

AcidityI've always wondered if I am a sadist Or a masochist. Now I've come to the conclusion That I must be a sadist.Acidity
I can tell what I'm saying is hurting you, Lots of little slices like broken glass in your skin, As I see you wince from the words that slur from my breath. Good.
I keep my tongue sharpened and packed with venom, Ready to inject anyone who does me wrong. I want the toxic words to work their evil magic, Slow but surely consuming you, eating you alive.
So why is it that I keep letting you poison me?


My WorldYou are the blood that runs through my veins. You are the wind across my neck. Your intoxicating scent is thick, It carves itself into the stone of my memory. You are my world.. I love you.My World


Time PassesA second goes by, You ask yourself why You're even trying again.Time Passes
Minutes go past, You couldn't mask The feeling you had inside.
An hour passes, Thick as molasses,
Find yourself going nowhere.
Days fly past, Weeks surpassed, Ask yourself why you do this.
Weeks into months, Months into years. This feeling you have Must bring you to tears.


like radio staticYou used to love the month of October.like radio static
October meant leaves the color of fire, air that smelled like hay and cider, and carving pumpkins. It meant we could spend the night of Halloween getting shit drunk and watching reruns of horror films and fucking against your bathroom mirror.
My name sounded so much better rolling from your lips, scattered between moans and slipping into my ear. But by the time it reached my brain, it sounded broken and fuzzy. Like radio static.
~
You pretended to hate apple pie, you really did. My mom would make it for us every time the 30th of October came about, and we
--
I can not stand
who i am I'm this man
with this blood on my hands
in this blood I am damned
so watch my wings burn
as they burn in the fire
Don't scatter the ashes
no need for the choir
--- Hollywood Undead
xo!
--
I am a poetry admin for *DailyLitDeviations.
interested in collaborating?
writer, photographer, painter, whatever(er) -
I'll mix with words with anything you've got.
--
Sorry, but my karma just ran over your dogma.
--
Yes, these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I am comfortable with that. I am enlightened.
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