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Restless.I have a soul, distinct and alien.
I feel it beneath my skin, pulsating.
Itching to escape my body.
Rushing through my fingertips like a fist-shaped hole in the wall.
Jaws always clenched, wired shut.
Sanding down teeth and bone.
Resentment and bloody gums.
What will my aching discomfort bring today?
Pick a symptom, any symptom.
Chronic headaches? Dry heaves? Off-kilter equilibrium?
I'm dwindling - had and felt it all.
I disappear by the pound and cut off all my hair.
Disappear with time and sickness and mouthfuls of pills.
Doctors got me on this Xanax diet.
With a wish in one hand and shit in the other.
So I drink a glass of wine.
And I laugh at the tragic, boring, cynical person I've become.
Existence is the mere struggle just to remember to breathe every few seconds.
Lungs black, filled with smoke that I keep telling myself is medicinal.
My anxious, vagabond soul will not rest till I am dead.
Free at last, free at last.
The Man in Red Plaid.These walls are my friends.
They know me better than I know myself.
Dark energies surround me.
Cradling me in cold arms.
Thumping like death rattles.
I fester on top of my mattress.
My comfort zone of dead skin cell bed sheets.
Stained with blood,
And the man in red plaid stands in the corner.
Always staring at me.
Like lonesome hallucinations in the night.
Pressing on my chest while I sleep.
He’s the only one who knows my name.
Home.Beautiful eyes are sociopathic.
His static-blue gaze sends shivers down my spine.
I fell in love at sunrise,
with threadbare jeans and a dull hangover.
Studying the curves and bends of his body,
imperfectly designed with me in mind.
Admiring his sleepy-eyed, alabaster complexion.
In the mornings, he smells like home.
I want to bury my sorrows in the soft nape of his neck.
I want to stay there forever.
Insignificant.Time slips away from her,
dripping between her nearly arthritic fingers.
Entire years pass in her peripheral vision,
lost in a spinning whirlwind of color and shape,
love and indifference,
vertigo and delirium.
She meanders aimlessly through the daily motions and daydreams,
feeling partly hardened,
and partly brokenhearted.
She is lonesome in a familiar way,
aching as though she had lost a precious limb.
This is the aging process,
and everyday she feels several steps closer to her own deathbed.
She floats in and out of reality,
too abstract for that simple, beautiful, middle ground.
Fantasizing about lives she will never live,
confidence she will never have,
and a romance that she never should have expected in the first place.
Decomposition.Existence is disintegration.
Flowers curled and withered.
Paper bones and yellowed skin.
This skeleton is my own.
My history -- a nameless tombstone.
An antique mirror.
A crumbling clot of dirt.
This is what it’s worth.
There is no God.
No tree of life.
Nothing grows here anymore.
Distorted.I hear things.
in my head.
Pupils dilate like wormholes.
I am catatonic.
I am wrong inside.
Heredity.I'm afraid of you.
My post-traumatic deceiver
with a heart three sizes too small.
Loving you is a sacrifice -
an underestimated dare.
So I keep both feet on the ground
and my fists up in the air.
Violence runs in the bloodline -
a big man makes real big threats.
That alcohol speaks louder
than your capability of regret.
Hate swells in your soul -
in your drunken,
You are someone else,
just a werewolf in disguise.
Now I know the anger exists.
No apologies -
don't fucking bother.
I saw the devil inside you
and he looked just like your father.
Something I Can Never Be.If I had any
I wouldn't look
in his direction.
he's all I've ever
He's the object
of my affection.
He is liberation;
Even when he
breaks my heart,
brings me to my knees.
I want to feel safe
in his arms,
I'm reluctant to commit.
I hate how much
I love him,
for fear of things
I can't admit.
he takes me
the pills mean more
the love of his life;
a love that
can never be.
Four Hour InfatuationOne little capsule.
I'm lost to the high.
It's all a delusion.
Like I fell from the sky.
I feel him soak into me.
Adrift and adored.
He is electric.
In the back of my throat.
All the troubles drip down.
The hurt melts away.
Immersed in the sound.
I feel him soak into me.
Adrift and adored.
He touches my face.
I sink into the floor.
Cloud nine takes my hand.
And leads me astray.
Into the wild blue yonder.
He takes me away.
So I heard you wanted to make them like you?So I heard you had someone in mind
Perhaps something more intimate and
So I heard you wanted him to like you,
And I heard you didn't know what to do.
And so I heard you wanted a friend.
Or maybe just one..
And I heard from you, that you want me to like you too
but how, you ask?
you don't need to try.
I mean I heard you wanted to make them like
Wondering how getting the attention of that special someone works?
or perhaps just the friend, you know.
I'm no somebody and preferably just a nobody but
I heard you wanted someone to like you.
So be You.
BeautyI'd rather wear flowers in my hair,
forming a delicate chain
Than diamonds around my neck,
covering my tender blue veins
For with every precious petal
and every lucent leaf
I'm a living lesson
teaching beauty can not be bought
But rather it grows and flourishes
with every living thought
Expensive LiesI sit and stare at the toilet bowl.
A guy I know is bulimic.
When we compliment him
I see the twist of agony in his eyes
as his brain reprograms it
to sound like an expensive lie
that costs him another tear
in his tattered dignity.
Friends hurry to him,
to reassure him, to love him.
They tell him how beautiful he is.
We didn't know him before,
but he's definitely not fat now.
We whisper things in concern like;
body dysmorphic disorder.
'I know you'll never believe me
but you are so gorgeous -
not just on the inside.' Not just.
And they're right, I join in,
because they are right to say it
because it happens to be true -
he is stunning. Not just on the outside.
And we want him to see himself
the way we see him, beautiful.
And I join in because
I've felt that strangle of pain
in my stomach, bowels and belly,
when someone used to tell me lies.
So I know how he feels.
Only, he is beautiful on the outside
and I'm not.
He's not seeing reality in the mirror
and I am.
And people rush to correc
Fearing MeI'm not afraid to cry
and I do it
a lot more than you would guess.
It isn't always sadness,
I just feel like I need to,
feel everything so strongly
that it's the only way
to let go for a moment
because if I hold on for too long,
if my grip gets too tight
I'll break myself,
I will break you like glass
and we will both
I am a good guy
who hasn't yet found a way
to show it,
I am a good guy
who still identifies with the villains,
hides everything important
anything to throw you
off of my trail....
and I don't know why,
but I am trying.
Maybe I think
that if you could see me,
the real me,
you wouldn't want to look anymore,
want to be anywhere near me,
and the idea
that I can't add up
to be enough for you,
to be enough for me,
is so fucking heart breaking
I can hardly fathom it.
I can't say that it doesn't hurt
because it does,
it hurts a whole hell of a lot,
I've come to depend on pain,
to befriend misery
A Kiss not Forgotten (a special tribute)Like a frost spread across valleys silent and dreary,
ever my longing lost in shimmers of shadow & wind
And days bled into years, the seas became deserts
But thoughts of thee would not perish
Thru memories untamed I staggered far and long;
upon solemn nights lit by the torch of your soul
O’ how deep I miss your fragrant cheer ..
Of warm evenings shared across Lake’s reverie,
watching horizons journey into Autumn’s dream
— wherest our hearts once bloomed a fabled sky
Those passions shared will forsake me not
Lest the Moon would bestow solace upon my ache:
I will lay marooned, haunted by thy seraphic-figure,
Or the ever fleeting caress of your gaze ...
So my soul shall yield to this mythic abyss; –
as I peer from my carriage to Nirvana
And thou away, from my arms, the Sun weeps
Unto eternity—my dear beloved, we are entwined
Forever our footprints cast in golden firmament
A kiss not forgotten in a ballet of light softly falling
I now bear the want
you're just a question marki met you so long ago
but back then our bodies were made of metal
and nowadays they’re made of the blades of
grass and dirt settling
underneath my fingernails.
my fingers are having a hard time
reaching the keys and
my organs are shaking mostly because i haven’t
eaten in two days but also
because i’m worried about the things you're doing to yourself.
we didn’t meet very long ago at all but it feels like forever ago
and you say you don’t know me
that you don’t know anyone
but baby you're turning into a skeleton and i’m peeling back my skin
to try and reach my bones, just like you.
i hope you're happy,
i’m covering the hard wood floors now
the bits and pieces splattered.
they are calling it a suicide but i’m calling it
a way to see my brain and
just how dark it has become, and honestly
i don’t want you to try and see about your’s.
i’m mourning the loss of my heart and wish you weren’t either -
Black hole BulimicThe Composition:
I birth poems — not amaranths
in graveyards — not gardens.
sows seeds of doubt
into skeleton weeds.
A farmer plucks the bones
from Apollo's hyacinth; his
I binge on broken
cracked collectors of rocks,
of pebbles kidnapped
from barren beaches:
where crooked kings
buried in books whose
pages creak to crickets
in an abandoned abyss
of an attic—caskets on
an antiquated shelf. I
choke on the dust and
twitch in recoil.
The bickering sky
A cloud coughs—
The clock's scythe hand
swivels to the beckoning
twelve. Spastic ticking—
each bleak stroke
of a midnight heart.
The sundials do not work
now. The vampires know
I kill poems—
obligation steam machineas always
grinding the cankerous
of your cognition
until the lack of compassion
leaves you unlubricated
seized frozen bound stuck
only then the machine of
your fears will burst to steam
squealing to suckle
at the genius of my
the unsung soiled hero
of middle-class ferocity
savior of the undeserving
winding slowly deftly dying
martyr to the self-justified cause
as love for summer fades.late morning-
there's the tease of
snow in the clouds,
in the air, and the trees
have finally lost their
the sunlight is damp.
alters the room
as it graces my skin,
and for once
i don't wake up right away.
instead i lay
between my memory bitten
sheets, and i think
about all the times he said
that he hated winter.
i don't remember
when i began to love it,
and i don't care.
nothing can shatter that.
LithiumA single trickling rain drop
Like gossamer silk strands
Gliding along my third eye
Whispers wind's secret caress
I exhale. Lungs releasing-
Pressing translucent memories;
Fragment of a fragment
As water kisses rose petal,
Drifting down stream's curtain
Pretty little curtain.
Where the wizard lies.
He smiles up at me
With his monocled brow-
Sipping on warm tea
And fingers quacking casually
To the rhythm of his notes
This is a safe-zone. Free-zone.
Innocent eyes sparkle,
Imploring it to be true. I breathe.
Red Letter Day - Prologue
So here I am, writing.
I’m writing, I’m writing – just as you told me to.
I’m writing, I’m writing, I’m writing.
Have you ever noticed that when the sun goes down, this flat changes? It does. The walls are white during the day and lingering brown at night. During the day, I’m with you and the light from outside paints the walls that heavenly color. But when that sun goes down, the demons wake and I’m alone again, even though you’re just a room away.
Somehow it seems less threatening tonight, and I think it’s because you’ve given me an assignment to try and fight off the darkness. You gave me a stack of papers and a pen and told me to write everything that comes to mind.
It’s a strange feeling to have complete freedom. These empty pages are mine to do whatever I please – I could even wipe my ass with them – but they’re also terribly intimidating. The blank page has always been a nemesis of man. It&
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More