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tmartin Jan 2019
it has a way of wilting
or blossoming
at the strangest and most unpredictable hour.
but this how love is;
an uncontrollable beast in the form of a flower
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Zelda Jan 2019
We didn't start out in love
But there was something in your madness
So familiar
I realized what others couldn't
So I stay holding your heart
And find comfort in your sadness

You stopped listening
While I was patiently waiting
Still a Stranger
I thought we'd be okay
When you said you cared (about me)
But you'll always be sitting on the edge
And I'll always be saying goodbye
To the man I think I know

When you show your flaws
I find comfort in your sadness
So take my hand, take my hand
Cause the rain is turning to flames
And you won't be sleeping
When your mind keeps leading you to the chair
Say "Goodbye", Say "Goodbye"
Cause you find comfort in your sadness
I'm not sure if I'm happy with it
MisfitOfSociety Jan 2019
When I awoke, I walked.
When I walked I saw myself walking behind me,
and in front of me.
I stared at myself staring back at the million different mes behind me.

You can't comprehend infinity in a single moment.
If we could we would not be here.
That is why I am here,
to learn to comprehend infinity,
through the million different mes behind me.
blackbiird Jan 2019
I'm not sure if you're addicted
to my sadness
or if I've gotten used to
the silence that creeps
between us while we sleep
but there's something
peculiar about
the way you
breathe.

it's enticing
so intoxicating
that I don't mind crying
next to you
for a little while longer.
Em Jan 2019
A sunflower drowned in lavender,
A sky as dark as poison.
An infinite Purgatory sitting as a cat,
poised in a position.
Ready to lunge,
ready to pounce,
on those less worthy,
those worth more,
in a world with no worth anymore.
No solution to the war.
Broken glass,
blood covered leaves,
diamonds for eyes,
rivers that bleed.
Names on notes,
forgotten journals,
lilies afloat.
A purr in the wilderness,
a whir in her mind,
gears churning,
creatures lurking,
in a world lost in Time.
Richard Frank Jan 2019
In this world full of strange men
Their weary eyes clouded with grief
It windows through their empty souls
As they their sorrowful soul seek light outside
But they cannot find the light in me,
For me, myself were finding light in this dark place
Wearing their deceitful smiles, it hung across their faces
In this world full of strange men
blushing prince Jan 2019
a swollen finger rising to the occasion
rising to the size of a grape, purple
bloated like a stuffed pocket or pregnant chicken
green oozing out like the slime i got from the museum and the smell of rubber and plastic following me in my sleep

a ghost by the window slipping into my thumb and biting pain
the numb pressure of muscle tissue ripping
the phantom claws out and shouts that women are debris
swamps with lost metal buried at the bottom if you dig long enough the days become one and their hair consumes you whole

i argue with the shadow, threaten that this bruise will burst and blood with meet alcohol, an antibiotic fever dream
it stares at me defiant, like a giant pulverizing a village
my fingers wrestle and before the abscess can pop
the fingerprints unravel until i am nothing but thread
a coil at the bottom of the floor
a dress to be sewn in a bedroom
the shadow stand up and fits her bones into the fibers, a bride in white
the thumb hurts no more
a gross anatomy dissection
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