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#foul
But when you say there are no others, what if I questioned you instead of my mind? There is no other? Then who is she? You dont think about anyone else? Then do you not think of me? You're not a player? Yet you've told me you've played with others? You're scared of love? Yet you still say you love me? Have I succumbed myself into an endless addiction of lies from the one true love I had my eyes on? Would you answer that one truthfully? Or yet lie again to where I cant comprehend it anymore.
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Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 3:15 AM UTC
What have I done to myself?
my fingers are laced in a chalice of drugs that **** my sensations. i used to resist them as a loner— until the white coat angel ignited my fouls with radio-knob tweaking. now i sprawl in expiring fictions that come anew and reprint their additives; making me a king of numbers, of colours, of game. until my world is all mold and brain.
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Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 10:51 PM UTC
Additive
Do not  Use foul language.  It is not good to hear.  Speak something wonderful that is pleasant Which brings joy to its possessor  Enlightens ones goodness  And character  Always
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Sep 20, 2024
Sep 20, 2024 at 1:49 AM UTC
Speak something good
foul weather friends creep in with the clouds misery keeps company on the inside looking out “i’d pull all the teeth from your open mouth before i’d ever let you frown” it's all gore from here on out heavensent friends descend from the clouds hiding fangs behind kind hands you can hardly hide your smiles “i’d rather see the frown torn from your mouth, than ever think i’d let you down” friends from above, keeping me from looking up i can’t ever be like them if i don’t learn to stomach blood “you could be happy, smiling with all your teeth - but then why would you need me?”
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May 30, 2024
May 30, 2024 at 11:16 AM UTC
foul weather friends
It's true, I usually don't know what to do What if I'm not around long enough to follow through? Never know if my way or the highway is the right way What did that sign say? Will it be possible to recognize this impending last day Even if just a day before it's referred to as "Ah shiit, is that today?" This is foul, Where do I go and what do I do now? And just because I know what to do doesn't mean I'll comprehend the how Who in their right mind could stand here and say they could handle the architecture and atmosphere of so many types of conflicting fear? Who's the stranger with the black soul looking back at me in the mirror? I wish it was clearer But there's never a gene around ever Take note that not every question has a viable answer While some answers only raise more questions after filtering through questionable ********** banter That's why there's a little manic in the laughter And a wave of panic soon after ©2024
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Feb 15, 2024
Feb 15, 2024 at 3:48 PM UTC
~•§•~ Conflicting Fears ~•§•~
Run aground play real foul you say I'm the ***** dame beneath your ***** scowl Oh, a soldier of fortune you are not Oh, the circles you swim to believe anything make icy waters boiling hot Oh, you like to say you're in the know a little girl in a grown man's closet waiting for the sun to get low you might say you're superstitions but you never learned the mythos Halloween is over, Now go on home and rattle your bones and tell Teddy why you sleep alone Lie alone with your lies, child The audience is gone Give yourself whatever performance you need to explain away all your misdeeds, but 9/10 lifeboats can't be wrong (maybe you stared too long) You say I am the morning I might just be just your morning But even if it's what you don't like I will always be his night.
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Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC
The Fowl
He can curse up a storm make a sailor blush Foul blue language spewed out in a gush Could strip paint clean off a battleship Exponentially worse if you give him any lip Rambling in sincerity's guise but his worst 4-letter words are all his LIES © 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
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Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC
***** Mouth
Sky was clear, deep blue, When a jet plane passed through; Aesthetically foul!
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Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 1:49 PM UTC
Plain unaesthetical
My bones are turning dry,        breaking, on the silver rope. My flesh decaying dry,        cells, blackened dirt. Foul meat drops,         beneath, the hounds hungered long.
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Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC
Filler
Recoil. And recoil fast. She was of simple taste so He shattered her veiny lungs with his spit almost effortlessly. Under his weight she was stunted, her limbs frozen by the constant of his blarring audioporn. At every touch she had to brace herself for his embrace.
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
Recoil foul foal
He tasted dry, When licked with sour spit. His scent was foul. Broad hands rejected Curling feet. Met by scowling eyes, He criticised me with love.
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 7:45 AM UTC
Leather Love
In some twisted way, I almost feel happy. My body is tense, My breathing rapid, My mind skirts the edges of insanity. My conscience hangs by a mere thread, Dangling precariously over the edge. In some twisted way, I almost feel whole. The dark that rapes me holds me steady, It fills in the spaces otherwise unoccupied. There are unexplored oceans, Haunted by ghostly ships, Rising high on the crest of the evening tide. A beautiful, terrifying event to witness. In some twisted way, I see black as a colour. The speck that grows in a distant corner, Nearing its full force, Is elegant. Ever so gently, it drains my free will. It absorbs my ambition, my desire to accomplish, The very air in my lungs is anything but my own. I am the black, just as the black is me. In some twisted way, I feel powerful. The disdain I feel for myself, Cannot be outweighed. It moves, breathes death, And with a mind of its own it consumes me. Until, I have been overcome, And the grass is grey, Birds shriek in terror, Waves crash violently against jagged stone, Laughter turns to mockery, Food is poison, Sleep is a crypt, Life is a tomb.
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Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 3:29 PM UTC
In Some Twisted Way
You, the ashen alyssum homing in on dark bushes breeding maggots feeding on flesh.   You the fetid parasite   carrion, the rotten stink a toxin laced tongue devouring pith. You, the stench of malignant blossoms a venomous creeper, you had to attract snakes. You live among the graves the poison pollinator, a corpse floret of foul odour. You the venin cloaked in smirk a shrew, spiked with malice must be crushed, must die.
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 4:06 AM UTC
You live among the graves
Wounds were never afflicted with repercussion of syllable lesions.. No quite the opposite, Unfamiliar tastes on the tongue, cleansed improper tastes.
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
When Other Words Are Swilled
Till her scream faded Inside the temple walls She had cried o'er a week And she tried to get help They came and ***** Tore her cloths off And never came kindness She was mere eight Yet they tore her apart She was choked Beaten to death After they satisfied themselves Her body was dropped On the side of the road Bribery shut the cops They never talked about it Let the days fade the scent Did they ever know? The world would know the truth And when it does It'd be their doom
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Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 1:12 AM UTC
Little Asifa
Scrunch your nose and jut your chin Show me birds and evil eyes I want to taste the crow Strip the silver from your tongue Dangle it above my face Show me how fortunate fools can be I want to taste the crow Though all I get is grit and grizzle and Snapped raven wings So can you really blame me for Scrunching my nose?
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Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
words of a feather
emblazoned on the gang's coat of arms was the following logo we fight without any principles for we are of the very low ***** tactic achieve our ends and we take pride in the way we trample all over the much politer tends stray not into the areas that we patrol and control as our thuggery will hammer a robust toll our triumphs are legendary across many a land we've a history in employing the grubbiest hand one qualification which is essential when joining our accord that's to be a bandit capable of playing the foul sword
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Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
Foul Sword
You were doing so well Better then before. You could feel the pounds falling from your body. ----------------------------------------------------------- U ****** it up again! Did you seriously think that your childish brain would let you eat whatever? Not without regret! Not without punishment. Don't be such a foul. U know better. Don't let your wild imagination out, Reality is were you live, Not belong. Get a grip girl. You are nothing without me. You feel nothing without me. You can't live without me. Remember that. Now walk. And don't stop.
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Nov 29, 2017
Nov 29, 2017 at 6:26 PM UTC
Walk
Gobble gobble gobble If words we had to say and not end up being eaten on Thanksgiving, or even Christmas day Gobble gobble gobble If our meaning misconstrued let us say emphatically we'd prefer, not winding up as holiday fare, or food Google gobble gobble, man don't think us crass, or rude we're just birds of a feather with, a non-edible attitude
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Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
Gobble me this!