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all of the timea two story apartment
on a wet blanket
and i'm doing that thing
to your pictures
drunk and trying
with the blacks
i crashed the car but
found your underwear
soiled and on the street
christmas and i came early this year
true lovei spent the morning
with my face in well written lies
and a firm grasp on my cock
i called to tell you
that i was ready to die
and you arrived 20 minutes later
with scissors in hand
you finished me off
and i got back to my reading
this is not poetryin the last seven minutes
i have thought about you dead
i thought about the time
i finger fucked you while you slept
i thought about the real love that money,
immaturity and lies have taken from us
i think about spending the rest of my life alone
i think about spending the rest of my life in the bars
i think about spending the rest of my life in the street
or i think about not spending it at all
this is not poetry
this is pain in my chest and in my gut
this is pain in my hands and in my head
you will never read this
and i will never write it again
you always hated my poetry anyway
and for that i love you
shit eating grini'm sleeping for two
on a bed made of skin
and wet dreams
i have a partner now
i'm rarely alone
it's exciting and new
i caught myself with a
shit eating grin for all
the right reasons yesterday
and if i fuck myself tonight
it's because she is tired
not because i am alone
dedicated to dave smithit's hotter than hell outside
and the american dream is a black cock
inside of a white cunt
pissing or vomiting in a continuous line
while rehearsing the blues for the colorblind
and i'm on my fifth heart attack in three months
spit on me and spread your knife like legs
remind me that i'm your worst fuck ever
and leave me before the sun reveals my nude faults
5:57 AMI've seen them angels and the whores they become
glass stomachs and a fifty percent chance the child is yours
but I keep on drinking and gaining weight
bobby told me I stopped breathing in my sleep the other night
that was the best news I had heard all month
I celebrated by spending the extra three bucks for the good stuff
but the mornings have been more awkward lately
and I can't even stand the smell of myself anymore
if you can spare a dollar or two it's nice to meet you
hey, charlesqueer foot on the brake and
I'm pissing the bed again, buk
there's two men in the street
yelling about a dead dog
I'm down to my last dollar
and last call was an hour ago
it's getting serious, buk
dollar tuesdaysthe birth control mistress
and her money making schemes
I tell the bartender to bring me
something stiff and cheap
it's whiskey on the rocks
it's my first love
behind me the heroin day jobbers
are drooling themselves to sleep
lined up on their barstools waiting
for the firing squad to take them home
the whores swoon to the filthy
orchestra of drunken twenty somethings
and everything is in it's right place
these drinks would go down smoother
if you were here to share the guilt
but I'll continue looking for you
at the bottom of my first love
to deteriorate means to worsenwith a dry throat
I finger fuck you
my bone splinters
and I beg you to keep it
not even the heroin aficionados
know an addiction like this
they don't know the fucking half of it
what they do know is
that this street is my bed
and where I spit
is where I lay my finished head
they know our names
and they know about
the time I molested myself in public
they know about the
prescription drug love affair
and the night I amused myself
by throwing empty beer bottles
from a second story window
but they will never know
how good it feels to
decompose inside of you
the night I choked you
and fell asleep in my car
I'm sure they would have
heard about that too
Someone asked me what is love
is it good, is it bad
is it awesome, is it terrible
I honestly didnt know how to answer them.
I finally desided love is the most complicated of all emotions
Love is kind
love is harsh
love is wonderful
love is terrible
love is a cure
love is a sickness
love is LOVE
love is hate
love is meaningful
love is pointless
love shows the best in people
love shows the worse in people
love makes us speak truth
love makes us lie
love understands everything
love confuses everyone
love builds your life
love tears your heart down
love makes you smile
love makes you cry
love makes us cuddle
love makes us hit
love makes the world go round
love makes the world go crashing down
love makes things simple
love makes things impossible
love is always worth it
love is never worth it
love makes us smarter
love makes us stupid
love is enlightening!
love is BLIND
make love not war
make war out of love
love is peaceful
love creates fights
love is sooth
SuicideSuicide... they call it sin
They say it is a death in which no-one wins...
They encourage you not to do it, they say it is wrong...
But who is there to encourage you when you can't be strong.
You feel like you have no-one, not even a friend.
No shoulder to cry on, just one last letter to send.
tragedies - collab.you deserve all the cobweb dreams,
fairytale hopes, and explosive love
in the world, but i know that i
will never be the one
to give them to you.
you need notes that end with
'ps - you're brighter than
twenty-seven silver stars'.
i can't bring myself
to write them, though.
it's not like you'd read them,
i cut out paper hearts and
dreams and gave them to you, but
you only ripped them up and said
'these aren't good enough.'
when i painted you a picture
of golden skies and sunshine smiles,
you handed it back and told me
'next time, paint realistically.'
so i wrote you a story
filled of starless nights and
hopeless dreams. you said 'no,
i don't need this. you're
tragedy enough for me.'
by the time i was humming you
melancholy lullabies through the receiver,
you had already surrendered
to the sweet grasps of sleep.
'i'd rather nightmares than you,'
you said, hanging up the phone.
i kept singing anyway, hoping
that you would stop running
long enough for me to catch up.
but i forgot -
the speed addictthe speed addict knows if he stops moving,
he will die. so when inertia takes hold
his heart falters and his head slams against
a future, lit by the dashboard. he hears
his veins stuttering like gears grinding out
a staccato refrain, while the wheel spins and
goes numb. as his breath twists away from his grip,
rasps a hol
heart song.this is the song
to your heart.
why are you locked inside
a bathroom stall? no one
to hold you, tell you sweet
lies and say you are
beautiful, say you are
perfect? it's not the end of
the world, not yet. if it was,
wouldn't there be
your heart is not yet
dead; please do not
say it is. if it was dead,
it wouldn't hurt this
your heart is only sleeping.
when the only melody in your head
is a break up song, and the only thing
your heart seems capable of doing
is twisting itself into knots, and the only
thing you want to do is hide and escape
we are talking about finding
eternity in the things people
throw away. we are talking about
listening to the moments of silence
in between heart beats. we are talking
about distances shortening and
people realizing they can
we are talking about
one of the greatest tragedies
in life is that
DementiaThe old man sits with stooped back.
The room is cold, just like his hands.
Thoughts have wandered like small children.
He wonders if he will see home again.
Thoughts have wandered home again,
with stooped backs and cold hands.
The room sits with the old man.
Like small children, he wonders if he will see cold.
Back stooped with thoughts, he wanders.
Like a child the small room sits, wondering.
Home again is cold.
The old man will see with his hands.
Thoughts have wandered with stooped backs.
The cold hands sit with the old man.
He wonders if he will see like small children.
The room is home again.
This PainTears roll down my face,
As I cut myself,
To release the pain.
It hurts so much,
But feels so good.
The pain is draining from me,
In drops of blood.
As I watch my pain leave from me,
"How can this be,
That I have so much pain
When I'm only merely 16?".
Then I remember the past that I've had,
Memories of yelling,
all the awful scars.
I've cried too much,
I've hated so many,
That I don't think people will ever get me.
I come back from my world of thoughts
And realize that I've bled too much,
It's all over the counter,
It's becoming messy,
But I don't care.
I just want this pain out of me.
I'm starting to think that I can't go on,
That maybe I should cut deeper
Till there is no more pain or blood,
But then I remember,
That I may have a future.
I'll just have to wait out this pain
And let the blood dry up.
Depressing PoemsSorry --
What if she died?
And at the funeral her parents told you,
"You could have saved her from herself."
How would that make you feel?
And that night you went home
Sat in your room alone
And killed yourself
Just to be with her again and tell her
Why do people try to help me?
Do they care?
I guess they do
But all I do is hurt them
She keeps trying to help me
But all I do is push her away
She's my best friend
Why can't I just let her help?
What if I died right now?
How would you fell?
Sad, depressed, torn apart?
Or would you feel nothing,
But an empty place that can never be filled again?
my american dreama walking mess, we must confess
room smells of no sex and I am a beached whale
declining in a sea of 400 count sheets, no shit, just sleep
pillows swell with dead weight, no wait
gray matter, take me home
my american dream rapes, lies and drinks too much
my american dream is no different than yours
gray matter, pass me a bottle or a bullet
america, you cunt
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More