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Silent WonderlandAnd then the rivers did flow red. Crimson blades drawn across immortal flesh in a flawed attempt to feel again. Never-ending stories of what may never be, forced to hold one's own, and wait. Wait. Redrum and writing desks, ravens and lore, might I tell the tale of one once more? Of how the redrum spills from doG's tongue and infests the desks with written words of insects and other horrid falsities. So shall I speak of the raven's heart and what sorrows overcome impatience from within the silence? Still, silent, always quiet. Such lore within my fables, such honest words never truer to the ears of man, lost wisdom strewn about the sands of time, the sands. The grits of era, the dirt of occasion, they drag on for what seems forever. A wasteland, where fears and tears overwhelm the happiness and invade our memories like an infestation of a writing desk.
It's raining red rain from my blackened skies and the muddled waters wash away the madness within this and bring to mind a clarity of sa
I'm SickAs I sit in darkness I feel its cold breath within me, burning my insides with its icy fire.
It’s not warm like a flame should be. It’s a contradiction. It’s unnatural. It makes me
nervous. It hurts. I trail shaky fingers over my bruised skin—it wants out again.
Unnatural. But really, what is natural? What is the definition of something one might
consider normal? It most certainly cannot be this beast within me. I cannot decipher now
between it and I. We are one yet we are two. Two that sometimes is one and one that
sometimes is two. One. Two. Two. One.
Rage. It’s always there but now it burns cold in the front of my mind as well as the
back. My subconscious is diseased with inhuman instinct and my consciousness is
becoming sick. It’s a plague.
I’ve opened the doors to famine.
The Insane The raven whispered of such sweet madness I could not protest the taste. In acceptance with the hell bird, I walked along the red, sugar coated cobblestone. Such delicious slaughter at my feet, such succulent flesh strewn down my path—but to taste would be a sin, it said, and so shall I thirst forever.
The delightful stench of rot and butchery did exasperate my senses. Such delectable, thick, puddles of luscious flesh that only continued to deepen in their sopping mess. I despised that damned, blackened soul, forever at my side—I'd one day hope to taste its putrid, sinful insides.
The wicked things I'd love to do to you, my sweet little raven. To end your perverted whispers so I may savor of this sickening path once more. Oh, the nasty, disgusting, abhorrent things I might do to your cadaver with these teeth of this immortal lie—To twist your feathered neck until you die…
These poisoned thoughts seeped from my h
Cursed The blackened fur of the devil's pet, festered before me. It smelled of putrefying meat and feces. Its flesh was falling from its cursed bones. I looked away—I was ashamed. Was this the beast I was to become? I returned my gaze to the obscene creation that still breathed through a sewn mouth. It's black, rigid horns curled sharply, only to penetrate the creature's skull.
Its clouded eyes watched me without movement. I didn't like this. I hated this. I turned to run but there, before me, was the beast. I looked behind me where it had once stood but it had vanished. It was mocking me. "You think you can scare me!" I shouted loudly at the thing, unaware if it could understand me or not. "You think you can make me change my ways?" I laughed at it, angry with its assumptions. "I know what I am to become, you foolish demon—I know this immortal soul is damned." I hissed angrily.
It was then that the beast cocked its rancid head, disturbing the stench that r
Mirror, MirrorMirror, mirror, on the wall,
Watch it crumble, break and fall.
Look at all the bloody glass,
How it reminds them of a severed past.
Watch a reflection slowly disappear,
Looking at all the shattered, crushed mirrors.
A breathless state of mind goes by,
Am I just alive or did I die?
Confused and in an awe,
Careless people unknown to what one saw.
Throat slit so one can't be unlocked,
Too bad the thoughts have become blocked.
Crimson splatters, dripping, breaking away,
Thou shall not know the feeling of all the pain.
Oh, Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Why did you crumble, break and fall?
ode to youif you ever asked me
to describe it,
i would tell you how
you spin my thoughts into poetry,
compose my heartbeats into music,
how your lighthouse presence
beckons me to a home
within your smile.
if you ever asked me
to write it,
i would write my fingers bloody
with all the words
that could have come between us,
all the conversations
that skirted past unspoken,
all the poems
that i should have surrendered.
if you ever asked me
to show it,
i would love your heart till it's raw,
your joints till they no longer creak,
your tears till they dry,
your bruises till they fade,
the whites of your eyes
till the bloodshot veins
fade into milky bliss,
your irises till they lose all dreary grayness,
and your pupils till they tire no more of the sunlight,
till they tire no more of me.
if you ever asked me
to prove it,
i would recite the thought-poems
that you spun
and play the heartbeat sonatas
that you composed.
i would paint you an ocea
No Breathing AloudHave you ever felt like...
their empty sorrows
Was showering over You
From a heavy cloud ?
What will we do ?
If we can't breathe,
Rotting inches beneath
They haunt me in my sleep,
Like monsters they are locked up
In my closet
I can hear them through blocked ears
Their suffocated cries...
As their lungs die
Everywhere I go...
They taunt me
I know I'm breaking
they know it too
"Why are you smothering us?"
Their lungs choked down in their
I don't remember his name
He asks ...
"Who are they?"
"The ones who torment your mind"
Can't you see
They are me...
They are me
those Who cry out for help,
Because deep down
This world has rotten my oxygen
And squeezed out my last breath,
Leaving my lungs for death...
and now I cry soundlessly
for an eternity
on waking up and growing olderwhispers succumb to the
whirl-away winter drifts
as frozen fingers t n l
a g e
signaling the end of
a child's rationality.
the grownups call it
but we really do
i met you in our
world torn free of yesterdays,
and far beyond tomorrows.
the sky was a blanketed
white, spreading over our
star-fields and moon-rays.
as i took your hand,
we cried tears in
laughing all the while.
i woke up.
how to be a writertravel. travel to
12 different countries.
write about to the ones
you've never been to.
fall in love.
fall in hate.
fall in crippling
drink cheap coffee
live off caffeine
and cafes with
question everything and
everyone. never be a
sellout nor trust a soul
with your words.
be a disappointment.
dispirit everyone and
no one because you'll
never be good enough.
dream about fantastical
places filled with wonder.
twist them into nightmares
with raging beasts and cruelty.
never be happy.
rip apart your work.
love something then
loathe it back.
cry about your regrets
to anyone who won't
listen and ignore those
write about the same
person ad nauseum so
you become a wrinkle
in time instead.
find a way to make
everything more dramatic.
be a hypocrite, go against
your beliefs. deny it.
listen to shitty music.
claims it's your muse.
your soul. truly abore
it's existence in your privacy.
do not care to
Stop Staring at My TeethDearest Marie, I have returned.
No more the poor man whom you spurned,
Though poorer looking, your love I earned.
Please stop staring at my teeth.
Lovely woman with gentle hands,
Think not of savage New World lands.
No one in this village understands.
And please stop staring at my teeth.
The cold leaves me distressed
And yet I labor without rest.
How could you be further blessed?
So stop staring at my teeth.
They are different, as am I,
But do not bother asking why.
Just go make me a pie,
And stop staring at my teeth!
Greedy woman, do not take
The choicest morsels that you bake
For this Hunger makes me shake.
Oh please, stop staring at my teeth.
My sweet, I urge you to dismiss
The copper tang left by my kiss.
It was no one you would miss,
So why keep staring at my teeth?
you've been dead for a year, my deari met you on december 21st,
the longest night of the year.
you had solstice eyes: cold, dark, alluring.
i knew you were not meant to last,
powerful as a gale but fragile as
the tulip stems you snapped,
a sickening cycle of you,
an overwhelming tidal wave.
they say two wrongs will never make a right,
but i made so many bad choices that
i wound up back where I began.
it was too easy to love you,
but getting you to love me back was impossible.
i clawed at your chest until I struck blood,
until my nails split into shards.
you were born a phantom,
and i, your corpse.
holding onto you felt like drowning in quicksand;
i fought but always sank into your arms.
i breathed in dirt, breathed in dust, and
found my organs choked with you,
smothered by your existence.
you sucked out my breath
every time i kissed you.
i died every day with your hand
knotted in my hair.
You left on june 21st,
the longest day of the year.
i bit down sorrow and deconstructed
the labyrinth within me,
the one you hadn't th
Anorexic173 lbs -I am filled with self hate
157 lbs -I will be beautiful at this rate
136 lbs Youll see, just wait
90 lbs - Now its too late
79 lbs -Show me to heavens gate
51 lbs - My final weight
Ill soon be dead, but Im beautiful right?
we're all drunk and always have beenno
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because i don't breathe poetry in
and out -
and out -
i write it under my eyebrows
with the precision
of a drunk sniper
toasted into admission
with irony s-st-tutter-ering
down his throat.
you wouldn't take a damned bullet for me.
beautiful is a word kept
for the rise
of her tidal chest,
not my shallow breath,
not my sunset, heartfelt,
i would have disappeared
between your accusing index and
neglected thumb -
don't you feel calmer?
i haven't felt smaller than this
i haven't felt smaller than this before
and it could be
because you found a home between
her stroking index and
comforting thumb -
i haven't forgotten,
no, i still remember
now twenty two penumbrae in the past
didn't stop me
in one of several crevasses
at the bottom of your oceanic mind;
you may have forgotten,
and slept in
on the details,
but i haven't,
HateYour ignorant fingertips turn the pages of my soul as if you deem the words they whisper as true. The taste of your assumptions is bitter and the spit from my mouth has turned to poison. Black waters deep with hate and disgust seep from these lips and the desire to drown you in my sins is potent.
Silver mirrors with false reflections are tainted red with a thirst for your mortality. This crimson gaze stained and soiled falls from the heavens and is damned to look upon you. Odium, abhorrence, revulsion, hatred! Insufferable this punishment I am to carry for what was sentenced an eternity!
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
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