Within these four walls
I befriend the darkness
and my shadow is
no longer an ally.
Fifty-three minutes
and twenty-seven seconds
later
I burst into
broken butterflies' wings
and deafening screams
to keep the light away.
"Solitude is bliss."
but I find my
disturbia and bravado
*within these four walls.

His heavy arms and swollen fingers,
Can't reach for her love's lingers
No matter how he use those saved hours,
Their remains will soon be devoured..

The caressing sound made by the pouring rain
Admonishes his heart and soul of their reign
Through things that dignifies his solitary sane
That wasn't tranquility although diminishes the pain...

He was badly mistaken for what it brings..
They feed on his flesh, those hungry things..
Evenly, his dear love was melting as she sings
The anthem of the missing wedding rings..

The cries of their aspiration moaned like the wind..
Their intervening fate befalls how they have sinned..
Preaching the words of the forgiveness seen,
Judgement is already been fulfilled and serene..

It was the day when the pews were burned..
The day when the prisoner gained what he earned
The pair will be forced to embrace maledict of the lorn.
Together they will turn to ashes, sealed in urns.

don't you ever doubt it
you have my purest feeling
I've fallen from your lips
I've seen the depts of your pupile
and I thought I was the greatest misanthropist
until I found you

I saw a raindrop fall,
Right on my windowpane.
I gave him a name,
Called him Fred,
Pretended he was my little friend.
But his life was short-lived;
Soon he fell-
Never to live again.
It made me think, though,
My little Fred.
How short is time-
How singular;
Just one short thread.
One short line,
Crossing other raindrops,
Picking up speed,
Racing through life,
Never taking heed of those before.
How silly is this?
Such clipped life-
Crisp.
Hmm-
Silly Misanthropist.

denizen of the Internet's darkest corner
surfacing momentarily to spew vitriolic
misogyny before disappearing once more
returning to whatever hell you call home

warmer hearts than mine
might muster the compassion
to show you a kindness
**** like you neither
appreciate nor deserve

but not me
i will not tear you
limb-from-limb
regardless of the
sick fantasies i
treasure in my brain

no
i'll meet you in
this abyss and cut
you to pieces with
a tongue sharper
than any sword
until you fall upon
my words like the
shameful craven and
dishonorable coward
that you are

you fancy yourself
a misanthropist but
you didn't create
the darkness you
merely inherited
it from me

you're a putrescent infant
nursing your enmity and harboring
hatred for yourself above
all else and it's not
difficult to see why

chauvinist pig
slave to a hyper-masculine ego
the rhetoric you spit is
simultaneously solipsistic
self-contradictory and self-defeating
you've backed yourself into a corner
your throat is the open grave in which
i will bury you alive

i only wish there was a devil who might
give you an eternity of the attention
you crave but i'll suffice to be the one to
pull the noose tight and watch with
mirth as you kick and spin and gasp
and shudder and splutter for breath
your flesh goes blue and your eyes
roll back into your skull searching for a
brain turned to mush
riddled with maggots

and on the day that you
lie dormant and friendless
paralyzed on your deathbed
i will be the loneliness
reminding you that you got
just what you deserve

don't **** with my best friend

She, she is a ******* of the spoken word.
Words of reassurance are given with a smile.
She does prostitution, when she sells her words for wages.
She's really a misanthropist, she likes no human beings.
At work, she sparkles and grins, all  day,a staged act.
Until her pen can play again.
She says,"there, there, it will be alright, but there are no guarantees".
Compassion pays her wages, its such a sad affair.
She rather likes her job, but wants to stay at home.
She's paid for care eternally, but her love is given free.
Livvi

Followed By a Bundle of YUTZ!!
The Buck Stops Here!

Beheading the Primary Misanthropist

Welcoming the din above the gnashing

Finding their page jejune and complete hyperbole!

Though they gallivant aimlessly

The pits of suffrage well up and bed

in my soul!