Fake CrownsWe wear these fake crowns of thorns upon our headsFake Crowns by anothaflyonthewall16
Do they make us mighty?
No, they only hurt us
Cut into our skulls and bind us
Turn our power to pain
Our glory to pity
And our kindness to greed
The blood drips into our eyes
And blinds us more
What do we see?
A tainted world
What do they see when they look at us?
A corrupt one
These thorns are sharp and bitter
And they mock us as we live
And when we die they go to another
And mock us from the grave
So cast them aside and we will reign
Only when we become free
Of these fake crowns
FlameBrief, scattered light shines in place of night's starry array,Flame by SadisticYellowBird
little droplets of shimmering flame cover the alleyway.
Explosive shards falling fast like dreams from within,
before dream is gone and fire is lost, never to be seen again.
The city sky filled with buildings, bonfires lit on the rooftops,
many a fool will fall and land with cool distaste on cement blocks.
Plummet downwards, as did they, and find a rattlesnake on a strong box,
guarding the illusions that must be kept to maintain the upper fires warmth,
warding off the dejected souls, the fallen, who wander about in the cold storm.
They've seen the fire, felt it many a time, and handled coals from the brazier,
in times before they fell from the tops and landed here,
where the remnants of flame caress the ground as grass to tombstone haze.
Darkness and mad, cackling laughter echo throughout these grounds.
They take the place of whimsical word play and twist the mind of the sound,
rendering them the equal to the hatter, rebor
My passion for the antagonistIt's an eerie feeling lost out on a ledge when everything begins to crumble away.My passion for the antagonist by ericinprogress
A gentle breeze sets in motion an honest need to let go of my sad little balloon.
Most of the time I figure I could hold onto it a little longer if it means I
can still have you.
Let's pretend leaving it all behind isn't easier said than done.
One day I don't see myself coming back from this tricky little place in my head.
Sometimes my passion for the antagonist twists my stomach with every thought of you,
Thinking this time will be a slippery slope if I let you circle the drain with
all the regret that brings me here again.
ScreamThe vibrating leaves on beaten brick trees,Scream by SadisticYellowBird
They are our thoughts, they scream on repeat,
To the golden brown light in the forsaken distance,
They scream for release to a place that is vacant;
Fearless echoes never to be heard.
Water is violently hitting the brick,
From a neighboring pond reeking of familiar regret,
Seeking to awaken the eye of cement,
Trusting it to reach out one crumbling limb from unilateral descent,
To overdose the accumulation of bright lightning lament,
With poison from a weathered vile and supposedly foul intent.
Yet the discarded marauder will not awaken;
A sleep everlasting riddles this patient.
And with no one left to rob with defensive hand,
The water eternally spreads.
With the cascading, tumultuous, ocean there is a new beginning,
In which the murky sea is filled with broken bones and rotting bodies,
Of those who once composed the screams.
obscene gamethe place is filthyobscene game by katsumoto82
her naked body is cold
her hands are bound with barbed wire
each movement pushes
the barbed wire in her skin
her blood flows on her breasts
the pain is unbearable
this game is very hard
his phantasm is indecent
This love is an torture
however, she loves this weird man
who sometimes drinks her blood
when this obscene game is finished
What is a void?What is a void?What is a void? by coolmark82
A hole, a missing place
Felt deep within ourselves
There's no escape
From something within us
This void, this gruesome reality
For as pitch dark and unseen
As it's unforgiving claws are
Sneaking up, ripping apart
Our flesh, especially our hearts
Nothing but meager waste in it's eyes
This void, this valley
The place I'll always dread
Always sabotaging what's left of me
Like wildfire, like the burning trees
It only spreads, and leaves charred remains
Killing the animals in this blaze
They couldn't escape
Just as this void took them, innocently
As the innocence of this void is dreaded
So is this world blinded
That love isn't what it seems to be
It is a suicide waiting to happen
Mine ownOur rushing blood,Mine own by SearingLlama
These broken bones,
Our holy land,
A wasted plain,
This beating heart,
All in vain,
Ending in our pain,
I was never enough,
I'm never the same,
It's been so long,
You wouldn't even,
Know who I am,
I caused the rain,
The storms that,
Followed you endless,
Every drop of blood,
I spent each day,
Was another year,
In a disillusioned,
Hope I'd be free,
Still I'll find damnation,
To be that which I am,
A life form,
Purposed only to create
SchizophiliaA wintry bloomSchizophilia by poisoned-poet
The black rose's embrace
Tragedy taints the air
Crimson stains the grey
Fangs sink into supple flesh
With poison so very sweet
The world shatters like glass
Before eyes blackened by deceit
A bitter caress
Ripping, amorous claws
The soul's too frigid and raw
The dream unraveled
Threads of corruption
Within the mirror
Choked by mist
An ever-growing cyst
Cinnamon Souls"You're mixing water in your coke again."Cinnamon Souls by UntamedUnwanted
"You do that when you worry."
"I'm always worried."
"No, you're usually cinnamon-in-your-tea worried. This is water-in-coke worried and that is seriously beginning to freak me out."
"What are you worried about?"
"You're going to think it's stupid."
"Well...do you ever wonder about the kind of guy you're waiting for?"
"I think we all wonder about that guy, love."
"I've been thinking about him more often than not lately. What he would be like, I mean."
"Oh. Well...if it helps any, I know what mine would be like."
"Sure. He will be tall, so I have to stand on my toes to kiss him. He will be kind so I can tell him anything without fearing him judging me. He will be strong so he can carry me when I fall."
"Wow. Sounds like you have this figured out. I guess we all have some idea about what our soulmate should be like."
"You know what yours will be like then?"
"No, I'm talking to the li
The Witch's Admirers Simple etiquetteThe Witch's Admirers by autumnlit
and simple needs
for another space to be.
but fruit is costly
and bones are far from rot.
Why do you burn me,
for perils I have with fraught?
(~ frightened by the powers, that we have not ~)
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echointroverted-ghost
of a cloudburst,
the earth curls invisible fingers
about my achilles' tendon
she cries that i am not
intended for the clouds,
that my mind must not wander
between their susurrous concaves
furious with her insistence,
untether myself from the soft,
diaphonous comfort of the heavens
down into the weight of gravity.
listless green blades welcome my soles,
stimulating a tickle,
a sneeze; i never have done well
she is calling for me,
soft-tongued and crisp in her
& i am sorely tempted
i am not for the soil.
she becomes my inhale;
my alveoli shudder
beneath her force--
i am not for the air, either.
i stand beneath her onslaught
until she tires,
her molten heart beating beneath my toes;
unable to woo me with her facets,
cloaking me in one last attempt,
a final shadow.
my pores bloom
& i r
the summary of a half-womanI am here, in the quiet stages allowed by grief for myself and what I am losing, but that is not enough for passers-by who mistake the smoke of my imagination for the smoke of a pyre. My soul whispers often that they may be right, that perhaps my imagination and loneliness is a pyre of my own making, that I am scorching myself from the heels up into hell and back, but my mind remains unconvinced and stubborn in her ways.introverted-ghost
The cold is in my bones in these summer months, a contradiction of nature and self, but I have delved too deeply to warm myself with the fire that burns within me; it is ice cold and reddening, this fire-- another contradiction, but perhaps that is what I have become. The awakened, self-aware contradiction of peace, helpfully contained within an introverted skeleton and puckered goose-flesh that obediently walks the paths etched for it in the early lights of the dawning days.