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SoftI am lying in bed. It is so cold, my fingers have turned red. I hear you unlock the door, your footsteps echoing on the worn out carpet. You see my light is on "hey!" you yell. I yell "hey" back, and you move on down to your room.
I wrap my silk robe around myself, covering my pajamas. "Hey man, you wanna drink tonight?" My lips form the words, whilst my mind races, waiting for the answer. "Ha-ha, sure". "Cool, I will go get my brandy then." I slip into my room, grab my recent ex-boyfriends South African brandy and take it into the lounge, where you reside. My eyes flicker to the glasses you have set up, and the pure whiskey winks at me as you pour yourself a glass.
"Fucků we need some coke!" you exclaim, as I pour a nip of brandy in our striped water-drinking glasses. "I'm gonna pop down to the shop, you want anything?" "Ha-ha, no thanks, I am in my PJ's and can't be bothered getting out of them!" "Sweet", you say, as you grab your keys. "I'll be back" you call as the door shuts. I am
The sound of my nails pulling at the bricks echoes around my circular enclosure. I keep pulling, although pain is shooting along my figertips, through my hand and up my arm. I am determined to escape. I must escape.
The wind whispers through the small, barred window above me. Its voice biting viciously into my flesh and searing my bones. I pull my velvet dress tighter around my body, hoping to warm myself against it.
Beaten, I sit slowly on my bed. How many days, weeks, months have I been locked in here?
Looking around, it would be almost easy to think that my jail contained an Elizabethen princess. A large, ornately carved four poster bed with silk sheets and lace blankets... A large (unbreakable), gilded mirror and a rusted old chamber pot decorated, and served, my space.
He dressed me in fine clothes. Clothes that, on the outside, I would have died to have. Flowing dark red velvet dresses, wine coloured skirts, black lingere, corsets that squeezed my flesh into pulp, but made me loo
Lie down in the forest of orchids [a murder vixen].
I hear the lobotomised swarm of insects.
Swarming towards me, coming for me, running at me.
They perch themselves on my decaying shell.
They know I am alive, alive,
They know I can feel, feel,
They want me dead, dead,
The candles are burning low. I cannot gather the energy required to pull myself from between the silk black sheets that grip my thighs. The lighting is dim. I need to light more candles. But instead of crawling out of bed and lighting more candles, I pull the sheets up to the stubble on my chin and lie on my spine, glaring at the cigarette stained roof.
There is a deafening knock on my door. The sound resonates in my ears, climbing down my earlobe and resting in my cochlea. I groan and fall out of my bed. I rise and stumble to the door, scratching my arse on the way. I unlock the cheap chain and turn the plated silver knob.
"oh. It's you" I groan, letting her in and returning to the womb of my bed. She smiles vacantly and closes the door behind her. I hear the rattle of the chain as she locks us inside.
She smells like an ancient mosque. Like she always does. She sits beside me, her long black nails scraping down my thigh. I watch her hands move in their sensuous attempt and wish they
Adonta ta Mele
His hands are cancer,
His eyes are plasma
inhaling my virus
[deleting the one who painfully exists].
His mouth is brain fluid
swirling around my veins, encountering my rapid motions
[poisoning my psyche].
He is my depravity
my soul with no voice
singing to a choir of angels risen from Hitler's grave.
He is my chrotid artery,
severed and decaying
continuing to live when
His persona is mine,
dry, sardonic and dead.
He is alive,
in a plastic martini world.
I swallow his glass dust
and hate myself for it.
Chained to the moon he sits
shivering in the warmth of the
His paper skin is torn by
black ink needles over his
The rain drips, e.v.a.p.o.r.a.t.i.n.g
down his naked
Pallid grey eyes fill with salt
as a mixed psychosis spills into his cupped
His silent screams of indecipherable messages and
black voids of suffering are passively excreted from his sanguinary
Borderline and bleeding, he speaks of
broken dolls, lost words and
His sinuous junkie arms move [like a child reaching for forbidden candy]
as he reaches toward the invisible thread of hope life promises
Walking back into the dark he mutters to the moths as his
eyes spil glass... transforming him into a bleeding
In my head
A gift from Heaven
A curse from Hell
Destroying my being
From the inside
And leaving nothing behind
Descentfirst noticed is the
an invasion of his ears
as in an auditorium
viewing the vivisection of
slicing away at
all that he is
body shattering into
thousands of cells
scattering to the winds
spells cast by the wicked
from antiquated books
anyone could acquire
all bear a curse
that cannot be denied
may be the cause of it
if it is not admitted
cannot be a figment
creeping shadows watching
rending the friable curtain
separating rational thought
from the other side
devoid of light and trust
ragged gashes gape
infinite gulf beckons hideously
an irresistible pull
scraping off clinging lucidity
lo, a brush against the hand
a thin filament
flimsy as spider silk
tenacious as a spider’s web
to this he clings
tenuous grasp on
As My Veins Turn Red Again
Within darkness I writhe, as his whispering blows wither my lips to autumn,
I know every stone of this floor, colored with congealed carmine that oozed off my eye
Your talons grasp my shoulder, a vulture clutching carrion close to it's beak
Your serpent fangs shatter all sensation in my shoulder
your knife makes my broken veins howl for plasma, your purple haze chokes the air off me
A crown of thorns are the remnants of my pride crying its demise,
As you whisper your howled haunted horrific hallucinations
The cries of my dried throat have been clasped in unheard silences.
A false sunrise grasps my heart in its leather fingers,
My eyes open greyyed with the smoke of your cigar
No more can I choke down my own blood boiled to black clumps
Acid runs in my veins, ruins in my cheeks, eats me in-out
Your cane strikes and blade slits, spelling out your pleasure
But as you make your last slash, the lioness inside me erupts at last.
The last slash still burns but I escaped my chains,
tore from y
Mendel's garden invasionThe garland devil leaves his daughters to roam sour gardens,
to squeeze perfume across their necks like lemons.
Sisters six mock Split-limes for her craving to lock candles in her lips:
Limes is a blunted thought-machine, a muted philosopher
but her sheets shake with magic,
each master watches his gooseflesh bubble like champagne.
I can rub old wine and apple slime deep into my pores,
But lemons, I shall never wear lemons,
the slur to existence, sliding down god's lungs.
Our den was never a cathedral, sisters six,
your bloodline quivers with a wild sin
bitten from the freedom tree.
The tasteless soil expels the girls who drip,
leaving the garland devil to roam their necks,
wryly tending lemon trees.
GONE - poemAs we walk
embittered by the thought
In the dome of death
we try to stay thoughtless
Though we all can't deny
the smell of decay
the fire coming out of the woods
The constant fear running through our veins
We have to accept
We cannot avoid
While we make our plans
Defend our homes
Fight away these horrific creatures
We all have the same thought in the back of your head
Whether the dome will fade or stay,
We will die anyway
Betwixt Loving BloodDeathly still in grey soft smoke her whisper clear
Warm breath tempting misty memory within
Seduction gleaning soon invoke dim silhouette appear
Rose petals resting upon cold porcelain
Dreaming of silky vanilla divine
Golden leaf riding silver tide
White chocolate and blood red wine
For ethereal beauty I abide
Mystery weaving raven hair
Compelled by firelight dancing allure
Glistening before me feminine fair
Black latex immaculate maiden grandeur
Oh pale mistress bathed by moonlight
Your fiery eyes beseech me so
Vixen seductress of sweet twilight
Intoxicating grasp your crimson glow
Candles melting moist ivory skin
Lips of cherry against delicate lace
Lure everlasting veil made thin
Bewitching gaze mystical embrace
You haunt me in ecstasy electric desire
Charming my senses unspeakable bliss
Spectral enchantress for whom I aspire
May I appeal just one single kiss?
Sapphire eyes begin to sheen
Crescent grin and nod of her head
Gliding closer yet still in between
Upon the velvet for her I
HangingThe wooden door
in her chest
by what reality
they wished to exist
she was a witch
in their existence
but just another
human in hers.
A vampire never dies.Her hair made of moonlight
lighter then her skin
her red eyes full of sorrow
the vampire sits
surrounded by splendor and riches
everything a young girl could dream for
but a vampire never dies.
Her heart mourns
knowing she has killed thousands
knowing she can never die
longing for the other world
for this one cannot fill the emptiness in her heart.
Blood can no longer quench her thirst
toys and gold, cannot cure her sorrow
the pain in knowing the thousands she killed
the pain in knowing, she cannot die
drives her to kill again.
to drink down the delicious blood
to forget her sorrow
for just a moment
to drown it in the blood of others.
to see the blood fall from there necks
as she licks it up.
For just a moment
she can drown her sorrow
lost in another ones blood.
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
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