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Tim Buggy Dec 2015
give me something you know I'll break,
tempt me with a toxic toy I'll tell myself to play with,
until it's sides are broken and bruised,
and you'll find me on the highest shelf,
dented, a disaster crying for a new devil to destroy me.
where did this come from?
Tim Buggy Oct 2015
Nobody feels the same way,
Although we all feel sore,
With our unique cuts and bruises,
Scratching the cold surface, begging for an end.

Everyone's head is throbbing,
Overwhelmed by too little or too much,
Sailing a broken boat in their own troubled waters,
Searching for a pill customised to their inflictions.
Tim Buggy Aug 2015
I needed air,
A reminder of how small I was,
So I climbed to the highest point I could,
Watched the sky's spectrum travel around me,
Witnessed a bright moon stare at me through pink blurs,
Like a caring mother watching over her children,
And felt cold air soothe my broken head,
Until all the dead nightmares emptied my mind.
I actually did climb to my roof to write this
Tim Buggy Aug 2015
creepy little crawlers,
they have the audacity to push their slimy feelers on me,
i can already smell the stench from miles away,
their vile oil infested goo can stay away from my skin,

if only you were a creepy little crawler,
then I could squeeze your insides out,
mash your pathetic body into pulp,
but my chain is still too tight for me to run,
so I'll let you ooze yourself onto me.
yeah alright
Tim Buggy Aug 2015
Hands are already emerging from the darkness,
I can see mysterious new silhouettes grasping their next target,
Their touch on my skin is inevitable,
All I can do is embrace it.

Some will be cold and painful,
Nothing but sore, knotted stomachs,
A bandaged brain and fatigued mind,
All I can do is embrace it.

Some will be soft and warm,
Easing the aches and sores from the vicious claw marks yet to appear,
A temporary beacon of light that will guide me along a broken path,
All I can do is embrace it.
I don't fully know what this is about to be honest but I like it anyway
Tim Buggy Jul 2015
after a few mouthfuls,
masks are grown from harsh liquids,
they soften our muscles,
ease our aches,
lead us to believe that strangers are soul mates,
lets dance,
while we all embrace our artificially composed friends.
bit sad
Tim Buggy Mar 2015
Squinting eyes in the pale sunlight
Does not give me the freedom to know that I'm warm

Loud noises and bitter drinks
Make me numb but not happy

Because knowing that hole is still there,
That void that I cannot bare,
Is waiting to be full of something I'm afraid others cannot digest.
Had a moment of poetic inspiration and put this together
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