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"writh" poems
All through my head Whilst i writh in bed I was more comfortable Back when We would start fires Lay in lie Smoke forts misfortune Charred torched remains
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Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
Over my head
You stare with amazement As my heart writh & quiver at your feet I point a shaking finger at it While i continued to bleed I saw tears gathering in your eyes But you were hasty to turn your back to me To wipe them away Though im weak, i saw it all You turn your head over your shoulder To have a one last glance When you left me on my knees The burdened heart which lost its nourishment, Seeked its peace
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Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 8:58 AM UTC
Bleeding heart
I co me in li ke a se rpent: clos ed tight and long, writh ing imp er cep tib ly wi th in my se l f
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Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 4:52 PM UTC
in
keep coming, keep going you're holding me back while you complain to your friends about all he lacks can't you see that your savage? though you may call it 'normal' presents and praise are not arousal let friendship surpass interest and extend outward with growth your life is not a picture, it is a sacred oath: fear my love, no- it doesn't lack feeling but it comes with a treasure a single meaning. Do not fear the contamination of your captivity- survive the encompassing mind. Or writh and reel that you cannot feel- cannot keep up with me Turn the wheel like me ******* and the glasses Of wine. Wasting their ******* time. In what they thought was Love.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
last night, fight
Strangers parade all around in their undying masks of hidden souls carrying on with their secret souls, not seeing who any one can really be. They move so shadowed their figures distort in bluring mimic of blind movements, so cloaked and over bearing the shadows presense, they blend to be one emassive culmenation of hidden secrets the world hides them before they themselves can. The distortions, so blindly obscure by their unrational wits, writh as their unbearablely clandestine futures draw closer to an edged madness as their undying silence takes over. Their black fates are met with a silent nothing which destroys all fact, all fiction, and all reality.
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
Paper Faces on Parade
Stir straw my gripe berries of writh while Tae do drinks wedges for tumorrow. do, Do, definkate times 5 else numb, burrrr, 2 it's cold drop whate doo doo merrilies.
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Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
whurds
Isolation slowly starves away a man's mind gnawing away at what he holds dear the flooding room fills as he gasps for breath praying for a pocket deeper down he sinks to the darker depths In his chest sharp blades writh like snakes his heart beat thuds like a heavy hammer relentlessly ringing in his ears pulsating pressure like a serpents coil crushes cracks and breaks his brittle body only the pain prevents him from drifting a hazy blur blackens his vision as silently his screams bubble away In one more breath his futile fight finishes. When suddenly a deathly peace penetrates like the shock after a plunge into an icy pool as a feint flicker of light shines he drifts towards his final hope
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Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
Slowly sinking
Take me To the moon Where I can Wallow in pain As I Contemplate My solidarity; Take me To the sun Where I Can writh In pain As I watch The world Revolve around me For once; Take me To the galaxy As I breathe My final breath I'll be smiling Knowing I Was part Of your sweetest Surrender.
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Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
Untitled
In desolate places, I leave all my faces. The masks and disguises, construction of lies. The spotlight of fear, my delight and dimise. As curtains close, applause fades, alone with the shadows of self that pervades. Ghosts of the past, that once were true. Withered and lost, in my daily debut. To please and to pleasure, a pointless measure. Unable to escape, I'm asleep but awake. I wriggle and writh in my own divide, tearing apart from depths deep inside. Empty halls and vacant seats, angels and demons fatefully meet. Crimson flows as roses fall, the closing act as curtains call. My death is rebirth, the dove and the crow, a final bow at the end of my show.
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Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 10:32 AM UTC
The Finale