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  Sep 2 Psychosa
Heather
I hate when the tears won’t come
the dead pain grinds inside
but the tears just won’t come

I’m deserted…
even by sorrow
Psychosa Aug 13
You are the seeds of Persephone.
When I look at you,
My soul bleeds with desire.

Without you,
I starve.
Tempted by you,
my mouth parched,
I close my eyes and devour you.

Each bite I take bounds me to your underworld.
Here I suffer.
Here I am alone.
… but here I have you.
So devour me.

For I would rather suffer with you
in an endless netherworld
Than to be quenched by another.
Psychosa Aug 6
I am a piece of glass.

a glass that has been shattered time and time again,
losing a piece of me with every new bash/
a remnant of what I once was.

If you try to put me back together, the world will never look the same,
for
I
am
shattered.

If you try to put me back together,
you need to remember that I am a broken piece of glass,
you will hurt yourself if you hold me in your hand,
and then I will hurt you more.

Don't hold too tight,
but don't let go.

Looking at the world through me may be hard.
I have fallen so many times that I am mere piece of myself now.
Me as your lens of the world would be small and stained.
But then again, I can show you the world.


If you try to find yourself in me,
you need remember
that I am not a mirror,
but a hollow thing where you can never be reflected.

It's a lonely existence.

I am a barrier yet I am a transporter.

You will never know

I am transparent.
If you want to find inside, you can see right through me.
But do not be deceived, for I am empty.

But with all this,
I am a piece of glass.
I am fragile;
I can be broken,
so please handle with care.
Psychosa Aug 4
To speak a word
Is not to feel a word.
To write a line of poetry
Is to feel what cannot be spoken.
For when a word is spoken,
It is taken to our common realm.
But art is to take us
Beyond the realm
Over Which logos rules.
Poetry is a transporter of the soul.
Poetry is the Charon,
Not of the living
But of those whose heart is dead in this cold world.
For Hades is not below us,
But within us.
Psychosa Jul 31
It is the soul that is asleep,
and the body simply follows.

I find my soul only in the realm of darkness,
so I close my eyes
to put my soul at ease,
in its home
of oblivion.
Psychosa Jul 30
I’m falling asleep again.
Can you feel my heart?
All I can feel is its weight…
It’s so heavy.
Whenever I try to get up,
It pushes me down further.
Why can’t I wake up?
This demon of death
Lies atop me,
****** my soul.

Release Me!
Release me, demon.

It’s getting hard to breathe.
Demon of death,
Take me or leave me.
But I cannot Stay
asleep.
Psychosa Jul 23
This skin is not mine own.
For it will remain ,
When I am gone.
This skin is my home
For my time here.
Did I choose this skin,
Or did this skin choose me ?
I am plagued by own existence.
But is it even my own?
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