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Literature Text
are you still savoring
the taste of deceit
off the edge
of your limerick tongue?
you know what i mean
you "poet of unusual sorts,"
with your
chaotic green eyes
and skin of pale misfortune
leaving scents of sweet seas when oceans
begin to spite you.
yes, your silent panthers,
loyal only to the sound of sonnets
of broken piano chords
and keys and torn six-strings.
those slithe things will
prove to you
once,
that betrayal is just eight letters
of pleasure undercover.
it's these little beauties that
will make you see;
every liar was an artist
and every poet was a whore,
just till the point
they owned you no more.
every limerick was a trap
and every stroke a cry;
and my every little breath,
sweet deceit strolling by.
the taste of deceit
off the edge
of your limerick tongue?
you know what i mean
you "poet of unusual sorts,"
with your
chaotic green eyes
and skin of pale misfortune
leaving scents of sweet seas when oceans
begin to spite you.
yes, your silent panthers,
loyal only to the sound of sonnets
of broken piano chords
those slithe things will
prove to you
once,
that betrayal is just eight letters
of pleasure undercover.
it's these little beauties that
will make you see;
every liar was an artist
and every poet was a whore,
just till the point
they owned you no more.
every limerick was a trap
and every stroke a cry;
and my every little breath,
sweet deceit strolling by.
Literature
After Words
"I wish you would give it back to me."
"Why? You'll just break it again."
"It's my heart. I will do whatever the hell I want with it."
"Yeah? Well, you take terrible care of things that are yours."
"Fine. Keep it. I am equal parts concrete and soul anyway."
"You say that, but I'm not entirely sure that you are. I think you're deep, and fragile and broken, and that makes you beautiful."
"Again, concrete and soul. "
"I wish you wouldn't make this so hard."
"So hard? I'm making this easy. You gave me dreams of half feathered swans and a stupid house on an endless beach and a city made of an ocean, and now you're taking it all away. But a
Literature
Wish for Privacy
I live behind a locked door,
And no one has the key.
It has been years, maybe more
Since someone talked to me.
The solitude was nice at first,
The quiet let me think.
But soon it took a turn for worse
Now all I do is blink.
So be careful, my dear friends,
When you wish for privacy.
Count to 5 when patience bends
Or you'll end up just like me.
Literature
In Case You're Bored
In Case You're Bored:
For those who are bored with seeing teenage relationships on the FP. Here is a bonus, Disturbed-style, Chen piece to entertain you all.
What Lives Inside of Me:
Locked away inside
Dreaming of evil rising up in me
Let me play with your-
I will break through the walls of sanity
Leave me pure inside
Take away all of my humanity
Will I kneel before-
The corpses stained by the need for your sanctity?
Will you be mine? Or will I break you again-
The beast is swelling up inside of me
A temptuous lie, from the moment that you denied
The demon that you knew you grew to be
The swirling mist of a blood red fog...
De
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"all of my life i’ve been a lost satellite
it’s all a waste of time with me
before i get it right
and i miss you paradise
although you’re over"
-- miss you paradise; emma hewitt.
it’s all a waste of time with me
before i get it right
and i miss you paradise
although you’re over"
-- miss you paradise; emma hewitt.
- we're all liars.
© 2012 - 2024 your-methamphetamine
Comments148
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your black as fuck son,