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Ackerrman Aug 2019
Wrinkled. Dry faced. Charging down old stairs.
Not what I expected, but I lunged my frantic knife.
Wild eyes turn to wells as aged bright stars stare back.
Heart shattered visage glides, bumbling. Mirage.

Please go do some gardening. Your flowers are
Sick without you. I miss you. Dream spoilt. Crooked,
Half-hearted, direful springs sprout poison youth.
Seedlings blight your wrathful name as petals grow…

The flowers you grew colourless now bloom bright.
They miss grey! True blue is cold- burdened purple.
Feel the life drink backward, clutching an endless
Night you downed tools without final reconcile
Or friend blinded from drugs.
Now staring beyond a time-stained bitter fire,
Burnt images caught and ****** through empty dark
Tortured fear-stricken blood wincing agony- ****.

Fate lamenting, sharply-flashing, tortured picture,
Lying motionless. Bleeding internally.
My Grandfather died a couple of years ago. I had been living with him for a while. He died in his sleep and I left him covered in his own blood and ***** for 3 days. I didn't mean to. I had convinced myself he had the flu and had convinced myself that every little change in the apparel of the house was proof he had been out of his room. Until the stench broke through the filter...
Osiria Melody Aug 2019
Are we love or lust?
Has our romance turned to rust

You were once my answer, I knew
Now, just a mysterious clue

I once could trust you with all my heart
Now you auction my loyalty like stolen art

Not sure if it's me or you
But now know our love ain't true

I got inspired from a drama that I watched last night, which involved heartbreak.
Fall Aug 2019
Amour et Vérité, mots singuliers, mais étant intrinsèquement pluriels

Cherchons le sens, l'origine, la profondeurs de nos chers mots

Non, non, non, je refuse de t'user car il n'y a point une fin pour toi

Langues, vaste tel l'eau que possède ces océans

Libre comme si elle glissait sur le bleuâtre gaz qui protège du photon courant

Rieurs des caprices de ses petits écrivains et poetes

Oh désolé , mais tes enfants sont morts

T'ennuie tu ma chère langue ?

Je suis désolé car le monde te refuse

Léchons les marmoneurs , mais refusons les mots qui cherche les artists

I hate " mumble rappers" self proclaiming themselves as artists. Sorry but you are not as long as you can pronounce words correctly.
Jack Torrance Jul 2019
Sometimes I create daydreams,
with nothing omitted,
and if others could see,
then I would be committed.

Daydreams of the pain,
that I’d make you endure,
till you begged me to stop,
as you writhe on the floor.

Dreams of carving “bad mommy”,
into your forehead,
so that your always reminded,
even if I’m dead.

Dreams of hurting him,
for what he’s done to our son,
you never lifting a finger to stop,
not ******* one.

Using me like you did,
like I wasn’t even real,
like I wasn’t a person,
or a human that could feel.

Seven years we’re together,
raising your daughter as mine.
You say you never loved me,
you faked it the whole time?

You only stayed,
because you were pregnant with bub?
In seven ******* years,
you couldn’t find something to love?!

You didn’t want to be,
a single mom of two?!
So you cheated with him?!
Well **** him, and *******!

Now I know the truth,
I know how you got that raise,
it wasn’t just him,
you ****** the entire place.

All of that I could forgive,
but he treats our son like ****,
and you just let it happen,
and I’ll never forget.

He knows that I’ll **** him,
if he ever lays a hand,
but it’s coming to a head,
and I’m about to ******* stand.

He’s all I got left,
you took all the rest,
and he’s the reason I’m here,
why my heart beats in my chest.

I wanted our son,
the moment I knew he was conceived,
and when he was born healthy,
I was so ******* relieved.

So you better pray,
that he doesn’t hurt bub,
because I’m one step from insanity,
all I need is a shove.

You ruined my life,
so you better take care of our sons’,
because my daydreams are vivid,
and I’m dying to try one.
Chris May 2019
I am rabid,
I'm enraged,
I no longer
have a cage,

I am rabid,
I am starved
I am old
and full of scars,

I am rabid,
I'm awake,
I am here,
so is my ache,

I am rabid,
I am mad
I will bite
and I am sad,

I am rabid
I will spread,
I will make sure
that you're dead.
Juan Bot Apr 2019
Twelve days away
I shudder in fear.
Eleven days away
I shed a tear.
Ten days away
I shift and shake nervous.
Nine days away
They say his roar is furocious.
Eight days away
Like the second coming he comes.
Seven days away
Like a boulder he weights 2000 tones.
Six days away
The children prey.
Five days away
It's the end of life's day.
Four days away
The loved ones are missed.
Three days away
Loved ones are kissed.
Two days away
We know that we are soon doomed.
One day away
The last supper is consumed.

The wrath of shim commences
And we die.
The Mayans said that the world will end in 2012. They were 7 years early.
Scarlett Apr 2019
greedy fingers
stolen flesh
beneath fingernails
wounds still fresh
missing entrails
I know you took it
bloodied hands and all
I'll take your limbs
you better learn to crawl

give back my heart.
he who consumes excessive amounts of female flesh, what a sinner indeed.
James Diamond Mar 2019
There is a little Monster that lives
somewhere inside my heart.
It dies when the heart does forgive,
but my rage is my art.

So It thrives, Greedy and Gluttonous.

Unchecked, It grows both day and night
off my wrath, my venom.
Like the apple, It grew large with spite,
and became my Kingdom.

The Parasite, my heart It's sustenance.

I hide It from the light, my Secret,
from those who may despise.
They shan't be able to take It,
It warms my soul with lies.

It's music, divine in Its dissonance.

When the Monster sees my love,
It withers like a Shade.
But my wrath I hold above,
To lose It, I am afraid.

Omnipotent in Its belligerence.

When the Monster sees my enemy,
It gives me my purpose.
It snuffs out my shriveled empathy,
and my hatred acts wordless.

I tear out my heart, and **** with indifference.
Emma Feb 2019
I stab you in the face.
I strangle you to death.
I slap, hit, and kick you over and over again.
I blow up your house.
I put water in your gas tank, and then blow up your car anyway.
I steal your identity, and embarrass you when you have to have her pay for all your dates.
I tie you to a chair, attach your ******* to a car battery via clamps painful on their own, and then proceed to electrocute you.
I steal your dog, and she likes me better anyway.
I turn your sister into a lesbian.
I recruit four horsemen to pull you limb from limb between them.
I burn you to the ******* ground, and force-feed your ashes to someone you hate, so you're always a part of them.
I slice you open from taint to ******* and stuff you with cheese as rancid as your soul before sewing you back up and sealing it with a kiss.
I feed you **** pie.
It doesn't really matter though; my fury never dies.
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