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no titlehold our breath so we don't make a sound
figures of black creep into light
holding the heads of their enemies
up high in the air
shivers go up our broken spine
as the hues of red become visible
we long to scream and run away
but that's just how karma works
trafficking heartstrafficking hearts across the border
holding tightly to our weapons
so we're not caught off guard
by our opponents reaction
a game of chance - collabbirds chirp from within my ribcage
playing the xylophone on my lungs
saints become sinners in a game of chance
with every breath, the clock ticks by
chance is fate, and fate controls chance
perjury keeps us a bay, but we're left asking why
why we feel alive when we're clearly dying
dying for the irony that was thrust upon us
as we make a mockery out of the stars
we're laughing, stuck, in-between the bars
screaming will get us nowhere,
silence will drive us insane
but deep inside, who's to blame?
glasswishing on shards of broken glass
that are cutting through my veins
famously adrift in my own train of thought
too bad it's crashing
cold air pirouettes on exposed skin
motionless in a sea of green
mixed with the rusty taste of red
overflowing into oblivion
back out.sell-out sitting in a blackout
you don't write for yourself anymore
you write for approval, renewal
but that's not good enough for me
schizophrenic menace"doctor, please cure me. I can't think for myself!"
(there's blood in the bathroom sink and jars of fingers on the shelf
fool me once, shame on you. fool me twice, shame on me)
"doctor, there's something wrong. you must agree!"
"no there's nothing wrong, you seem to be fine.
if there was something I would surely see a sign."
(the living room is covered with plastic, so there will never be a stain
when he comes into the house and I shoot a bullet through his brain)
the truth is.you think you're a star on the rise
but the truth is you're plummeting to a
gone with the goners
we'll never know
you think your words bring joy
to the living and the dead
but the truth is you can't write
about feelings in MY head
losing it.and we both know
that the sun won't shine anymore
because we've made a deal with the dark
all that's left is vacancy signs to illuminate the night
and the lonely hearts will sing hallelujah
to forget the blacks and blues
painted over fragile skin
there is nothing left to lose
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.
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
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
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.
ash - collabthrough the window pane, through the dreary glass
from outside my window, the world turns to ash
the bright glow of fire, the smoky fog overhead
convince my subconscious that i'm better off dead
let the smoke fill up my lungs so i can no longer speak
'cause my words are so old they could be an antique
watch as it spreads through this ghost of a town
i don't give a fuck let it burn to the ground
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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