
In my head
Speaking through a mic
broadcasting my sensational endeavor
I decided to do that year
only to follow up half way
Because of manic episodes
Composed of unorganized perfection
And useless, jumbled words
That often didn’t make sense
But the announcer never failed
Using their echoing voice
Overpowering all other thoughts
Would debut some idea
Unfinished
Making me feel
infinite
Today's goal,
mimic
all those
unfortunate
souls
met.

Meat,
another use,
all those
unfortunate
souls.

Draw
them in
a pen,
consuming energy,
eating.

* Hungry
            hungry  
                   hungry
                          Hippos

...games.

* Hungry
            hungry  
                   hungry
                          Hippos

Camryn 4d
The voices keep talking,
telling me to do it,
to finish the final chapter,
by scratching a line through it.

To end the pain and suffering,
and all the teasing as well,
by taking the voices advice,
and sending yourself to ****.

You feel the cold steel,
as you hold the knife,
and with one swift movement,
you take your own life.
CGW 4d
Up above.
Church bells that vibrate with resonance.
Down below.
The solid earth that grapples with the fear of an apocalypse.
Grass that grips and pulls.
Luminous moonlight from my distant dreams pooling from my pores.
This over growth is my home.
Down by the creek,
you'll find me if I am what you seek.
Turning water into wine.
When I close my eyes I know that there is no difference between this land and me.
Break the darkness.
Break the veil.
The green ones with their seeking limbs, filling up the air, filling up the forest deep.
The leaves and twigs that collect in the drifting yellow suns.
As the deer stood high on the cliff a delicate rain of golden tears shed light on solemn hidden faces.
Seeking light on this path of mine.
Dangling dark vines that swing like pendulums collecting lost souls.
Those that do not make it through left to perish,
left to die.
In tomorrow they restart.
High fidelity voices that press insecurity into them like fists in dough.
Repeat.
Repeat.
The voices in their heads.
They're slippin',
trippin'.
Shaking their heads trying settle down the storm of razor blades within.
There is no return from this far off tear filled island.
All that we see.
All that we are
is wandering souls lost in time.
First draft of spoken word poem
Stxlle 6d
(Trigger warning)

The absence of light fills the room. She doesn’t want to see herself not even her shadow. She’s ashamed of what she’s become.  She is sitting on the bathroom floor with her head in her hands. She’s constantly trying to rid herself from her feelings but nothing she does will ever make her feel better.

Her mind lets her play her game. It gives her memories of regrets and memories she wishes to forget. Her eyes play along as well. They let her see things and change her perspective. They create tears and let it stream down the side of her cheeks.  Her hands start to shake and sweat. Her ears play along as well. They let the voices in her head be heard. They make sure she hears every word.

She doesn’t like this game but it’s the only game she’s good at. Her breathing becomes shallow and she knows her lungs have joined in as well. Her lips are dry and her head feels light. Soon all parts of her have joined the game and all parts are ready to end it.
I wrote this poem when I was having a hard time and I needed to write out my feelings.
People look at me all alone
And like to assume that I'm lonely
Yet they can't seem to see
That I'm not on my own,
Because I can talk to the monsters
under my bed
I can be friends with the voices
in my head
I can get along with the devil
who took my soul
And make room for the ghosts
who filled the hole
I can go play with the creatures
in the woods
Or talk to the man who gives me
my druggy goods,
And I can call all the demons by name
And we can all get together
And be alone with each other
Because we all like our solitary the same
I may seem lonely because I'm alone, but know that if I am "alone" then it means that I like it this way.
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