These Words these words...striped nakedexposedbruises on displayfine art livingin a museum of realityis this adulthood?is this childhood?is this heaven,hell-somewhere in between?crying out loud- clawingat pillows, tearstainedsweet love gone tosoured painforgiveness comes - yet betrayalof urgent trust fromdamaged goods that knowdeeper love, compassionthan self-proclaimedtrashzombie brained- what shame,crying out loud- clawingat brittle hair, grungy skinshattered heartholding on, fighting backin maliced spite.no, the answer is no.no.no.no.try to breaka heart.
Damaged Goods i suppose the wordcomfortablecould describe feelings about rapebeatings, psychic burnings, mind aslyums that I hadendured all on my own- so small, so oftenfragilebut yet still inside pristineno one ever broke megot to meinvaded meviolated metook a part of who I am away from me.cruelty they didn't know, animals they weresickly and deserving of a graveyard holei learned mercy.merci beaucoup, mon cheri!-car vous êtes la pluscruelle des animaux!le diable a mangé votre âme,vous lui avez donné comme une fête.broke me into piecesonce, twice, thriceYOUmade me this, you selfish f
Satire - NTLS NCLB, No Tree Left Standing, and Jeffrey Hernandez: The Future of the American Public Education System At the dawning of the century, the Palm Beach County School District was under the duress of a failing education system filled with under-achieving brainiacs, a steady roll of average Joes and Joettes, and a gaggle of stragglers that couldn't tell the difference between Texas and California if it was handed to them on a gilded platter. Underpaid, overworked teachers, the plague of our educational system, demanded the immediate attention of district officials who were facing the enraged outcries of parents whose children were being denied
Truth Be Told Truth Be Toldthere's thisproblemwith everything:poetry, bloodthat bleeds and oozesfrom lips,woundsas though the lifein those ever-twisting-twisted-words were breathingsomething new;screeching loudly to beheard-but yet it's different versionsof the same:statements all identicalundefinableuntangiblediscipled, compulsivesoldieresque thoughts allin this itty bitty row.1,2,3,4,51,2,3,4,5tap,tap,tap,tap,taptap,tap,tap,tap,tapsick,sick,sick,sick,sicktellmewhatthefckisthispandoric nirvanajust existing in itno escaping it.acid rolling, streakingstriations of doubt,abuse, derision, decis
Rape this vessel is hollowthough it is not empty-sacred, splintered, takenbruised with old wounds flayeda memorium to potentialstripped away by man's decay.it is a ripened ovadelicate, light and rawcradling within the hope of lifedespite it being small.it grows in pained reflectionextending out to touch its boundsto find that they confine it-this vessel is now a prisonerits hopes lay shattered on the ground.no nourishment to provide it-dormant lies its inner stirringsas the vessel weakensmalice and self-hatred slowly oozingstagnant grows its life-curling inwards from the lightas the lotus blossom at the da
Bipolar II: As Seen On Lithium My world is black and whiteno shades of graynor in betweensor getaways-don't speak, don't breathedon't walk away!don't leave me here-don't let it allend up this way -just these flat, endless walls of blank inspirationinterior windows giving sight to no directions-graced upon by tender eyes laced with Adam's gilded tearslips whose pleading whispersmelt upon deafened ears.There is no mirror to my Neverworld,where laughter is drawn with pain entwirled-just this simple rift:a voidblack and whiteall sense devoid.
Butterfly and Moth you aremothand Ibutterflyalike in many waysbut not the same.you flutter yourwings- grey, dustyto carry yourselftowards afalse beaconof hope projectedoutside yourselffor protectionconvenience, comfort.i emerge from my asylum's chainsbeating, beatingfragile wings sooften broken-struggling uptowards the light of dawn.for you,this day shall never break.for me,this day has justbegun.
I, Beloved of Azrael Staring through a mirror to a backwards face,Streaked with tears so hot they mark her cheeks,Like molten lava scars the Earth: explosive, remorseless, destructiveHer heart like raging dynamite.She punches herself, to see the painThe sevenfold horror she brought her soulCrimson smears the Madonna's mantle,As she spreads Life's nectar, mindlessAcross the staring fresh-bruised face.Reaching forward, hands like gnarled talonsTo grasp the throat of the one she blames:A squeeze, deliberateHer serpentine demons,Asphyxiate her slowly.Eyes closing, she driftsAnd rises up upon the clouds To meet her Chamuel,And in hi
Sta.sh
