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when I just had that thought
he who dies with the most toys wins, eh?
asemic and anumeric
process and reality
being and time
time and the other
for some young mind to be aroused by
in sixty years
Untitledhello my name is Yellow Pisscunt
how is your prodigious unicorn today
I betrayed myself to the single
I hate him because he gets to be who he is and nothing more
how can I be more
I am not enough people for me
how can I become two
I think seven would be enough
for all of me to be me
but now I wr8ite shit
and live on divine blood
tainting my lips
and it stops when I don't want it to
and I want to never stop
but my being itself
as I know it
is the kind that stops
which terrifies me
all the time
burning through goo
so many leaking tubes
goo calls new tubes home
and the call me
while I should be gone
away from mundane stress
but they find me
and I can't get away
I can't get out
always stuck being less me than I need to be
UntitledWhat was it for?
The long nights in the basement,
the only-sleep-when-I-pass-out-from-exhaustion lifestyle,
the passionate suffering,
what was it all for?
The endless war,
damn this infernal transformation.
Does it fall on me to document the struggles of a generation,
a generation that watches every triumph become trivial,
a generation that waits for itself to become obsolete,
the generation forced to condemn temporality,
the generation to witness the end of temporality as it dies the last deaths?
God floats in a pool of His own blood.
The masters wipe their asses with angel feathers.
The curious are left for dead.
drinking cold coffee across from two ex-loversnew book: running my fingers over embossed letters
in better light i realise the texture is dried spit. i'm okay about it
until the BBC panics deadpan about one brit with ebola. when everyone
caught swine flu we dispensed sanitizer in shop doorways, schools
hung them in the foyer and purell
made a lot of money.
clinging to the kitchen sink, i pull nails out of my mouth
and scrub my hands antiseptic. google tells me not to worry
but crusty phlegm attaches me umbilical to west africa;
sierra leone; dislocated countrymen
connected by snot. like a kid, i keep getting my fingers
between my teeth.
exaggeration tastes like boiled paint.
Gong of Super Gonebuilt in bone yard of its smile
whittled a tick from sawn-off while
in fuselage frown did seem to marry
the crashed in dreams it could not carry
cant seem to feel your face your name
flickering thru your place of flame
subductionjust west of civilization
with oddly human burdens
carved cryptic tableau
that graphically shows
the first match strike of our self-immolation
and god bless the pagans!
with their hand-fashioned stares and
that keep us ensnared
in our retrofit stations
and oh those shadowzone smiles
the light the darker the shadow
working for monsters in diguise
Like A Candle in the Snuff Windyour deserted corneas crumbling neath the sun shrinks my heart to nothing with you......
the sound of the boiled sweet turning in your smug mouth makes me want to throttle u thru
it sends your mummy reeling to the hospital- with more red tape than bandages
human boomerangsscattering enriched guts
are we scientists or just
some kids who wanted to get laid
conceiving maps to non-existent places
and limitless paper for a paperless world
Pain in LightWearing hollow smiles
concealing their true emotions and faces
the populace damns the lives given to them
born within the world's toxicity
The words of death
quiver from the commons lips each day
drifting on the trail to forever
where pain is constantly lingering
Some plea with knowing eyes
that they can still impress footsteps upon the earth
and take in the illusive atmosphere of our debased planet
Others pray with closed eyes to a weightless god
while hanging to the precarious threads of faith
for a better reality
Where pain is constantly tussled with happiness
is but a falsely whispered cry
uttered from stillborn dreams
held within the phantom arms
of an ethereal hope
no dreams for you tonightcurled up on the bed again:
the whirlpool won't take me
"just ragged skin
wrapped around bones"
i knocked on the door,
but no answer came
and the bones won't change
and the lines won't fade.
time doesn't heal a damn thing,
the dagger sinks into you
deeper and deeper.
HEY! STOP PULLING THE PETALS OFF MY FUNERALpre tear droplets
hung out to dry
across the cord
from brain to eye
out front is a smiling riding in a sadness passing by
In laymen's terms you hid yer tears behind yer pork pies
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More