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#graphic
Hello its me again ,it's been a while since we've laid down the complexed inner workings of this twisted mind..trying to make sense of all the noise of being constantly bombarded by questions of a vain existence while playfully fighting the urge to shove a cactus down my throat and out of my *** ..that sounds fun.. If that's your kink stay.. and let me tell you about how I,this awkward pile of fieces made a brief attempt to end himself by...ah...shit shame he's dead..where were we again...treading on the fine line between life and death In and out of consciousness once more or whatever you call it an never ending taunting of fate ,a **** you to death ..
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May 18
May 18, 2026 at 10:54 AM UTC
Minced Meat Thoughts by Devon Cole Mellem
I pay for each cut as if I consumed the world The oceans, the grass, the filth and the dirt Swelling, stretching, tearing at the gut Death seeps into the marrow Even as my bones yearn to hollow, to be birthed anew, to frolic upon the cosmic floor A lightless dawn breaks and my skin falls apart at your touch as if it were never mine shield Shattered, my ribs, yet I breathe Dark feathers sprout like a million pin-pricks pain and pleasure wedded; I accept your penalties along with your gifts Eons to wait before judgement day Your nightly winds move me much; yet my roots run so deep that I wonder, If I shall ever spread my wings, when the price is so steep? -x-
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Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 2:27 PM UTC
dichotomy
I am utterly vile My yellowed body bloats Flesh festers with larvae Numbers at my feet climb Like mold on damp walls I am like a festering wound Filled with maggots and pus Like a half-decayed corpse Skin bruised, yellowed, and knawed Like mold you don't notice Until you bite the bread it lay on It is not real, I tell myself I do not really look like that, I promise myself But every photo I see, Every pair of downcast eyes, Every word I type Tells me otherwise I wish to grow claws And shred my skin off my bones To burn the corpse I live in To **** this infested meat I inhabit I open my fridge for a snack But the power had been cut long ago The meat is ridden with maggots The fruits melting with decay The air buzzing with insects who make their way over to me And burrow into the **** on my stomach I am vile, disgusting, horrendous, viscerally ugly, disturbing, rotting, horrid, decaying, putrid, and I am running out of ways to say it. I am disgustingly human and disgustingly dead. All that is left to do is to burn the corpse.
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Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 4:57 PM UTC
Burning My Corpse
ive been planning pills lined up blades sharpened rope ready take a step closer and closer to the edge fall and hit the pavement pills pills pills i hate taking pills what an awful way to go suffocating on drugs maybe draw a nice warm bath wear my favourite clothes cut deep and breathe out red into the water i hope i die coma or car crash i hope i die so i dont have to do it myself
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Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 9:12 AM UTC
i hope i die
breathing closed heart tight, trembling tears turned the world to glass, edges sharp, light bent, everything slipping tearing through the dark, sharp screams cutting through, hands clawing for the blade, no pause, no thought, just ache, just hunger a flash — the cuts came swift, red blooming beneath skin, in smooth, soft lines, then the fall, the flow and the drip fingers wet with sorrow, tongue tasting iron prayers, smearing grief across closed lips, quiet, feral wrap the arm, but still it seeps, slow, steady, seeping, seeping, until the breaking, until the flood, and i disappear beneath it.
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May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 5:47 AM UTC
iron prayers
i miss bleeding i miss the thin red lines i miss the sting under water i miss the comfort the blade brought i miss the hurt i miss the blood i miss… feeling justified the pain i went through and the pain im in now means nothing because i dont have any more red lines just white ones even when they were red they werent deep enough werent good enough so im not worth it i dont need that much help im lazy i need to try harder other people have it worse other peoples lines are worse **** you you make me miss the blood everything that hurts makes me miss the thin red lines fifty at once soothing cat scratches little drops of blood to feel better but i dont need help i dont deserve help is that what you all think? that i dont try? i try so hard but its still not good enough the days i need help im not good enough i need to be independent im not allowed to ask for help i hate you i hate everyone i hate everything all i want is my red lines back they may have not been good enough for you but they were for me so **** you no one cares ill get my blade ill cut once and feel the sting its not so bad so ill do it again and again and again and thirty more times and ill feel that good sting see the pretty blood and ill feel better ill be better ill be worth the help
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Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 4:39 PM UTC
bleed
im livid, writhing with rage my head is jumbled and aching no pills, no sleep—i am devoured because i give and give and give and they take and rip and shred rip the flesh, rip the bone take the arteries from my heart steal my blood, flee away im drowning, im burning my head is slipping, fracturing hands clawing at my throat water like fire takes my air i can’t breathe, i can’t rest and my lungs burn before they’re taken too my limbs contort, twist, then crack i try to carve my way out but im buried deep tendrils coiled, unbreaking raging, writhing, war in my head i feel the lumps press against my skull i crave to dig them out my hands grip my hair nails sinking in but i fail sinking deeper, heavy limbs lungs rupture, body thrashes the current pulls, the dark consumes in the end im wailing in water
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Mar 6, 2025
Mar 6, 2025 at 11:29 PM UTC
wailing in water
When I'm left to myself My wrists tingle And I vividly see what it would like like To scratch and scratch, until blood flowed like a river To pry my nails from my body, with a squelching sound To pull my teeth with pliers, feeling the roots' empty place To stab pencils into my thighs, and leave them in the contracting muscles To pour acid down my back, and feel it burning and bubbling and the tissues peeling off To scoop out my eyes, and finally be blind to the world, with crimson tears running down my face
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Dec 1, 2021
Dec 1, 2021 at 2:25 PM UTC
Self Destructive Thoughts
Graphic The words you say slash down To my bones Knowing now that all of it was a lie. I'll never leave You'll never lose me I can't lose you Lies. Each memory sharpens the knife edge before it comes down, tearing flesh from my body. Letting a ****** waterfall of memory cascade from my life. Every moment. Good or bad. A new weapon for my own mind to use against my spirit, carving away all the joy that had rebuilt. I wonder. How are we to come back together from this? After all the love, passion and meaning.... Lover to friends seems empty. Flimsy. Leaving my soul a hollow tree burned out in a fire that can't be banished but is somehow gone. The questions in my heart beat through the day and night. Rhythmically. A constant reminder that this torment will never end.
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Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 7:47 AM UTC
Hollow
i look at you and my heart begins to flutter wildly creating a certain heat inside of me, beneath my skin my heart swells and swells until it bursts, ripping my chest open and spraying my guts against the surrounding walls in a thin layer of glittering entrails a masterpiece of carnage and gore practically glistening in the morning sunlight so dazzling, i barely even notice the smell of my sizzling flesh as the golden sun rays rain down on my ruptured organs, transforming them into a puddle of bubbling crimson brew my legs turn numb and i collapse to the floor in a pile of bones and blood oh how you make me MELT .
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Dec 14, 2020
Dec 14, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
romance is dead.
Who knows why you finally did it? The pain of living felt worse than death. So decisive and certain you were. A gun's swift act took your last breath. I hope you have peace in the life beyond. So young yet your pain had grown too great. Did you not know there's still so much hope? Could no one soothe the wounds in your heart? Now I work to keep your body alive. Your soul has long left its source of pain. I watch your parents sit and weep, Crying to have their child back again. Would you have done it if you knew what came after? For your family, the picture will always stay fresh. Your face unrecognizable to those who knew you. Your skull a mutilated mass of flesh. Yet still there is hope at the end of this nightmare. Others may find life through your demise. Each ***** a lifeline for a soul in the balance. But that does not comfort your parent's cries. Do I sob in grief or rejoice in new life? As I continue to keep a body working. I feel the weight of the duty I carry. The guardian of both the end and beginning. I wish you and your family all comfort and peace. I go home and leave the work behind. But I could never forget what I saw in these days. The sights and smells have their place in my mind.
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Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 11:07 PM UTC
Brain Dead
If you've never been molested If you think it's no big deal If you think it's the victims fault If you think we're just attention seekers Just know this I've been dead since I was a child I can't recall who I was Or who I ever will be I can't feel anything I'm completely empty I see shadows Of monsters and demons I pray to a god I may not believe in I can't trust anyone Not even my own family I block out my memories Only to bleed through my dreams I can't breathe if someone touches me I'm shaking endlessly I'm unable to love I can't be loved It was taken from me When their hand went into me I was broken By a man who got sympathy Where's my sympathy? Where's my healing Where's my it's not your fault They gave it to him Let him sin With a grin While I'm here Sinking Into darkness I only let monsters hold me I'm afraid of the light I'm disgusting and it's always my fault How everything went wrong I'm so sorry That you're disgusting disgrace Touched my innocent face Forced me into a shadow Peeled my skin from me Shed me into insanity I looked so cute in my bathing suit huh And noone ever came They never stopped it Always ignored Always devoured So please understand I will never heal I will never deal And I will continue to peal Until my body dies Along with my soul
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May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 4:54 PM UTC
Peeled
www.youtube.com/watch?v=-nC5TBv3sfU&list=PLbM5LMVZad0auV3U04qAPFrG5QBhwpW5O&index=1
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Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 12:36 AM UTC
Land-19
If I plunge a knife in my heart And wake up again Will I see a new life? Will I see a new me? Oh no, but I'm very empty inside The knife would just Find its way out free
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Jan 9, 2020
Jan 9, 2020 at 11:15 AM UTC
Blurry
I built a prison And so often it changes colour Through its window You can see the world So ugly and so vain You could hold the bars And stare outside Yearning for a taste Of the gloom and pain But you're bound With shackles made of silence From which you cannot recover It's a lonely place, This dreary prison And your mind will turn Into a foe Your bones will grow weary And you'll always be cynical Your nails will drag down the walls And the pounding will never stop Thump-thump, thump-thump It will pulse through the ground The torn walls And flaying tendons Will flood you with their ichor You'll want to move, To make it stop Stop the life from spilling But you can't, You'll lay on the ground Letting my heart Take you prisoner
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Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 10:19 AM UTC
Prisoner
You were so close to me. Every heart beat pumped you closer to me. But you were just poison being injected in. I tore my heart out before it could beat again. We stretched the horizon, Our pallet decorated the sky, For one sweet moment it was just you and I. Your sunshine kissed my closed eye lids. Even when they were closed you still managed to seep through, I couldn’t escape the image of you. But you set in that sun, And never rose again. You took the warmth with you, After all you put me through. It is painful to feel you. What was once petals is now thorns. Bleeding me from every pour, But you don’t seem to care at all. You handed me a revolver, And urged me to pull the trigger. It was hard for me to tense my finger, But you convinced me that this was for the better.
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Aug 14, 2019
Aug 14, 2019 at 7:36 PM UTC
Set In The Sun
Never ask a poet what they think about the things that matter. They will not give a definite answer for their hearts tend to ache somewhat too severely and even then some things are better left unsaid unfinished in a black and white world where any shade of grey is a crime somewhere over the rainbow in a place where it is the safest to not be there at all or else you are certainly the one to blame even if the lace is buried deep within your overwhelming guilt and shame hidden under all the what ifs and pleats and somewhere deeper yet there is the quietest of voices too afraid to speak of the bruises left on the inside of her thighs and within her heart the voice of reason that tells you please don’t walk down that alley keep your friends close and the keys in your hand closer keep your head up high and your hopes down low or whatever else makes sense in this dog eat dog world where everything you will ever know will be shredded and recycled oh, if only to be crushed into a pulp and spoon-fed to another generation diluted with careful consideration into a day-in day-out nine to five not even a cog in the machine a ***** at best and you will be ******* tightened up more and more until you can’t hold it together and whatever it takes falls apart into pieces broken glass on the asphalt a hole in the wall that sinking feeling where a soul should be but the angels don’t visit anymore or answer our prayers the line is always busy there is always something else something more important a bullet in the bible escalating into emergency but who is out there for the unarmed boy dying on the sidewalk misjudged for the colour of his skin who is out there to stop the hand of a father suspended in mid-air with the children cowering at his feet who is out there for the American dream turning into a global nightmare who can tell the pending future staring down the barrel of the gun wondering which side you should be on and what of that which you call freedom only to trade it for martyrdom what of candour and justice and their antonymous nature what of the artists and the poets and everyone else that took a shot but didn’t even come close living in a daydream playing from the same broken record telling us that there is meaning and there is worth in the things we do except that from time to time the needle would skip distorting the vision and at times like these it’s the easiest to look away for every scratch on the surface of reality encourages you simply to pull the trigger No. I will not, I refuse to let this get the best of me. The pen is a blade. I slit my wrist and pour my heart out onto the page instead. This is a sacrifice I am willing to make. I will tear myself apart on my own terms. If I cannot do it myself, who else will?
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Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
trigger warning
Never ask a poet what they think about the things that matter. They will not give a definite answer for their hearts tend to ache somewhat too severely and even then some things are better left unsaid unfinished in a black and white world where any shade of grey is a crime somewhere over the rainbow in a place where it is the safest to not be there at all or else you are certainly the one to blame even if the lace is buried deep within your overwhelming guilt and shame hidden under all the what ifs and pleats and somewhere deeper yet there is the quietest of voices too afraid to speak of the bruises left on the inside of her thighs and within her heart the voice of reason that tells you please don’t walk down that alley keep your friends close and the keys in your hand closer keep your head up high and your hopes down low or whatever else makes sense in this dog eat dog world where everything you will ever know will be shredded and recycled oh, if only to be crushed into a pulp and spoon-fed to another generation diluted with careful consideration into a day-in day-out nine to five not even a cog in the machine a ***** at best and you will be ******* tightened up more and more until you can’t hold it together and whatever it takes falls apart into pieces broken glass on the asphalt a hole in the wall that sinking feeling where a soul should be but the angels don’t visit anymore or answer our prayers the line is always busy there is always something else something more important a bullet in the bible escalating into emergency but who is out there for the unarmed boy dying on the sidewalk misjudged for the colour of his skin who is out there to stop the hand of a father suspended in mid-air with the children cowering at his feet who is out there for the American dream turning into a global nightmare who can tell the pending future staring down the barrel of the gun wondering which side you should be on and what of that which you call freedom only to trade it for martyrdom what of candour and justice and their antonymous nature what of the artists and the poets and everyone else that took a shot but didn’t even come close living in a daydream playing from the same broken record telling us that there is meaning and there is worth in the things we do except that from time to time the needle would skip distorting the vision and at times like these it’s the easiest to look away for every scratch on the surface of reality encourages you simply to pull the trigger No. I will not, I refuse to let this get the best of me. The pen is a blade. I slit my wrist and pour my heart out onto the page instead. This is a sacrifice I am willing to make. I will tear myself apart on my own terms. If I cannot do it myself, who else will?
Continue reading...
96
Can we go back to paper planes, and the sun’s rays, Making out, and writing essays, The world is so simple, or at least it can be, Baby, just set me free… Last night, i earnestly cried, was the first time in a long time, a knife didn’t breach my skin, And i began to think about everything I had to lose, but yet still so much to win. I thought of the girl, who had so easily stolen my heart, And then piece by piece, ripped it slowly apart. Now, I’m not exactly known, for being studious and smart. But I’m fully aware of when I’m being lied to, from the start. What secrets, do you hide? Love potion, or cyanide. It's clear for me to see, you just were not meant for me, Whenever I’m in pain, you enjoy with such glee. And now my heart's in pieces, all but shattered, I’m deaf to all noise, accepting your laughter… And we start again, all over, I begin to lose composure… And I, am so afraid of dying, Spent, an eternity crying. Need some inspiration, maybe i should talk to God. Why didn’t he forewarn me of your facade. So who gives a **** about you and me? At the end of the day, i just want to be free. Using my hands to shovel through this infinite darkness. Spent days trying to think of a word to rhyme with darkness, but all i could think about, was love!
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Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 8:51 AM UTC
Paper Planes, and the Sun's Rays