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relahxe Jun 2019
I do not live: I burn. In acrimony raging
Two souls are dueling within my breast:
The soul of a devil, the soul of an angel.
Their breathing is flame and it gives me no rest.

Not one flame bursts but two - whatever I am touching,
And in each stone two heartbeats I hear clash…
Wherever I go there is an odious doubling
Of two warring faces, which vanish in ash.

And everywhere the wind that follows me is spreading
The ashes: all my footprints are effaced.
For I am not living - I burn! - and am shedding
A trail of grey ashes across a dim waste.
A translated poem by the Bulgarian symbolist poet and revolutionary Peyo Yavorov, the so called "singer of the soulful abysses", about the eternal bifurcation of the soul.
Translation by Peter Tempest.
It took a bit of courage
Whiskey and Cigar
I spent the day working on it
Sitting in my local bar

I planned it out precisely
I'd drop by her place by eight
I kept building up my courage
I made sure I wasn't late

She let me in and kissed me
I lit a smoke and grabbed a drink
She went into the bedroom
I had five minutes more to think

I poured myself another
Put the smoke upon the glass
I went into the bedroom
And then it came to pass

It started with three little words
She started as my friend
And now again, three little words
Put this friendship at an end

The three words were I love you
And those words made her cry
The three words now were different
Sorry, and goodbye

I left the glass upon the table
The cigar, I left that too
I left and she was crying
It was what I had to do

The courage that I needed
Had expired as I spoke
It was resting on her table
A glass of whiskey and a smoke
K Balachandran Mar 2019
from a dry split pod,
a lot of winged seeds explode;
a future forest
sixpoetry Feb 2019
and now that you and i have become nothing more
than a memory released into the enormity time
we stand side by side in a room full of faces
yet all my eyes focus on is you
y o u
and the chasm between us
that splits our collided worlds in two
grace Feb 2019
I have two best friends
That my boyfriend doesn't seem to like
They have my attention all throughout the day
He only gets me in the night time
I choke all day
And don't breath until theres no light
Am I real around them
Or my boyfriend
Time will find out
Whether I'm honest with myself
J B Moore Jan 2019
I am torn in two, divided yet whole.
Split in half, I hold both parts of my soul.
I thought I knew the answer— I don't know.
Don’t count on it— It’s decidedly so.

I should make the choice— we can never choose
Let’s flip a coin, heads they win, tails we loose.
—We lost— Let’s shake the ball for counsel
With out a doubt! —Or is it quite doubtful?

Yes or no, or maybe so, we will see.
Yes, I know, just let it go, we are free.
Are we wrong, or right, is it day or night, tell me.

Am I torn, divided, or split in two?
There’s a difference?— Oh if only I knew.
The voices in my head say they know what to do.

1/28/19
Melancholy Jan 2019
Each passing day
Is like a dream
And not in a good way
Like you think it may be
Dream as in blurry
Like your eyes when you cry
Muffled sounds, numb parts
As if you're on drugs
My brain is getting foggy;
I cant write. Stop.
The voices are saying I'm not good enough
The voices are yelling, they're deafening now
They're saying I'm crazy
What are you on about?
You're ugly, and stupid.
They can see it from afar.
Nobody likes you.
You're not how they are.
You're weird and you're sad.
You often get mad.
You lash out the most,
At the ones you love.
That's why they leave you.
Please, just shut up
I'll always be with you.
I am you.
Well, ****
The "Self"
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