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Tucker Mulder May 15
Consultation With The Grim Reaper
Omniscient being of death
I seek thy comfort and solace
Melancholy monotony of days to come
Arrival of whispering entities
Speaking to me of vices and arrogance
Acting amongst their wishes of woe
A quandary of life and death
Heaven nor Hell will free me
From my soul draining enslavement
False deities tug at the rope tied at my neck
Dragging me to their individual hell
I worship only the black reaper
Save me from my ill fortune
I wish to consult the most high
Bring to me the power to take away
The death scythe gives lacerations to my flesh
Pouring salt into my burnt irreparable wounds
A broken heart incapable of penance
Mistakes forsaken by Thoth
It is time to seek my father Death
Pass down to me your robe of mire
The charnel of screaming
My new sacral burial ground
The skin on my body turns to bone and dust
A faceless and lifeless cloaked figure
Bereavement of what once was
Fortunes of unforeseen death
Become the purpose of my null existence
Eradicate the false ideology of hope
To declare a former soul deceased
Endless visions of sorrowful memories
Beaten and whipped by the angels above
I loathe the inescapable eternity to come
ash May 14
i don't like being stared at,
or glorified,
or looked at like i'm just a showpiece—
almost like a mannequin?
like i'm supposed to do your bidding,
or abide by your ideals.

i don't like being looked at
the way one would look—
when they're judging you for the smallest of hook,
the tiniest of details.
no, you're just aggravating—
there's nothing romantic about that stare.

kinda like—
the difference between being seen
and just looked at on the surface.
what is wrong with my brain,
why can't you seem to judge that?

i wouldn't despise it
if you were to give me the longing glances,
or the ones filled with care,
the kind where i know
they wouldn’t just drift top to bottom—
like fingers on a shiny sphere.

don't objectify me.
i know my worth,
even though i forget it sometimes.
it's a vulnerability
i intend to show.

i’m not the prettiest—
that still doesn't give you the right to know.
i hold the discomfort,
i hold my identity.
feels like shattering,
the moment a wrong glance or a finger
touches any part of my skin.

it's complex.
i don't think you'll understand it.
i'm a human—
not a model,
not an art piece
held up for judging.

you know they’d look at the one you love
the way you do at me right now,
when i tend to swerve.
the severity of it— you wouldn’t know.
what it's like to be criticised,
judged,
given looks everywhere you go.

i still don't understand
why i face them.
more than half come from lust,
and barely a few from the place of love.

i don't shake hands,
afraid of what i’ll touch,
what you’ll feel—
and later think about.
god, i shiver at the mere thought.
too much.

i could be worshipped,
held by the right hands,
but the wrong eyes,
and the wrong views—
they almost always
**** up this land.

can't walk,
can't talk,
can't laugh,
can't show.

if i'm to exist like a stone,
why can't i hurl back
and simply clone
all that you’ve done
and all that you’ve said?

i've got those stares creeping up my skin,
like slithering worms underneath my shin,
smothering me from the inside, like being smoldered in heat.
i feel like i might melt, or worse, fade away into nothing.
perhaps it wouldn't be so bad of a choice, if i'm to disappear.
for it is this feeling that sears, within and carries a scream.
sheer mockery, provided the serenity with which you return that gaze.
i hate you, i hate each one of you that's made me feel bare,
and not the way i'd want to be emotionally with the one whom i hold tender,
but the way— the way— the way—

oh please, let me just disappear.

don’t look at me
if you only wish
to see me as an object.
Debbie May 14
Mind of ice
yet a heart of fire.
To say I'm numb,
I'd be a liar.
Cold thoughts
in a broken world.
Yet warm yearnings,
a dreaming heart.
Deep proof of passion.
Proof, half frozen
you can still be alive.
Need to prove to myself I still swell with life.
Dylan A May 12
I shouldn’t have opened the box,

because Hope was forced to hope for all evil.


I shouldn’t have checked to see if the cat was dead or alive;

it wasn’t—the hammer didn’t hit—but it starved to death.


I shouldn’t have replaced all my ship’s parts,

now I have two, but the original is still broken.
Salwa May 11
It flew away.
I stood there, helpless—awfully aware
Of how close I was to the edge of despair.
I watched the wind steal the thread
I had held onto for so long with my bare hands.

My eyes darted across the scene,
The red thread dancing with the wind.
I turned,
Tried to catch it,
Or at least follow its traces
To find what I did wrong—

Only to see the ground crack beneath me.
The once peaceful house,
Burnt to ash.
Windows broken,
Wood burning,
Smoke rising—
Damage that can’t be restored.

Memories escape
With every last breath the house takes,
With every curl of smoke, every scattered trace.

It flew away—
The last bit of hope I had.
All I owned, burnt to ash.
The dreams I had now seem so small.
I lost myself
In the name of saving what I love..
But was it ever mine to hold?
-s
For the moments when holding on feels heavier that letting go.
Aaron Beedle May 9
Just one breath,
of unpublished air.
One organic despair.
One step to repair
my damaged window.
My misled gaze.
My programmed eating,
ate my days.

One word to pull me
from my habit
While I claw at the walls
like a mindless rabbit.
Trapped in my whole
endless war, an
obligation
to my spirit
drowning in
the need within it.
I'm drowning in
the human image,
the crafted icons
and social spillage.

I search for rescue
in nail-scratched writings
in the wall of the cell
I've spent my life in.
A M Ryder Apr 28
You all have
A little bit of
"I want to save the world!"
In you

I just want you to know
That it's ok
If you only save
One person
And it's okay
If that person
Is you
White Owl Apr 25
My mind is still dull and dimmed with fog
From a recent string of sleepless nights,
But coffee and breakfast have done me good.
The sky bears no clouds and my vision is bright.

The itching stripes underneath my sleeves
Are fading to pink as they start to repair.
Those hours in Hell which then felt eternal
Are now a mere slash on a calendar square.

A quiet, bright jingling rings in my ears
With each steady pace into this new day,
As hung on a chain 'round my neck swings a pendant
Stamped with the words, "MEMENTO VIVERE."
Apr '25

Memento vivere is a latin phrase meaning "remember to live."
Wandering - through the deserts storm
For the breath - is mischievous - craving
"I comply" - prayer's false - sinks in flesh
Blissful kiss - lullabies' pace - is uneven
    Edging of dunes
    Under wind - martyr sings
    Primal scent - salty lips
    Shudder thrills - tracing hands
    Hips endow - shaking
        Drugged - with a truth
        In an oath - for the witness
        Sand is warm - reason thralled
        "Do forgive me"
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