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Hard to gain.
But easily lost.
The effects will always remain.
Unless we pay the cost.
Instead of abiding by t
It is the DarknessIt is the darkness that cumulates, coils and collects
At the edge of the visible light; a haven in the night,
Never quite visible, always tangible. Always pulling
On the fraying edges of the mind’s tapestry that one day,
As all things must, will unravel, unwind, and remain unfinished.
It is death’s running chase that reveals ones innermost self.
There is the rain and the moon and the dark stormy clouds
And these are evocative of their master. They’re the painter’s stroke,
The craftsman’s signature style, and above all else,
They are the Roman’s requiem, solemn and persistent,
Fashioning a loose, strai
Emotions to bottleTake your pain and put it in a bottle,
push the lid down and put it on the shelf,
let it settle between sorrow and hurt,
collecting emotions to bottle them away.
What if I tore down that shelf and smashed the glass?
falling crystal tears or thundering shredded pain?
your anger and frustration set to fill the air,
taking away your oxygen and filling your head with pain and more despair,
your collected emotions set free.
Grab another bottle or three or maybe even five,
set them on the shelf and let them settle,
hide your feelings and lies and truths,
feel numb and feel nothing,
you just keep collecting emotions to bottle.
DreamsTo dream is a dangerous thing.
It puts assumptions into our heads.
They encourage us to get hurt.
They break hearts.
I've realized that people don't break hearts.
Our dreams do.
We expect things,
And they don't come true.
Who do we blame?
We blame people,
When in reality we should blame ourselves,
For expecting things that will never happen.
It's not my fault,
Or your fault,
For these dreams.
But dreaming is better than reality.
And we just want our dreams to come true.
I don't want to be this way.
But I can't help but feel this way.
No matter what you do
Or what comforting words you say.
My over active mind will not allow me to believe it.
My weary blood shot eyes will not allow me to see it.
Even though my attentive heart is able to receive it.
My thoughts and my imagination will corrupt and deceive it.
And that's why no matter how much I love you.
For some reason I will always feel cheated.
So please don't blame yourself because you have done more than enough.
You have proven yourself and have provided me with so much love.
There are only so many false accusations you can take.
The Man without a FaceHe stares in a mirror through eyes clogging tears
a smirk persisting alongside; a dead, worthless sneer.
He stares hard yet recognizing not the man he sees
recognizing that man is a desperately elevated dream of his
He wonders if his deeds - reflected - are right
he betrayed his friends, he abandoned his wife
reasons always lurk in the pits of the mind
yet so dark? At times his cynical heart reclined.
He smiled on insults and laughed in disgrace
he knew not what he was so he altered his face
with each turn and bend, with each traffic light
his face twist and turned, losing remnants of sight.
A con you could say, no one pronounced
Reflected InspectionReflected Inspection
Here I am again examining my disfigured figure in the mirror.
Fondling my fat wishing I could trim it down with a pair of scissors.
Relentlessly poking, prodding and picking at my face.
Leaving behind nothing but a black, coarse and scabby trace.
Furiously patting down my cheeks begging them to be smaller.
Standing on the edge of my toes willfully imagining that I am taller.
Folding my ears inwards commanding them to decrease in size.
Hysterically trying to find the beauty they said existed in my eyes.
Scrutinizing my nose using my hands to mould it into my desired shape.
Impatiently withdrawing my stomach to wo
Ice Cold LipsHer cold lips
pink in nature
but cold underneath.
There's no life
in those two strips of flesh.
The rest of her is hot,
but her lips are always ice.
Delilah, do you love me?
Of course I do.
Her eyes are just as cold
as her cold dead lips.
Delilah, do you love me?
...yes, I do
Her hands leave hot trails down my back
but her lips leave frost on my skin.
Delilah, do you love me?
and her cold dead lips
touched my own.
Paradigm Of The Lost DivineTake my pitiful mind to a better place,
So I can see the brightest stars shine,
In that abysmal hope called space.
To reach out and touch a forbidden face,
Is the greatest gift anyone could find.
For I have witnessed in vast wonder,
The eternity before this epic I ponder,
Where no creature would consider his death.
But who am I to declare what is up or down?
Nothing is the name of hell in which I drown.
Take my woeful heart to a lesser worth,
So I can hear the darkest sighs scream,
In that dismal void called birth.
That genesis of so mysterious a mirth,
Is the coldest curse anyone could dream.
For I have listened to past laught
InspirationWhat inspires me?
I do not know.
Perhaps it's the sea?
Perhaps the winter glow?
My muse could be a song,
Sometimes even a phrase.
Maybe it's me all along,
My mind's imaginary craze.
It could be the guy,
Wearing aviator shades.
No way; but, I could try,
I'll write him in everglades.
The stars may be the reason,
Why I am enthused to compose.
Or, it could be the season,
Wait, did he just propose!?
What inspires me?
I could be sure it is you.
Your audience is my glee,
This is guaranteed true.
Turn On The Dark
When fragile hopes and fears collide
It waits for you on the other side
I can feel the tremors in my soul
I've grown afraid of the masquerade.
Barely holding on, I'm losing control
Wide awake, I confide in the shade.
Sinking so slowly down the drain
Much like the purple pill I swallow.
A voice unheard is a voice in vane
Black rain falls and teardrop's follow.
Shadows loom throughout the room
They cover my eyes like a veil.
Just flip the switch, it'll be over soon
Just pull the curtain over the pale.
The transition rattles my psyche at first
Yet it's a feeling I've always invited.
For when my body becomes submersed
Death DreamLast night I dreamt I died and went into the light
And despite the fact I tried was forced to watch this sight
Movies of each act that I performed on earth
They recorded every fact that I had done since birth
Each time I hurt a person or each time that I stole
When I started cursing or turned someone to the cold
When I ignored a beggar's hand or made a small child cry
Each time I failed to make a stand and each time that I'd lie
The times I cheated on my wife or told an ethnic joke
The mistakes I made in life were enough to make me choke
But when they saw my tears they told me to return
To alleviate my fears and for me to start to
Beast Of The BeautyWhen love flew before me
Longing for beauty
It kissed me while in my arms
I learned the truth on how to love
But love didn't learn the truth about me
When faith came to me
Full of purity and hope
I touched it while in its grasp
It learned the way on what I long for
But I didn't see the truth it showed
No more for love
No more for beauty
Innocence and hope
Are all what the world needs
No need for love
No need for belief
Truth and bliss
Are all what mankind needs
Fearless lust yearning for me
It's all I see what the world knows
It caressed my face
Possessed me from hope
Its darkness, there's nothing left for me to learn
Gehennadevils laugh, devouring our very existences
the world decolors itself
heaven cries, as it sheds its tears down to earth
drenched in distraught, I cling at the place they once called despair
doubts flowing, shattered me into bits
entangled in lies, and continous march of insanity
this curse called living
will I be able to be true to myself?
I want to forget, I want to be forgotten
don't let me become this part of hypocrisy
trapped in the maze of madness
what lies there at my destination?
until my tears become a trail
that I realize I still had the right to call myself "human"
hazy future, foggy roads
I muster my remaining stren
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The TypewriterThe Typewriter
It began and ended with a word.
Not a particularly strong or powerful word, but a word that changed everything. It wasn't too long or difficult to spell. It wasn't uncommon either. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary word, but, I suppose, its commonplace origin is what made it so special.
I loved that word.
But the word doesn't mean much without the story along with it and I was always one for telling good stories.
I ignored the call from the other room and remained seated. That tone wasn't unfamiliar. Taking a bite from my toast, I waited for him to call again. It wouldn't be more than ten—
"Sammy! Come q
I wonder if you're enjoying
the curvature of her back.
The spine, a row of ossified crowns
crowded and curved around that defining neural superhighway;
that extension cord,
adventurously connecting the visceral
to the peripheral.
The horseshoe crab vertebrae
scuttle to break through skin at your touch;
a defining shiver.
I see your hands
around the rounded hills of her shoulders.
Scapulae jutting out with the extremity of the bend,
like a chicken's wings.
And the bands of these dorsal muscles
stand up like wings,
cast shadows in the dimples of the pelvis that she lifts;
that will fold o
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More