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another unwantedby the light of a dying day
as unhappily as my heart could beat,
as breaths could sing,
Did I ever choose?
I think not.
just give a hushed
seal it with a
m a gic s p ell,
t a l e to
IllusionIridescent illusions fleeting across a crumbling path,
as trembling hands sew
what is left of
a lovely visage.
that send the world
falling to its knees,
as the backdrop of the universe
bends against the will
of its god,
and the fear-stricken children
of this realm are demolished
upon swimming in never-ending flows
of hate and ignorance.
Open your eyes,
all that seems to be beneficial
to your rotting human existence,
will drain you of your will to live.
Your body, like the discards of a dull record
on a lifeless day,
will be disposed of
like the waste of flesh that it is.
WaitI have to take a second look,
delve into the past that has shaped the sufferings of my mind,
I stepped on the shards of the mirror,
my blood covers the floor.
I realize that I am barefoot, that I am not breathing.
Who is this?
A scar sits upon my chest, from where I attempted
to pierce my lungs,
but the few tears I cried
were those of happiness.
What have I become?
I am confused,
all the papers have been scattered, and I search
for the one that bears the truth,
as soon as the building is set to flames.
I inhale the smoke.
Too familiar of a feeling.
HazinessHaziness of the lights, blurred vision
breath shortened to weak rasps,
hands frail, the weapon is dropped,
and into the room the rest run.
Faces looming above, they stare you down,
eyes filled with fight, tears falling,
echoing in the chambers of my mind.
Cloth to neck,
panic and fury,
our eyes meet.
Slight smile, clothing is colored bright.
Final sight of your lips, and darkness floods,
as faint sirens screech
in the distance.
I Love YouI love you more than anything
more than anyone,
I'll miss you more than I miss anything,
even the bliss that I had lost
I want you more than my hidden desires
that tug at my aching heart
But it seems that you have ran off,
out of my arms,
and out of sight
And I'm sorry
for saying all the wrong words,
and being all the wrong things.
I love you
so even if you don't come back,
my love will forever be for no one but you.
To Whom it Doesn't ConcernHello.
I've truly realized how none of you care.
You act as if you do, but in the end, you are concerned with no one but yourselves.
I had never asked for much. A simple kindness was worth too much to give, it seems, but I understand.
I wasn't the person you were looking to give it to.
I learned that I've never wanted to be.
Never wanted to breathe, never wanted to live.
Mostly because, there is nothing worth living for, not even myself.
Why must I suffer? Why do I let myself face this agony and this pain?
You say that this is selfish, because it'll only inflict pain upon others, but there'll be none.
Because you don't care.
It is selfish of you to degrade me for wanting release, for letting me crumble and wither away.
But you don't care.
You're just like everyone else. And hopefully you will suffer just as much as I have to.
It's unbearable. It's indescribable.
It's consumed me.
I've turned into this monster.
And it's time that I rid the world of it.
I don't careI no longer care
It's just a mere wound,
just another drop of blood,
and just a little sob.
It becomes routine,
part of the coldness of your hearts.
Please tell me why God has chosen me
to live on this planet.
Somberly, along this oppressive path.
I wanted nothing.
And you got everything.
The Boy Who Wouldnt EatIf you can flutter
I have failed you,
for you were not forged
to be so insubstantial as that
You were writ
to be an epic fable
of endings ignored,
of outlasting your body
through the sheer will
of a writers starving heart
through a broken, bowed
but bravely abiding body
that fights the soul
to comprehend Beauty.
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
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
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 -
Sound PoemIthrumden, ithrumden delsum
nith mul thruss elmrissull.
Eth rut mundelliss
Curmiette dessel renrin
irme trell ithrumden.
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.
The partyFlashing lights
Smoke all around
About to pass out
My head starts to hurt
I can't take this anymore
So without saying anything
I find the exit
And escape that place
"How can someone have fun in there?"
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
You and ILingering through my dreams,
Grasping my hand,
in a gentle dance,
across the field of swaying flowers.
Holding you close,
embracing against the shine of the sun,
soothed by the touch of the wind.
And laying in the rain,
just you and I,
hoping to be yours till the end of time.
I close my eyes,
till the beating of the rain
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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