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 Oct 2017
victoria
She woke before the birds one morning, and she was as light as the sunbeams creeping over the horizon.
It had been a lifetime since her smile was wider than the ocean, since her heart felt free.
No longer caged in behind her walls. No longer contained, unable to reach out for freedom.

She had sat within the molten air.
She had reached out blindly, and stroked its black velvety walls. She had listened to the masked voices.
And she had separated herself.

She had cradled her sadness and pulled it close.
She had sheltered it from the claws that had threatened to ****** it away.
And she'd saved it so that she could learn to love it.

She chose a new way.
She had pulled at the light and had drawn it to her core.
She found her bravery from the kind, supportive hearts that surrounded her, each and every day.
Her constant: Her friends.
She cut out and stitched over the patches of guilt, jealousy, fear and uselessness.

She had awoken.
She was reborn.
No longer afraid.

She had chosen to sit in the darkness.
She had chosen to feel it.
To reach out and touch it, and to listen to it.
She had not sent it away; she had taught herself to separate from it.

Again the brilliant sunshine rose, which had blinded her only days before.
This time she didn't turn away. This time she allowed it to reside deep within her, as she held it close.

She now loved both the light and the dark.
And she had new knowledge.
For she realised, that one could not exist without the other.
 Oct 2017
Ian Lewis Copestick
Come take a walk with me downtown
Where the ancient spirits may be found
The dull thump of techno is not the sound
That assaults your senses, now
It's the baying hounds

Suddenly you're enveloped in a must
Although you're not drinking you feel quite ******
You've never known a feeling like this
No all the times on acid and mushrooms you've tripped

This must be the wrong alley, you've turned in
It's​ like a tiny hurricane in which you spin
The lights blur, your stomach churns
You have definitely taken a wrong turn

It must be the 19th Century in which you're found
The way the men's coattails skirt the ground
You want to scream, you can't make a sound
People walk right through you, like there's no one around

All of the shops have shrunk in size
Changed from concrete to marble before your eyes
The windows are smaller, tiny panes of glass
As through the mud and ****, you wander past

The black horses stomp, their breath it steams
The silver on their bridles gleams
Sewage runs through the gutters like a stream
Stuck in a 19th Century nightmare dream

The words in the drunken shouts  don't really differ
But the accent's changed, grown coarser, thicker
. It's gaslight, not neon now that flickers
But you could probably get a decent pint of bitter

The working girls are still around
They look even dirtier, more​ worn down
Money for Gin, not crack must now be found
But still the sordid beat they pound

Suddenly, the mist it clears
The smell of horseshit disappears
You were there for a minute, now you're back here
Now you slowly walk back home, shaking with fear
 Oct 2017
zebra
she is LuNa
she called him
Mr hypnotic
maybe because
he practiced the subtle art of conversational hypnosis
or perhaps he was a night dragon
blink-less staring into her soul
as if she where naked
and her thighs were cradled in his amorous arms

she ached to be his love slave
on her knees, she wept
a mosaic of desires
her toes adorned with inlaid rings
her tongue in flames
wanting him thick in her mouth

her ******* heaving
like a black sea
******* sticky hot
her *****
a cracked ***
leaking buttery ooze
a mindless baby doll
in a chaotic embrace

he
all mad mans grasp
she would be his butter cup and blood buffet
to be buried
feet over her head
and spread wide

seized fingers entwined
a rose of ruin
fuckarella
a dark hazel with a wandering ******

her soul
on a ferris-wheel
from heaven to hell
a ****** odyssey
endearments and bites
a blood soaked mouth
lapping up his wet crotch fruit
raving red rage burning

she
eaten and licked like blood cherries impaled
used abused
and forever
gratefully amused
beaten
sweeter than a *** at a ***** movie
waiting desolate for her demonic lover
odalisque in love
ODALISQUE
*** SLAVE
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