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#unholy
02/05/25 I’ll see it   once I believe it                   the holy bell is rung            I’ll feed myself   when I deceive myself          the holy well is deep 04/05/25 i'll draw breath  when breath is given                            the holy song  remains unsung    i'll free myself  when i defeat myself                         the holy word  bites its tongue
0
May 6, 2025
May 6, 2025 at 10:47 PM UTC
1000 011
Adorned of cuts and bruises, The temple of worship A shrine to her. For her. Lips tracing bones that stay beneath skin, Breathless, abandoned in beliefs. The only belief is this. What this is, Who this is, The trails across skin that lay wake to stories. A nurturing self image, Wrapped in lustful demise. It could end you. It could eat you alive. You'd let it. You always do.
0
Apr 27, 2025
Apr 27, 2025 at 5:38 AM UTC
1/7
...being a beacon for darkness ...being a deacon of evil ...seeing no evil regardless ...seeing honesty as a hurtle ...restating unholy responses ...restating there'll be no upheaval ...ruling with no conscience ...ruling different for different people ...playing your god against us ...playing yourself in the process ...knowing none of it is real ...knowing if it is your going to hell ©2024
0
Apr 14, 2024
Apr 14, 2024 at 9:10 PM UTC
~•§•~ You Better Pray to God That God's Not Real ~•§•~
In this unholy battle, We're acceptable collateral? Why is this accepted? It's not even ethical Distract, create a spectacle Like, oh I don't know, A traveling circus Call it a big tent revival Keep your intellectual To an abysmal level View who believe you To truly be the cesspool From car to front door, time to mingle A hive mind kicks in, single file Resembling a slaughterhouse line Cosplaying as unaware cattle Only the needy need the label to be biblical Instantly non consequential Tell me, who's more feared, A specific god or his devil? Is it possible be honest though? Any chance of pausing the show? And collectively admit The only truth is...we don't know ©2024
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Mar 15, 2024
Mar 15, 2024 at 4:20 AM UTC
~•§•~ Do You Even Hear Yourself? ~•§•~
with your sin stained touch, unholy scriptures, and whispered prayers falling from your wicked tongue, sometimes i wonder if we’re truly of the ****** disgraced in the eyes of the lord, or if the lord revels in our unholiness
0
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
Untitled #18
When she hold His heart She chopped it Into edible pieces Pour Jack Daniel 30cc Lit 2 Cigars One for her One for Her new lover
0
Sep 19, 2020
Sep 19, 2020 at 6:20 AM UTC
Loop
you are an unholy sort of beautiful a rejection of divinity in every freckle and curve in the dirt under your nails and the blood in your smile your crooked nose and clever fingers screaming that you are godless you dress yourself in an artless kind of humanity and revel in the shock it brings hair and skin and dirt and all the warmth you can gather between two hands you cup your heart in scarred palms like the very opposite of a benediction you wear debauchery like a second skin darling, you could **** god with a grin
0
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 11:53 AM UTC
unholy sort of beautiful
Decaying parts Live zombies Ungodly bodies made holy again Are you still alive? Though I know you to be ashes stashed in the broom closet, how is it your skin still walks this Earth? Unattached to me, but grasping onto a stranger. If they wish to pull the heart from their chest, will you die again? This imposter wears your skin as a sweater. If he sins will you too, be a born again sinner?
0
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
Transplant
she once had stars on her eyes that could light up the way back home without the moon helping out and she once had a fire on her heart that could warm up even the coldest night with just the touch of her fingertips ~ but the stars were ripped out and the fire burned out ~ now all she has are a broken pair of wings and a tainted halo and her forsaken form walks the streets of a land she doesnt know but oh, dear, she has never felt more alive than she does on earth
0
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 5:36 AM UTC
un•ho•ly
You were my Sin And my Redemption - All at once. Was it a Miracle? That, I still question. - unholy pleasure -
0
Apr 13, 2020
Apr 13, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
Miracle
a woman comes to me at 2:20am, from across the world, asking if I am that cool jew, occupant/son of the unholy hours when death and crucifixion, them two old friends, are waving temptation with both hands, never mentioning heaven, offering .99 cents of sanitized compliments, which for a fifth rate amateur writer is revolutionary, as close as you will ever come to global recognition that woman says, yes! you’re that insufferable fool whose suffering keeps us awake when he should be sleeping in the half-death state, in the unholy hours, only reporting back what he has seen across the borderline, in these times when a thousand-die-a-day daily from suffering that is uniquely human, a wracking medieval torture, granting those viral messengers, slow extra pleasure be nice to yourself for a change, write ‘bout what they want, broken love and suicide, mundane pain, keep it plain, short! easy stuff that sells records, making you not whisper words never meant to be shared, the language of the unholy hours, a dialect unique, that Google can’t quite rightly translate, for not every vision is substitutable, suitable, rated G for babies, so, keep it short like a miserable life that needs a prophecy to complete *48 hours ago thought I was infected, a glide path to rocky moon-smooth, a landing where words unique, taken away, sealing your mouth with tubed oxygen that inhibits thinking, air that might **** all of you, not just pain, but what makes you unique, your own 10 commandments of speech, the old testament, the source book of insight into whatever makes your lungs breath in rhythmic to heart beating, and dying discordant disrupts the gene sequencing of inhaling and exhaling* the editors and the critics overlooking, that sit on both shoulders, are already complaining, no más, no más, no más! suture that incision, close your mouth, the unholy hours need a special silence, Ruth’s lips that move but go unheard, make no mistake, we want to listen in, voyeurs of visions but we need you broken, we need a break, from confronting the repeatedly delayed, but undeniable, the clockwork orange second coming of the ungodly hours 4:02am Sabato 4/11/20twenty new york city of lips
0
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 4:15 AM UTC
the unholy hours
a woman comes to me at 2:20am, from across the world, asking if I am that cool jew, occupant/son of the unholy hours when death and crucifixion, them two old friends, are waving temptation with both hands, never mentioning heaven, offering .99 cents of sanitized compliments, which for a fifth rate amateur writer is revolutionary, as close as you will ever come to global recognition that woman says, yes! you’re that insufferable fool whose suffering keeps us awake when he should be sleeping in the half-death state, in the unholy hours, only reporting back what he has seen across the borderline, in these times when a thousand-die-a-day daily from suffering that is uniquely human, a wracking medieval torture, granting those viral messengers, slow extra pleasure be nice to yourself for a change, write ‘bout what they want, broken love and suicide, mundane pain, keep it plain, short! easy stuff that sells records, making you not whisper words never meant to be shared, the language of the unholy hours, a dialect unique, that Google can’t quite rightly translate, for not every vision is substitutable, suitable, rated G for babies, so, keep it short like a miserable life that needs a prophecy to complete *48 hours ago thought I was infected, a glide path to rocky moon-smooth, a landing where words unique, taken away, sealing your mouth with tubed oxygen that inhibits thinking, air that might **** all of you, not just pain, but what makes you unique, your own 10 commandments of speech, the old testament, the source book of insight into whatever makes your lungs breath in rhythmic to heart beating, and dying discordant disrupts the gene sequencing of inhaling and exhaling* the editors and the critics overlooking, that sit on both shoulders, are already complaining, no más, no más, no más! suture that incision, close your mouth, the unholy hours need a special silence, Ruth’s lips that move but go unheard, make no mistake, we want to listen in, voyeurs of visions but we need you broken, we need a break, from confronting the repeatedly delayed, but undeniable, the clockwork orange second coming of the ungodly hours 4:02am Sabato 4/11/20twenty new york city of lips
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39
Trouble Troubled Troubling Which one are you today? I am that unholy trinity Three in one… a triptych of suffering Curse my name… mutter it under your breath I will merely continue until my repentance is full
0
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
Me The Triptych
Bright watchful eyes of the Unholy one Cast thy sight upon me! Bring forth the fires of Hell Bring forth the armies of Doom! I offer thee my sinful soul But one condition must be! Bestow upon me one last kiss Of a woman to thee unknown! Let me this once not suffer and moan Let me have one memory to cherish Before I into the Nether perish. Liar! Traitor! Unholy spawn of Hell! Thou betrayed my final will! I call upon the angels above Radiant and divine! To cleanse me of this curse So ravaging and malign! Bless me with thy holy light And allow me to repent! Revive my mortal soul That into Hell was sent! If only but for one moment That I could bear witness for a final time Her hair in locks, red as fine wine Let me witness and lament Let me witness Let me die Forsake me into the fires of Hades No pain shall I feel No tear shall I shed In this Plutonian realm of Death.
0
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
Unholy Plea
The middle of a pool of salt- A Eucharist is said to float. God's dignity created flesh, A sacrifice the Pope could bless If he could only find the shoes To wade inside the choking blue To pluck the body from the waves; A child the doves were slow to raise.
0
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
Beach of drowning three year olds
Transcendence into the 7th circle The emptiness a grave remembers when a funeral ends. You looked into my eyes and promised me we would douse together. Vanquish together. You forgot about me how deeply I cherished you. How could you forget. No nights moves past me where your presence refrains from haunting my thoughts. The crying of a violin in an empty vessel. You deceived the entity out of me. You writhed into my soul, quietly, but still, like the grim reaper lingering at my bed side. The snake ingesting it’s own tail. I can show you emptiness like you’ve never seen before. The hesitation to bear something. Clever in hand, you painted my throat. It spilled deeply, it spilled sweetly. A cue to the abyss. The return of the foul mouthed fool. They whispered rot. Their heads turned as they danced around my carcass. They bathed in my blood, as they felt rejoice. I’ve been worn as a pelt. I’ve been made a sap to the sickly. The raven of death gorged my eyes. The marbles that reflected my pain. I was blind. A blind sore stumbling over disparity. I ruminated into sorrow. I ripened death. I married it in a vail of red. Vows made in blood. Rebirth.
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Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 3:01 PM UTC
Rebirth
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 52 BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem On your chosen road towards your noble destiny, Your chosen road may look like a majestic peak, You may not discover the familiar path from the below, But there is consistently a possible path above the majestic peak, You naturally need to climb and see properly by yourself! On your chosen path you will typically encounter with those, Who are positively a unholy and a dear saint, each and everyone will; Naturally direct you diverging the path in many possible directions, Towards your noble destiny, if you are mystified or undoubtedly lost Then rest and hold your breath and listen politely to your noble heart! Listen carefully towards your almighty creator who heartens your dear soul, He, the specific one who certainly cause you walk, naturally make you climb; And undoubtedly discover the unknown path above the majestic peaks, Who divinely revealed the moral truth about the dear saint and wicked to you. Carefully hold your faith firm and walk towards your noble destiny. Remember keenly, every noble destiny promptly provide a direct path. And every chosen path gratefully acknowledges an ultimate end. Either it’s yours or mine! Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan. ©UT-BK 2019
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:21 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 52
Okay, It goes like this you see. 10pm, on a late thursday evening. I was sweating like a ****** in church. I grabbed my armbands and turned on the shower. It was cold as ice to the touch, but begun to warm up eventually. Thank god my wife remembered to turn the geezer on or else I was going to slap a ***** create waves of flesh on that ugly *** face of hers. Anyway. After stripping down to my birthday suit, I popped on some shampoo and spreaded that **** in my hair. Creating a burning sensation, tingly, like ants crawling in my head. Suddenly I was smacked like an unwanted child by the smell of burnt toast in the air, with the shampoo still sitting in my hair. I turned around and right before me, something was coming out of the plug hole, like something out of a b-rated horror movie. Looking like my wife's homemade cooking, **** was alive, and then it lunged at me. I tell you, if it was not for those Tom Cruise movies lecturing me in the art of total *** kicking, I would be a dead naked man with armbands in a tub, being eaten by the unholy guacamole. You gotta believe me, when I tell this story, This was not all in my head, You can't just write off what I have said. I know it must sound insane, But a mexican's lunch crawled out of the drain, I beat it's *** like a drum, like Lars Ulrich at a metallica concert , and sent the **** back down the hole it crawled out of. The devil wanted to bring me down to the deep end, It is a good thing I bought my arm bands.
0
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 7:05 PM UTC
Unholy Guacamole
Okay, It goes like this you see. 10pm, on a late thursday evening. I was sweating like a ****** in church. I grabbed my armbands and turned on the shower. It was cold as ice to the touch, but begun to warm up eventually. Thank god my wife remembered to turn the geezer on or else I was going to slap a ***** create waves of flesh on that ugly *** face of hers. Anyway. After stripping down to my birthday suit, I popped on some shampoo and spreaded that **** in my hair. Creating a burning sensation, tingly, like ants crawling in my head. Suddenly I was smacked like an unwanted child by the smell of burnt toast in the air, with the shampoo still sitting in my hair. I turned around and right before me, something was coming out of the plug hole, like something out of a b-rated horror movie. Looking like my wife's homemade cooking, **** was alive, and then it lunged at me. I tell you, if it was not for those Tom Cruise movies lecturing me in the art of total *** kicking, I would be a dead naked man with armbands in a tub, being eaten by the unholy guacamole. You gotta believe me, when I tell this story, This was not all in my head, You can't just write off what I have said. I know it must sound insane, But a mexican's lunch crawled out of the drain, I beat it's *** like a drum, like Lars Ulrich at a metallica concert , and sent the **** back down the hole it crawled out of. The devil wanted to bring me down to the deep end, It is a good thing I bought my arm bands.
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21
Death Is Her Little Unholy Friend. -- Eleanor
0
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:19 AM UTC
Death
i am unholy, i have been touched. i have felt the hands of despair, and looked into the eyes of wrath. i have formed bonds with the sloth inside me, found hope in avarice, and not once looked back. i am unholy, and can only be filled with the envy that resides deep within my bones. i am unholy, but i am not vain. there is no pride in my soul, and no soul in my body. there is nobody in the world that will hide the mark that you have left. i am unholy, i have been touched by your hands, looked into your eyes, and mistaken your lust for love. i have formed bonds with your soul, and tied myself to your ribcage. i have allowed my hope to be swallowed, and failed to question the holes being drilled into my happiness. i am unholy, but you are the devil
0
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
// a lack of purity
You were my poison and I was your cure You were rotten and I was pure It was my flower I didn't know I was the girl of the hour How could you do this? It all started with a kiss The kiss of sweet unholy death I was pure, until you took my breath It was like being caught in a downward spiral My feelings were never vital I didn't know that either He said "me neither"
0
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 8:13 PM UTC
My virginity
I have no need to label you tie a leash 'round your neck nor go buy superglue to join us at the hip I have no need to nail you to a cross I have no desire to be held accountable for your despair nor be found guilty for your conflicts no nada desire to be nailed to a cross I have no intention of being held hostage none whatsoever urge to catch you red-handed tying my name tag around your fingers, wrists miscellaneous appendages There's no bone left in my body that wants anything to do with that nonsense that shit's hazardous to your health It's enough for me to watch your sun rise over my ocean enough to read your love notes to the light of our flame enough to watch our smoke dance and curl skyward
0
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
Nailed