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There is blood in my mouth,
liquid steel from sharp words that are cut from my teeth and flicked out of my mouth by my tongue.
My throat is literally drowning from words my brain produces
but cannot stop from throwing forth;
my mind producing thoughts like a steam train on a new track.
Clickety, Clack. Clickety, Clack.
And i thought different,
of you.
But my teeth are bruised from speaking to you,
my air pushing from my lungs, to give me breath to speak to you,
is death and rotten, it is done with you,
and, me.
There is blood in my mouth,
it dries around my lips and cracks open
everytime i breathe.
Sometimes i wish you had just hit me with your words,
that the cartilage under my nose had cracked
from the force your words threw at me,
that there was a full outward combustion
and it ran down my face,
dripped off my chin and left the building.
My brain keeps thowing these punches,
left, right, under, left, dive, hook, run,
and i am losing this battle, that began a fight,
that i never began
that i never wanted in the first place,
but there is now blood in my mouth
And i need to mop this **** up
and start again...
your pretty as sliver
on a dime

your ways on fire
for that i admire

i would bring you flowers
every hour

for this i might be crazy
but your my dazzy

i  would nurse you back to heath
or bury you in my wealth

your aways kind
you  blow my mind

your my best fine
your sweeter than wine

your prefect at thowing a dart
into my heart

your last breath
would be my death
wayne mockler Feb 2019
The  modern slave  

We al stand and cheer with every  life we see always helping others and making sure love and life  comes to all those who wait.  Live is life is everything but hope is hard to find  while the man walks down a ragged road earning every penny  pushing his  hands down the  ***** pit  of life.
A woman walks into the despair of  work and sees  a  life of slavery in every respect  working for a poor wage and down by a manager that loves ttheri money and power of sitting and thowing their hands about  and mouth opens uttering words  of of anger   and hate.  the woman works her  shift  and  and falls onto a   bed of exaustion abd ready for  night to end and day to begin  another  miserable  pit of salve  at the  shop of hell.
A couple walk in  to the  hell of  hope and look around with their gold rings and  smile of  greed while they look around at the poor souls  of despair working  for a  whip of  greed. The couple  walks towards their  big limousine  and thow the odd change at the beggar across the road and inot  the car back to their manson of love and money of cold to sit back and laugh at the worlds misfortune  of life.

produced and written by wayne mockler
copyright wayne mocker
I watched
A short video
And it
Made me
Want to
Go to
Heaven
It made me
See that
You were
Right
In thowing me
In the ocean
So maybe now
I should
Just read
The Bible
And pray
Because
Even if you
Ignore me
God won't.
I wanted to go to heaven before but now i want to even more.
philosophy Jan 2020
He said nothing of her as there was nothing to be said.
          She was unremarked upon because she was unremarkable in every way.
          Her hair was bland, coloured and styled as every girl her age, her makeup done so as to make her features as indistinguishable as possible from all the others. Her attire was inorganic as well, and even the chains around her neck and wrists were standard.
          She lived in a void, not blanketed in the darkness of ignorance, nor in any particular hue of morality, but instead covered by a blinding white mist. It clouded her judgement like a film across her eyes, obscuring all colours and turning them a hazy grey. It was a mixture of every idea ever conceived, every judgement ever placed, every mercy every extended, every war ever started, and every life ever ended.
          She was inoffensive in every way, and whenever a flaw was found in her, she laboured the sweatless work or removing that part of her and thowing it to the ravenous void.
          Eventually all of her would be erased, and she longed for the perfection of her new body, given and created, of and by, the void.
          She was close, so close, and was otherwise indistinguishable from the milky air she clothed herself in, her form vapour-like and pale itself.
          She discarded her own name and carved upon herself a new one, the only thing left that she had chosen for herself.

          "Philosophy"

— The End —