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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
Unable to loveMy love was pure
I only wanted
But my heart
Because my love
Like a piece of garbage
And now I'm unable
Because the shreds
Of my shattered soul
MathematicsI am but the sum of my
F L A W S;
a network of
S C A R S
a disaster of
D R E A M S
a shield of
B O N E S
C A L C U L A T I O N
a void of
to the girl i lose my words aroundi have been meaning to tell you for years:
i think you’re beautiful. i have
seen nothing on earth that holds a candle
to the ocean you carry inside your body.
it spills over your edges sometimes, like
a rain shower around you, blurring your penciled-in
lines until there is nothing left of you but your natural
cliffs, valleys, and deserts.
i like that.
i have never met someone who is, somehow,
a sea and a storm at the same time.
maybe i never will again.
maybe you are the only one
who gathers clouds on her forehead
like a promise, or feels the push and pull of the tide
with her every step.
you are beautiful, honestly.
you are honest, beautifully.
it is in the way you talk, the way you hold ice
on your tongue but forget to use it—
you always forget to use it, i don’t think
you know how.
to be truthful, i’m afraid of your smile
and how it breaks over me, how it pulls
me like a whirlpool down, how it pushes me
like a current back to the surface. i’m afraid of
Abuse Is Sometimes NecessaryPush and pull at her long hair, topple her to the solid ground,
elbow her sharply in the raw gut, shove her harshly around.
Scratch him in the pale face, punch him in the broken jaw,
do anything necessary to him that's considered breaking the law.
And when she cries because you've punched her, let her be,
and observe her when she returns to her habitual smoking.
When she passes out next day, because she's drunken too much booze,
slap her in the face once more, though many would consider it abuse.
When he can hardly walk because he thinks he's high in the clouds,
rip the needle out of his arm, and with your nails, slash him across the sweaty brow.
Grab them and shake them till their battered and bruised,
tear at their heart, scream in their ears until you've reached the point of verbal abuse.
And when she falls into your chest, and he collapses to the ground,
pull them closely, and whisper, “We can turn this all around.”
And rehab is a necessity for all of you, because you'v
Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)Good (Great, Greater, Greatest, You)
I hope the title caught your eye,
because this is about you.
Many of us speak in superlatives
and ambiguous language.
In imagery-laden text masquerading
underneath double entendres
keeping us from a part of the truth.
But purple streaks and red bands,
harp strings and soft hands
don't begin to explain
the love I have for you.
So I lay these words down
simple in its vulnerability,
blemished and raw in its purity.
The term lissome fits you in many ways,
but not necessarily it its textbook form.
I speak on the part that is not readily seen
but what is easily most cogent.
Your consciousness' cognizance
is graceful in the way
you fold one syllable over
another, supple in its meaning
that can take many forms
going from idle lies
to how we idolize hollow eyes
and uncovered hip bones.
Elegance is an understatement,
but I refuse to speak in cliche superlatives.
I speak honestly
but not with exaggerated grandeur.
Because your immediate app
ScienceI am more than my
F L A W S;
a masterpiece of
S C A R S
a delicacy of
D R E A M S
a sculpture of
B O N E S
R E A C T I O N
a well of
i am made of nights like theseativan boy, you cannot empty out this skull -
not with a pen nor with a bullet. you can
be my hallowed head(case) for spitting out
words like teeth; oh, but i will only love you
when you're weary. i will keep crows caged
between your lungs like veins, like palpitations.
i will rot you through bones & car radios,
but i will never get (you) out of your skin.
A broken heartI promised myself I'll never fall in love
Whenever I fall in love I feel renewed and happy
But like a drug
Once everything finishes
I'm crying, depressed and the wreckage of my heart
I always end up feeling worse
I want to find someone that is special
But I'm afraid to suffer again
I'm afraid of losing another person
Do not want to suffer
Do not make me suffer, do not lie to me
Do not hurt me, no more
I will not hold on to people who only sink me
I'll be free and live with have left
A cold and lonely spirit.
Why Do You Still Believe?I used to wonder how one could believe in a God who oppresses?
Who controls you, who uses you, whose unbreakable laws can lead to serious depression.
I wondered this because I know what it's like to be failed,
to be “abandoned” by God, and to be thrown in a personal hell.
But than I grew older and learned how to cope,
I learned that believing in God was like holding a tethered rope.
So I looked to the world and was surprised by what I had seen.
Together the believers were holding onto a broken string.
On the top of the rope God holds on tightly,
and towards the bottom, the believers cling to the Almighty.
Through oppression, through injustice bestowed upon them by God,
they refuse to release their grip, as their faith is stronger than their distrust of God.
Because God does not oppress, nor does He use or impose ridiculous laws,
it is humans who do this, never has it been God.
So they still believe in Him when they're murdered for their faith,
when they're bombed beca
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!