#schizoid - Hello Poetry

i measure snow by the lightyear -- only a few atoms per cubic meter. do you hear the crystals form? the unfeeling, passionless mist looms over the door, like over the bin of lamb chops at the grocer's. an exit with no entrance a retreat with no paid leave. why won't you let me in? i can see so many dying stars in that compound eye of a cockroach who hides in the walls, behind a shield of asbestos, turning over onto its back, vulnerable. a thin sheet of ice forms over a puddle. i dip my foot in and my boot so easily permeates, intrudes.

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Aug 20, 2019

Aug 20, 2019 at 12:11 PM UTC

effieebbtide

dry ice

i measure snow by the lightyear -- only a few atoms per cubic meter. do you hear the crystals form? the unfeeling, passionless mist looms over the door, like over the bin of lamb chops at the grocer's. an exit with no entrance a retreat with no paid leave. why won't you let me in? i can see so many dying stars in that compound eye of a cockroach who hides in the walls, behind a shield of asbestos, turning over onto its back, vulnerable. a thin sheet of ice forms over a puddle. i dip my foot in and my boot so easily permeates, intrudes.

18

I am a demon I am my wicked thoughts An anarchist to everything Pure, simple and true. I clean my teeth with your despair destroy your dreams with one simple laugh I can twist your words like curls around a finger and yet I am my own demon picking at my own voices hoping they would crack and bleed just another ant on the surface or a zero in binary code craving to be something honest maybe even simple up high on the mountains with delicate, glass bones I want to cause celebration from my own destruction.

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Jun 28, 2017

Jun 28, 2017 at 5:56 AM UTC

luxfalls

Demon

I am a demon I am my wicked thoughts An anarchist to everything Pure, simple and true. I clean my teeth with your despair destroy your dreams with one simple laugh I can twist your words like curls around a finger and yet I am my own demon picking at my own voices hoping they would crack and bleed just another ant on the surface or a zero in binary code craving to be something honest maybe even simple up high on the mountains with delicate, glass bones I want to cause celebration from my own destruction.

15

- New King Born in Zion - Revelation of my destiny, outcast and branded My face bringing profound joy but yet sadness Was born to lead away, not to follow the rest Yet hated for what I was born to do I provide them (doctors) my brain to tamper with Vexed and poisoned, from beginning to end Take my job seriously with the present hackin' Will it be heaven or hell; a limbo effect sways The choices we make here (earth) we live n' we pay Parallel patterns, continuous thoughts, remark of events A trail of evidence never stops, engulfing in stress Eternal pain from on out; cannot escape now Depiction of admission to safety (lies) to each it's own abyss Drowning in my own flesh and blood, bone too The world swallowing me whole spitting me out though The elders, the conman, the snakes, the cops, the terrorists, The nurses, the rich and the poor tell me to stop... Yet I know it's too late for me to ever go back - THE END - ©Franko the Christian Poet

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Aug 6, 2016

Aug 6, 2016 at 3:44 PM UTC

franko-the-christian-poet

Shining Star

- New King Born in Zion - Revelation of my destiny, outcast and branded My face bringing profound joy but yet sadness Was born to lead away, not to follow the rest Yet hated for what I was born to do I provide them (doctors) my brain to tamper with Vexed and poisoned, from beginning to end Take my job seriously with the present hackin' Will it be heaven or hell; a limbo effect sways The choices we make here (earth) we live n' we pay Parallel patterns, continuous thoughts, remark of events A trail of evidence never stops, engulfing in stress Eternal pain from on out; cannot escape now Depiction of admission to safety (lies) to each it's own abyss Drowning in my own flesh and blood, bone too The world swallowing me whole spitting me out though The elders, the conman, the snakes, the cops, the terrorists, The nurses, the rich and the poor tell me to stop... Yet I know it's too late for me to ever go back - THE END - ©Franko the Christian Poet

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