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#deprivation
By: The-Drifter-From-Heaven As my eyes linger in the dark, I see shadows like a spark. It burned my vision, And tainted my heart; It consumed my reason, In a dark clasp.
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Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 8:13 AM UTC
The Dark Clasp
With the blue face of Picasso, he grabs all the strangely dismembered and distorted deprivations, pressing them like wild flower stencils onto the canvas before him… His sausage fingers rolling up his collaged carnage cigar… placing it to his clay mouth - Looking at the skyscrapers outside his house “I do this for my paradise country…” On a dizzy permutation of this ferocious routine; he realises - nothing fits - “I’m a preacher in my own **** But the apple is sweeter because of me… The pear trees are weaker… And at least we lost their weeping wisdom and childish victimisation… remember… “We make the system - ” art is meat, art is mickey… And we’ve shrivelled their fruit to display in exhibitions, give to our children; and to flavour our unique trappings of meat certification…
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Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 6:12 AM UTC
Meat-certification
How could I live? How Could I be? When you’re so far And I’m alone, When you’re not there For me To call Home, To guide me By My Hand? To tell me who the Hell I am, And where I Should stand? Leave me Here to go, To go bone dry, And run away From A million eyes. Run your hands back Through my blood And tell me, Really, That You’re not gone.
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Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 7:53 AM UTC
Blood Runs Thicker Than Water
I can't sleep I can't sleep I can't sleep I can't sleep I won't sleep I don't want to Forgive the champion, he deserves the loss Once in a while, can't close my eyes I want to put my hands around my neck the grinding of my teeth the air that I breathe Stop it stop it stop it stop it from flowing I've been enjoying drinking at six, seven, eight, nine, ten watching the road from my balcony listening to the drone of motor machines I feel empty, but am I not, constantly?
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Mar 27, 2025
Mar 27, 2025 at 10:38 AM UTC
Desperation
Cracked sienna and burnt umber bark on trees fuzzy with blue green lichen, like the stark, leafless, winter clothes, of Highgate’s denizens. Hazel branches stripped bare by squirrels a foodless frosty park, it’s Victorian bowling green surrounded by golden paths and benches is wild, broken, neglected grass and concrete. Exposed on the grass a hungry squirrel gnaws her nut sees danger and runs up a tree. A dog barks and tries to climb, loses interest, and sniffs the inner city's air. The park whimpers deprivation.
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Dec 9, 2024
Dec 9, 2024 at 3:24 PM UTC
Highgate park (free verse)
The cracked and umber, cyan, lichened bark, its wintry deprivation echoes stark impoverishment: the denizens live their neglected, leafless lives, in Highgate Park. The winter icy earth’s, anaemic fare, enough for hungry birds and squirrels, there is insufficient food for bigger beasts, who huddle, famished, in the frosty air. A grassland’s faded, green, uncut, now greets all walkers down its dwindled concrete streets, replacement for old honeyed flags: new flaws displacing golden pathways, lined with seats. The squirrel, hungry in the cold still gnaws her nuts: she holds the winter food in claws, and quickly looks for danger, then a pause, and runs, avoiding snapping canine jaws
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Dec 8, 2024
Dec 8, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
Highgate Park (rubaiyat)
. often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing   nodding into conversation  and durring out                                            like a tiny failing electric fan   struggling to appear present and take part    then whirring   into a congested cumulus   a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee she dribbles her features into her colourful lap her words become a slury chum of incoherence (she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether) i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature) the opposing to what may seem                                                                  this fella supports my depressions feature being and monitor's my decline fleshed out to drain me                                                                 whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                                                      and rot in the anxious conglomeration a distracted reality from reality already conquered                          flagged and declared ;     the phony thing that's real
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Oct 22, 2024
Oct 22, 2024 at 10:31 PM UTC
results of sleep deprivation
. often   i am retrodden   after passing a lengthy sleep battle day following day      i wake in and out   loftily bobbing   nodding into conversation  and durring out                                            like a tiny failing electric fan   struggling to appear present and take part    then whirring   into a congested cumulus   a colleague, (name slips me), sips her coffee she dribbles her features into her colourful lap her words become a slury chum of incoherence (she may snap back if i have energy to retrieve her she may  upon a whim   form another person altogether) i have accumulated a D.S.C. (Depression Support Creature) the opposing to what may seem                                                                  this fella supports my depressions feature being and monitor's my decline fleshed out to drain me                                                                 whilst acting as a detracting blurred vision shaking in a drabby coat  and baring its dumbed face i'm turned inward on drooping wealth                                                      and rot in the anxious conglomeration a distracted reality from reality already conquered                          flagged and declared ;     the phony thing that's real
Continue reading...
24
We are Born and bred Into a life of dread. We are oblivious To concept, Shaken by Small upset. We rely On a human touch, To feel at ease, A pure ecstasy To us. A gentle hold, Small movement To and fro. Whispers of gold, From the depths Of a human soul. But we grow And learn of self Love, Yet still yearn For human touch. But some Do not recieve. They must suffer Neglect, Lack of affection, As one to another Is hurt by rejection. How purity Is seen as weak, Bleak, And tossed by authority. A desire so Ravenous, Brushed away By whom we thought Established us. For one cannot live In this manner of such, As a soul becomes empty Without the human touch.
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Oct 28, 2023
Oct 28, 2023 at 3:36 PM UTC
A Simple Touch
Thoughts that drift off into thoughtless. Thoughtless, I'm lost to the the darkness I have no feeling Deaf, blind, mute, tasteless seething I'm lost, but I'm believing Believing? Oh yes, I'm still believing in you.
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Apr 3, 2023
Apr 3, 2023 at 11:11 AM UTC
Senseless Deprivation
exhaustion drifting through our days taping eyes open shaking ourselves awake all this starvation and deprivation of today's nation yearning for another minute of shut-eye while staying up staring at screens late at night
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Nov 15, 2022
Nov 15, 2022 at 1:45 PM UTC
tired students
Ugly ugly ugly I can only assume How you think of me While I lay naked in our room I'm hungry Starving For a touch Of strength and admiration Ugly ugly ugly This is deprivation Ugly ugly ugly I beg to please you Every touch seems new 4 years of cold I've been waiting in our room Ugly got ugly And I'm only left to assume Ugly ugly ugly Your attraction to me is doomed
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Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 10:25 PM UTC
ugly
it's nothing like they painted in the books, this thing we call home where hearts and souls roam; only throats constantly hanging on hooks hand in hand at dinner tables, praying; but what they forgot was pleading with God for some patience at 6 in the morning no laughing under the bright christmas trees, warm conversations, pointing stars til dawn; only tighter grips for a hug and kiss is it me or them or the books that's wrong? is home even real, or a far fetched dream? because this place feels very far from home
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Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 7:59 AM UTC
t̶a̶h̶a̶n̶an
I was not fed love on a silver spoon Never have I ever tasted it Thus, many questions runs in my mind All due to curiosity of deprivation Did love tasted sweet? was it addictive? Was it never bitter to the taste? I am clueless of it, for I was neglected I grew not knowing how love tasted when spoon fed But all this is a thing of the past now A yesterday's misery A mind once hungry of information It is nothing but an unfortunate memory Now I have learned to lick it off a knife The taste of sweet love along with my blood The pain is mixed with pure ecstasy I savor it and close my eyes, I dream of heaven It has became my new drug I care not for myself as long I could taste love This is the only self-destruction I have wished for I accept it wholly, I give my heart to it
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Jun 22, 2021
Jun 22, 2021 at 3:21 AM UTC
Consequences due to deprivation of love
When sad, empty eyes chance to rest upon Other eyes fixed in a hopeless gaze, What sweet fantasies overrun the mind-- Navigating love's enchanting maze How the pulse quickens when love is the prize, Like dried kindling, hope begins to burn; But what pain when one heart greedily feasts, And for the other shows no concern What a dilemma when only one heart Lights the darkness with love's burning flame; Merciless anguish does not spare the rod When Love's endeavor is put to shame For what is the mainstay of caring hearts If not love that's given in return? Just as a candle's flame must extinguish When there remains no wick left to burn I've heard it said love begets love, and yet Love's hunger still courses through my veins; So my starving heart forages for crumbs In Love's graveyard of decaying remains Unrequited love always takes its toll -- A forbidding toll each heart must pay; Love cannot survive without sustenance, Weakened by neglect, it fades away
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Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 3:38 PM UTC
The Unloved
You don't talk but your eyes speak Powerful words that make me weak I miss your touch it has been a week This sensory punishment is your worst technique
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Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 5:10 AM UTC
Her Penalty
You are not like the rain You never teased my skin Planting ideas in my head That grew roots in my heart The acid Dripping from your tongue, You burnt me. The storm raged The waters haven't calmed since. I felt love, I Feel love, I bleed hurt And long for a tsunami To sweep me from this nightmare. Come back Break my skin Please Show me what it feels like to love again. Let me dance in the toxicity And bathe in the poison Your scent Your fumes Paint Dirt Home A fresh rain falls I'm drawn back in Let me drown
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May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 10:18 PM UTC
Scooter
Missed an hour No problem Missed 3 hours That's a problem At risk of disease Not good I've caught a cold It's not even winter Forgot something What day is it? Need to visit my grandpa Hopped in the vehicle Woke up To shattered realization If only I slept At a daily rhythm
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Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 3:36 PM UTC
[Deprived of Rest]
She likes to walk naked along the midnight river for there is a nightmare denying her sleep She´s trying to drown it in depths of the water but all the drowned fears keep living indeed Like moon to the sky she keeps coming back a figure of an angel a statue made of steel She parleys with her demons to call off their threats In clothes she was born with her soul comes out to heal
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Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 2:23 AM UTC
Midnight walk
if i put the same effort into getting out of bed that i do starving myself i would be so progressive im gonna pass out you dont look too good i see it in your face i havent been to school in 3 weeks because getting out of bed is too hard so i lay there depriving my dog of playtime and walks so i could sulk in isolation skipped work to nap i cannot move
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Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 1:58 PM UTC
Untitled
He prowls, loose and deadly, fears, light and hungry. But they don't tell him, NO, they don't tell if they're laughing or crying. (Aren't they moving their mouths?) He pleads, flailing, wanting to fail, but he warns them, still, (Why aren't you afraid?) they don't stop him. He should run, save them. (Please listen!) He can't, and black shields him. (Stop hurting me.) Void and blinding and gone, he stands, towers. (Don't look at me.) There are strands on his fingers, pulling the bones, digging, gripping, touching, (Tasting?) next to nothing around him, and black pierces, picks him. (Where did they go?) He hears them part, then gnashes them, gnaws them, his snarls beg from them, (Where did you go?) and it panics, urges, burrows in skin (Get out of my ears.) They sicken his eyes, cover them, throw them, (Get out of my ears.) sense leaves him with nothing. As nothing, he stands, (Move.) he prowls, (Move.) loose, (Move me.) deadly, (Make me.) and fears, (Warn me!) light, (Me.) and hungry. ;Narcissist.
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Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:38 PM UTC
the narcissist key
dark purple under my eyes tired not a surprise goosebumps i wish i was warm hopefully i'll get swallowed by the swarm i've been deprived of sleep at night i've been deprived of you holding me tight
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Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
deprivation
Guilt of lack of sleep makes me decide to go to bed early, Guilt of lack of accomplishments makes me unable to sleep thinking about it, Guilt of sleeping in and time wasted makes me put 3 alarms at 6:01 am, 6:02 am, and 6:05 am, Guilt of my emotions eating me up, makes me unable to get up even when Im wide awake, It turns out that guilt is the only thing I accomplish, allow to eat my day up, and yet can't decide on lacking.
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Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
the guilt wins everytime