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Lord Aconite Jun 15
"I killed someone"
I cried
The Dreamer
The Wanderer
The one whose imagination
Rivals that of the Gods
I never meant to
I just wanted more control
Being a dreamer as it downsides
Determined to be disciplined
I trained
But in reality
I was killing my creativity
It happened so suddenly
Is what I tell myself
But I felt her dieing
Saw all the warnings
But I never fought for her
I watched as she slipped away
Tears stained her flawless face
"I forgive you"
She uttered
At that moment
Something died within me
Irreplaceable,
It can never be revived
My Muse is forever dead
And I eternally locked from it domain
Someone new took it's place
Lord Aconite Jun 15
I fought.
Every second of my life
Etched in pain.
I faced it.
I won.
It changed me.
I learned.

I unlearned the so-called truths,
Every sacred teaching
Of life.
And relearned it myself—
From the best teacher:
Life.

She taught me all.
My favorite woman.
Whether pain or pleasure,
I loved her just the same.
She whispered secrets
Of existence, society, and everything in between.

Many times, I nearly died.
But I survived.

Then came sin—
My chosen curriculum.

I built my deadliest sins
And wore them like armor:
My vanity rivals even God's.
I cannot fail. It's impossible!

My greed keeps me sharp,
Focused, burning.
I want what I want.

My lust—
Not only for ***,
But for victory.
To see this world
Brought to its knees.

A cosmic hunger.

My gluttony?
It drives me to take on
More than I should—
And still, I surpass.

My apathy—
That cold, uncaring monster—
Is my shield.
A necessary evil.

Everything else is obsolete.
Even virtue.

If you plan to survive in this world:
Abandon all virtues.
There is no God above.

You are God.
We are Gods.

Do not let the devil of *******
Use society's illusion of order
To chain your will
And drain your soul.

You are a creature of change.
Change is chaos.
Chaos is life.
Life is God.
God is me.
I am you.
You are us.

Heed this message:
Survival is not the goal.
Possession is not the goal.
Happiness is not the goal.

Chaos is.

The only permanent truth
Is impermanence.

So go.
Unleash the world.
Restore it to its natural order—
CHAOS!
Wow, it been a while, writers block had me chained to emptiness. But I'm back now!
ASLRC Jun 15
Life is beautiful but
Would the wind whisper love in my ear
When I am hanging there?

Life is short but
Would the sea hug me
Or would it just erase my name?

Life is exciting but
Would the fire make my heart warm
Or would it burn my memories?

Pain is temporary but
Would the pills heal my unloved heart
And would my blood paint my life-story?

Everything will be fine but
Will the floor kiss me passionately
Or will it break my heart even more?

I already tried, I took silver liquid
And combined it with strawberry milk
But it did more bad than worse

Will my parents be so proud
If I lay there in a pretty dress?
Zywa Jun 15
Ouch, I fall down the

mountain, getting up hurts, I --


feel like a winner.
Autobiographical book "Heden ik" ("Today for me", 1993, Renate Dorrestein), about ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), chapter 'First act' - Hodie mihi, cras tibi (today for me, tomorrow for thee)

Collection "Old sore"
Birdie Jun 14
Unfortunately I did it again,
I fell for the daydream,
I idolised men.
Now predictably I’m in way over my head,
Your presence I’m used to,
Your breathing in bed.
You’re part of the furniture now,
We can’t stay away,
Your love is a grass stain,
I can’t wash away.
Fell for someone who won’t fall for me. Again.
ASLRC Jun 14
On my nightstand, there is a beautiful music box Ballerina
She is stunning, passionate and young, her name is Catherina

Catherina used to dance in circles without ceasing
to the same note, her only purpose was people-pleasing

Whenever someone would open the box and wind it up on repeat
she continued dancing, on demand, ignoring the pain in her feet

Nobody cared how she felt, as long as she kept turning
like a clock, that never stops, she felt her passion burning

The older she turned, the more pain she had to go through
she couldn’t escape ‘cs she was tied to a strong *****

the music started to sound uncanny
she wished she didn’t have to see

So she made her tears red, voluntarily
to escape into her own imaginary
Lance Remir Jun 13
What I hate about myself
That is so pathetic and weak
That I despise so much 
Is that you can yell at me 
Call me names, throw lies
Throw all the trust back at me
Even hit me, scratch me 
Make me hurt and cry
Make my heart beg 
Make my voice loud
You can do all those things
Yet I know **** well
The moment we both 
Finally grow quiet and calm
The moment your golden eyes
Look upon my eyes, my soul
What I hate about myself 
Is that I would still love you
I would love you wholeheartedly
Through the pain and anger 
The guilt, regrets, wounds 
I will still love you through it all
Even through gritted teeth
Even through running tears
Even with a broken heart 
I will still love you through it all
Lolla Smith Jun 12
One More Shot.

One more shot,that should numb the pain
One more shot, then I won't feel insane,
Just one more double on the rocks with ice,
Maybe then I won't feel so miserable,
Maybe I'll be nice,

One more drink to take the hurt away,
One more shot to keep the demons at bay,
One more double with a dash of lime,
Maybe if I'm lucky I will forget the past and
not travel back in time,

Bottoms up, cheers, salute,
Just one more drink,
Maybe now I won't think...think...think!!
One more shot before I loose my mind,
Just a single this time, I am falling behind..
Who am I kidding?! One more shot!!
I will have another drink and lie when
people say I seem to be in a bad spot

One more shot before I pass out only
to wake in the morning light
One more drink so my memories fade and I can have some sleep tonight,
Why can't I stop??!! I am not done!
To hell with it! One more shot!!
Don't tell me I have options!
I was given none!

Finally the last shot!! Make this one stiff and
Destructive please?!
I need just one more drink maybe then
the pain will ease,
Stumbling over my feet, Reaching my bed,
The world is spinning, my whole
body feel like lead,

Maybe one more shot was
one shot too many,
Was it the bourbon, the ***
or the tequila??!!
Wait did I have any?!
Self loathing and then anger,
and sadness and fears,
The emotions surge through me,
I fall into a deep sleep
drowning in my tears..

Tomorrow will be a repeat
of what I did today.
One more shot hoping it
chases the hurt away
©️Lolla Smith
Lance Remir Jun 12
The voices that I used to hate

That berated me, hated me

Filled me with doubt and fears

Depressing, anxious tones

A chorus made of a broken soul

At least those voices of mine

Tell me that they love me still

After what you've left me as
Everly Rush Jun 12
she handed me a chopping board
wrapped in cheap red paper,
with a card tucked neatly inside:
since you like to slice yourself,
why not make it useful?


merry christmas.

i stared at it
wooden, plain,
cleaner than i’ve ever felt.
everyone else
pretended to laugh.
or worse
pretended nothing happened.

no one stopped her.
no one looked at me.
i was thirteen
and bleeding invisibly.

she jokes like i’m not alive,
like my pain is some inside gag
she shares with herself
while i sit there,
swallowing the sound of my own heartbeat
because it’s the only thing i know
that hasn’t turned against me.

i started hurting myself
when she moved in.
not for drama.
not for show.
but because the ache in my chest
had nowhere else to go.

my skin became
a secret diary
she somehow still read.

they won’t let me get help.
say i’m too young,
too fragile,
too… dramatic.

but i’m old enough
to wake up alone in a dorm bed,
wanting to disappear
before the day even begins.

i pay for my own classes
because she says i’m too stupid
to waste money on.
i win races
because running is the only time
i feel like i’m moving away from her
fast enough.

sometimes i run
until my lungs burn.
until my legs forget
they belong to a girl
who flinches at kindness
because it feels like a setup.

i don’t want revenge.
i don’t want her to hurt.

i just want a birthday
without fear.
a christmas
without cruelty.
a life
where love doesn’t come with teeth.

and maybe
just maybe
a version of myself
who can look in the mirror
and see more
than what she tried to carve out of me.
18:11pm / this poem took all day to write
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