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Jonathan Noble Aug 2013
Cast down, rejected, born one lonely,
Surrounded by crowds bathed in love
Never touching sordid soul so unholy,
Encoffined in dark, no light from above.

This prison is mine, and I despair alone,
And comes no mercy on wings of wind,
Nor calls my beloved in passion's tone
To loose my bonds and heart remend.

Will weeping sound and love be given
To the life-gone man who lies in state;
Affection enfold the cursed of heaven,
And on cold lips offered kiss too late?
Stanton Davy Jan 2017
Tell me in which disillusioned state
could I've felt so low and desperate to churn
the waves of my troubles
like adding liquor to a flame, hoping for
something sweeter.

Nonetheless all still burning, withering
perplexed, shocked colors, bruises held
a personal lake of fire
Wilting, trying to hold on,
of wanton faith in unconditional surrender

My heart, resonating the troubles from my soul
from neglect through and through
had I realized in its absence
was the duty to myself.

Heavy of holding mirrors that pointed towards your the sun,
I sat still beneath its encoffined shadow.

This must be the lingering breaths of an eclipsed moon.
Steph Portuguez Jan 2020
Creepy princess wore a crown that resembled my decay, she'll maintain the throne, a sensual manner, my queen, your slave.

Wet motel what dimension are you at? Pink ******* against the smudgy glass, a moisture so tastable I've been drained, I'm sensing the gush, litter of ants have sprouted quite slow. Meaningly thankful, good I couldn't feel the love, sure I found you in passion, the senses were restored.

Delusional you expressed yourself as, I felt mesmerized a total conquest, I surrendered as your domain. We both clayed the illusion of togetherness, over magnification of the premature bond. Boredom you gained, I bathed in burden, so overwhelmed.

You desired my feet to press your lips. My converse worn out, the odor of my sweaty socks. Precious biological function, your underground low. A portrait from me with love.

Wet motel did it ever even exist? Planned  words and actions are now sensually extinct. Wet white t-shirts, fervid rat holes they're giving us everlasting goosebumps.

A pale palette, Effy Stonem's eyes, attitude of a raccoon and unicorn stamped in stripes. My primary blush was the result of it all. The exaggerated adoration needed a reload. A wished improvement in the construction of a fabled globe, high speed typing and glitter all over this keyboard. I rejoice to these weary dawns. I've made you my own and added some more.

Wet Motel did you open the gates to Hades? The provocation of your pelvis revoked the doubts, straight now to quaint lane. My bell was encoffined, you rang it, rang it so abruptly. The now pagan summons the lonesome. The so very  lonely.

The vibrations invaded the shelf. The television drops and cracks as myself. My erectile lump started to pulsate, you roofless creep grab the T.V and lean, or  please just  leave. The asleep volcano it's about to erupt and finish bewitched.

Wet Motel when did your ghosts start attending the night? Were we deceased as we walked by? Could have I existed somewhere between her thighs? I executed my delusions, you impressed me with your spare time. It shouldn't be genuine, It is not. I fabricated the words you wrote back, you put a stellated rainbow with your vague expectation. The vain sentence was sent, although I ain't felt it my ablaze passion remains. As for you, the forgetting is in the back door, I'll keep my key, I have also stolen yours. Quite a dismal end, of my arousal, of our play pretend.

— The End —