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TEN PILLSThe first pill
The normal dose
Enough to take the edge off of everyday life
Enough to satisfy the demons from ripping me apart from the inside out
But the thing about demons is, they are greedy
Eventually they want more
The second pill
Just a little extra to try and sooth this broken heart
See, when you left me, my world crumbled into little pieces of memories
They slowly fell like ashes in a nuclear winter
The third pill
The demons want more
Your love for me was the barrier holding them back
Now that your gone, the damn has broke
Demons are poring in like millions of mindless zombies searching for a life to devour
And it seems they have found one
The fourth pill
You… my angel
My soothing light shining through a hole in my black canvas of life
has given up on me
I can’t see the hole anymore
The light is gone
My way out is no longer visible
I’m in darkness
The fifth pill
Fuck it, lets keep going!
The sixth pill
This one is for every time I could feel you fucking him
Upon My Last BreathIs the loss of love worth gaining death?
I ask this question upon my last breath
As the pulse of life fades to dark
Peace arises in this tortured heart
Confessing weakness in my cowardly choice
The pain is gone as I hear your voice
Depression is lost as I see your face
I close my eyes and feel your embrace
So warm, so comforting, this moment of bliss
Everything fades as I feel your last kiss
Although I know you're really not there
I leave with a smile in this moment we share
Is the loss of love worth gaining death?
I answer with "yes" upon my last breath
Rise of the unspoken words,
Filling your head.
They burst into existence,
In the form of emotional combat.
Hints are subtle.
Allegations are stirring.
Assumptions are vibrant.
What's left to be known?
Everything that was never said.
A Conversation PieceThe old gas lamp juts out from the living room wall
Empty of life, empty of its purpose,
Original in its old, ornate shades of antiquity
Clashing with the new color, concealing the walls age
The lamp stays so silent, so still, with its story so secret
Its old soul lines its way through the house.
What has it seen?
What moments has it put its light upon?
What shadows has it cast on opposing walls?
What tears have glimmered in its lively glow?
What did it look like with its spirit illuminating the night?
This new age may never know,
For its only use now…
Is a conversation piece
One Last TimeMy soul is now alone.
Diminished to a point of then and now.
I no longer feel your fervent touch.
I no longer can enjoy the
Delicate breeze of your breath on my chest
As we lay awake at night.
I no longer smell the scent of your hair
As it lingers in the air when you walk by. My eyes
No longer gaze at your beauty.
I glance to nowhere, hoping
To see you one last time.
One last time is all I wanted, in hopes
It will make you change your mind.
One last time, to make your soul blind with love.
To make it so my soul is whole again.
No longer with you, is the thought I must bare.
One last time is a dream I must let go.
Shattered, My Tortured HeartShattered
By the still, crisp, words.
They rattle silently in my
Mind. Conjured by the truth,
I wish was a lie. Deceived by
The closeness. Now hatred
Flows, like an avalanche crushing
Helpless hearts. Drugged by the
Past, pleasured by perfect lies.
Love hardens to a cold steel blade,
But it can't cut the
Tension that tourniquets
My tortured heart.
Nothing to FearAs black as a moonless night,
Is the color that caresses its skin,
Lime green eyes opened wide
Pierce through the paralyzing dark,
Like two holes punched in a curtain trying to hide the day.
Wearing a coat that shimmers and shines in the ambient light,
You can only see a reflection of its movement.
Claws made to tear flesh from fearing souls.
Porcelain white teeth ready to rip skin from bones,
Inviting the stains of blood from the bleeding.
Capable of a hiss that could put fear in the face of death.
As silent as a bludgeoned prayer laying in its grave
Ready to pounce on its powerless prey,
Fearless of reality, so aware of its surroundings,
And as I turn on the light, I hear it speak...
The WhisperHe slowly leans in towards her
He brushes her hair behind her ear
So he can get a better view of her beauty
He looks into her eyes and pauses
Just long enough for her to wonder what's about to happen
He leans in for a kiss
But he only brushes by her lips
He continues towards her ear
She feels his delicate breath on her cheek
Then he whispers in the ear he so thoughtfully exposed
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen"
She melts and is now his to have
SuffocateYour finger's bent and broken
Now it's pointing at yourself
But you look behind you
As if it's pointing to someone else
The mirror you gaze in
Is smeared with tears
It distorts your beauty
And shows you what's really inside
But you close your eyes
You smile so brightly
But your breath has the scent
Of the heart you chewed up and spit out
But you ignore the stench
Your words are loud
But the hate behind them is louder
So you plug your ears so you can't hear it
Your soul is massive
But you burry love with the dirt inside it
And walk away as love slowly suffocates
You should acknowledge that your finger points back at you
You should open your eyes when you look in the mirror
You should stop ignoring the stench of your breath behind that smile
You should unplug your ears and listen to your words
Then you should burry yourself
With the dirt that's in your soul
And I will walk away as you suffocate
Just as you did with the love that I gave to you
I am a MouseI am a mouse.
I am quiet, I am nothing.
I am a book that nobody has read.
I am an eclipsed sun and a cloaked moon.
I am irrelevant and unwanted, a broken toy in an attic.
I am the dust in your rear-view mirror that you leave behind.
I am the air that you breathe in and spit out as something different.
I am the palest white. I am the darkest black. I am the dullest, emptiest grey.
I am the old man with forgotten memories and the baby who has yet to make them.
I am a forgotten word, dangling on the tip of your tongue, hanging on the noose of your lips.
I am a dried up stream. I am a felled forest. I am an abandoned cornucopia of resolute nothingness.
And there is Hell burning in my eyes.
PainParalized by the suffering
A shiver down my spine
Images of my past haunt me
No one can save me from this hell
to me you are perfect
I do not know the reasons
for all those scars burning
against your bright skin
you've been soaking
a pain reminiscing from past
we both cannot recollect
yet you are so beautiful..
when night gets darker
and I am the one...
who's hungered to undress
the spirit of you
slowly revealing the layers
coming off from shadows
disguised in desires
craving to be fulfilled
I will caress every corner
of your silhouette
until I figure the true shape
of your heart
I will rub those blisters
softly until every nerve
of you gushes into a river
and you moan into a life
I had promised you
years ago when we began
to breathe into each other
for all the truths
I must swallow
and lessons I must learn
you are the one
I am destined to discover
what it means
to love in perfection
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
i can't keep walking on these dry-rot bonesoh, i am not a poet;
like the ink scratches
of plath, i am
specter boy: decay,
dispose, & disappoint
because this is the way
that writers wane -
(this hangman head is no
survivor story, & gods
do not burn out
you talk like a travestyoh, mercury boy, you can't
write your way out of this
body or out of this mind;
you can pray like it's high-fashion,
insist you're only burning yourself out
(but tell me - do you feel like a god yet?)
if only for murky mirrors &
silver cicadas caught
in your ribcage, you've
got a knack for decaying
The PointIt’s the taste of cake mix on the spoon, that first time you ‘help’ bake a cake.
It’s seeing the bright world afresh after a dark nightmare, when you first wake.
It’s when you make them laugh and, in that moment, everyone loves a clown.
It’s when your heart stops before the roller coaster plummets down, down.
It’s when the lights go out before your favourite band plays and you scream.
It’s that moment you look around and everything’s perfect enough to be a dream.
It’s the anticipation of waiting for a new episode of your favourite television show.
It’s the first time you listen to your favourite record and you just sort of know.
It’s reading a book cover-to-cover and a million times more and still crying at the ending.
It’s the stiff, tight, real feeling of a smiling scab as you watch the wound mending.
It’s when you first meet your best friend and you hate each other (but in a good way).
california wintersthe tears
I rationed have all
run out. Tuesday comes
up behind me and steals
my breath; my cat snores.
she can’t sleep soundly
since she lost her seventh
life. I’m like that, I’m always
worried someone will try to steal
what I’ve already given away.
I miss color. newsprint sobs
washed me out. I am a
blank canvas, I am a faceless,
I am one
of you. I wake up sweating
and it’s winter and I can’t
sleep because my memories
follow me between my sheets;
jake still won’t listen.
we never knew we were the
lucky ones, we scarred, too. don’t
touch me. don’t want
me, don’t bare my bones
when you think I’m not
watching. I’m afraid of
myself. breathing loud
enough that others know
I exist; you follow me,
needing, laughing, it’s
a game. who has lost
the most, we all want
to win; I’m so tired, so scared,
there’s no one in the world
who sees me. I can’t cry.
we’re in a drought.
Stream Of ConsciousnessThe promise of tomorrow
Brings nothing but neglect
Of my own self-worth.
Craving your touch is a craving
Not satisfied by a peck on the cheek,
Or a light brushing of shoulders.
My dreams remain in purgatory.
My faith in love remains sublime.
My love of life is fading with each day.
I wish for more than what you give me.
I wish for more than what I have.
I wish for more than unfulfilled thoughts
Brought on by imaginary words that
Have never been spoken.
This stream of consciousness is relentlessly
Striving to become something that greatness
Can't put a finger on.
All I know is that I want more than to look into your eyes.
I want more than just a mere thought of having you.
I want more than this overflowing, bursting, box of dreams.
Purge my pain.
Purge this impatient, impulsion to infest
You're being with kisses and love.
Purge me of wanting more.
Let's become one and see where it brings us.
Give me more
Keep in Touch!
Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More