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NarcolepsyShrunken eyes, hollow cheeks,
Worn out after several weeks,
Of exertion and sleeplessness,
Now bordering on weakness,
On hard floor or a bed with sheet,
Just about to drop on my feet,
Hoping to go into a long sleep,
And to drift off in the deep,
Yet not a second of shuteye,
In feeble consciousness I lie,
A mind in ongoing process,
Keeps thinking in excess,
Depriving me of the night,
When I should be sleeping tight,
Distracting me at day,
When I should be pegging away,
Thus not allowed any repose,
Not even a minute to doze,
Wakefulness is ever present,
To set me in torment.
You, My LoveYou, my love, are cloaked in fat and impenetrable layers of arrogance and disdain, so much it makes the naked body inside sweat of discomfort and shake with the irresistible desire for nudity and freedom.
You, my love, are veiled in light and airy sheets of cordiality and love, so much it makes the naked body inside palpitate of forbearance and yearn for the true expression of hatred and bestiality.
You, my love, adore your reflection cast on the eyes of the fanatic world.
You, my love, loathe your reflection cast on the mirror of your dark bedroom.
You, my love, are a darling.
You, my love, are a monster.
But you, my love, let me peel the films of your personality,
And contemplate your reality,
And make love to your nudity.
Let Me BeLet me be the healer of your wounds,
The appeaser of your fears,
The drinker of your tears,
The spirit of your laughter,
The confidant of your secrets,
The advocate of your guilt,
The lawyer of your crimes,
The defender of your selfishness,
The promoter of your hypocrisy,
The enemy of your enemy,
The admirer of your flaws,
The sharer of your shame,
The satisfier of your lust,
The supporter of your pride,
The dissipator of your grief,
The knower of your fetish,
The sower of your success,
The reaper of your failure,
The scapegoat of your misdeeds,
The victim of your illnesses,
The pacifier of your anger,
The handler of your craze,
The remedy of your obsession,
The hope of your nihilism,
The meaning of your meaninglessness,
The moderation of your restlessness,
The supplicator of your prayers,
The subject of your hatred,
The opener of your mind,
The explorer of your true self,
The artist of your fake image,
The comforter of your vulnerability,
The contemplator of your weakness,
SalvationLull me to eternal sleep,
Over my death don’t weep,
Deprive me of my existence,
And suffer no repentance,
For ‘tis my wish to depart,
So at rest can be your heart,
Free from my selfish grip,
Liberated from my ownership,
Then can it breathe as it pleases,
Without it be victim of my diseases,
And live however it wishes,
Without it be under my leashes,
And love whoever it desires,
Without it be tied to my wires,
So, at once, do cease my breath,
So I can have a peaceful death,
And you can have a peaceful living,
Without having to hate me uselessly grieving,
A sweet death by your own hands,
This is the last of my demands,
‘Tis for your own deliverance,
From my possession,
‘Tis for my own deliverance,
From my obsession.
Love StoryThree magic words whispered,
Got her dainty heart conquered,
Their orator being a gallant youth,
Gentleman by sight but heartbreaker in truth,
Who came claiming his weakness,
For the damsel he called a goddess,
His early attempts being shy,
It was his way of being sly,
Lavishing her with sweet words,
Made her think they were lovebirds,
While he sought nothing but attention,
The stroke to his ego and gratification,
He’d come as a handsome surprise,
A deceiver in Romeo’s disguise,
Plotting to take advantage,
Of her beauty and young age,
In ways she’d never even sense,
The hypocrisy in his deference,
His two-facedness she saw not,
For in love her wits she forgot,
Never minding his reputation of flirt,
Nor realizing his intents of dirt,
Thus gave she her entire trust,
To a player so full of lust,
Blinded by his strong passion,
Being nothing but pretension,
His interest dying with time,
Till tedious turned his pastime,
Then came the great betrayal,
Of any love his definite
OverthinkingI am lost in the maze,
Of my mind,
The tracks of thoughts,
Are clouded by haze,
The way I can’t find,
At a high rate,
One figment planted,
It spreads and,
More and more,
More than before,
There’s no coming back,
To the seed,
It’s a one-way track,
Further down it’ll lead,
It’s a pit,
There’s no limit,
In the abyss of my mind,
Of all sorts,
But I leave it all behind,
Daring not acknowledge,
Anything, it purports,
Nothing, to you,
To me too,
So, come save,
Me, from the abyss,
Of my imagination,
Dark as a cave,
I am lost,
Of overthinking it’s the cost.
La moraleL’homme se mit à réfléchir sur ce qu’il n’avait jamais jadis réfléchit: la morale. Certes, c’était là un sujet d’une complexité énorme; le grand point d’interrogation de tous philosophes et philosophies. Néanmoins, c’était pour tous les hommes, une chose (Je dis bien ‘chose’, car nulle définition ne peut faire justice à la véritable signification du mot.) dont le savoir et la conformité fussent d’une nécessité absolue. C’était pourtant absurde qu’on accordait tant d’importance à ce qu’on comprenait à peine. Et comment puis-je juger qu’on le comprenait à peine? Eh bien, il fallait simplement demander la question: « Qu’est-ce la morale ? » Comme réponses, de longues théories ou un silence total suffisaient comme preuve qu
L'Ancien poeteL’ancien poète désespéré trouva refuge dans le fond de son verre. Le vin fut pour lui la tisane qui dissipa de gorgée à gorgée sa douleur, issue de sa grande perte d’inspiration poétique. Il espéra reconquérir dans l’ivresse les rimes qu’il avait autrefois délaissées pour la réalité. En effet, il avait appris que cette dernière était loin de ce que décrivaient les poètes et les poèmes, et, voulant faire face aux choses réelles, décida de renoncer à son fanatisme d’art : il cessa d’écrire. Hélas, ce fut son plus grave erreur. La penne posée, il reçut très mal la vérité de la vie, et il comprit alors qu’il valait mieux s’illusionner dans des rimes que de vivre une si cruelle réalité. Mais l’aisance de l’
The Common ManThe common man was a man stuffed with suppressed emotions; emotions that, if let out, could lead to disastrous ends. But once suppressed, their ardor didn’t just cease, for it was merely a matter of temporary quietening and the deferral of their outburst; like that wailing baby who gets diverted for seconds by a newfound toy, but whose cries take up sooner or later. Except that in the case of the common man, the consequences could go well beyond that, even to the extent of theft, murder, rape, incest and whatnot or yet, why not? After all the common man by nature was human, and humans by nature are beastly. There is but little morality when it comes to visceral drives. And so, the muffled vehemence, buried somewhere in the corners of his soul, still abided; like a chained beast locked in a dungeon, whose howls and growls and thirst to go off the deep end resonated only as an agitated throbbing. In fact, the common man had learned to appease and live with the beast inside hi
wishing wells and pumpkin shells
coffee with mint cream
wedding bells and magic spells
life is but a dream
mother says it's rain today
drought's been sixteen years
pigs will fly and cats will stray
seventeen brings tears
hooting owls and leopard prowls
burn the midnight sun
men with jowls eat fattened cows
never had such fun
father says it's time to go
new year's 'round the bend
can't be late for nature's show
fish-face now the trend
dreamer's dream and lover's love
wishing time would fly
blue moonbeam on heaven's dove
hope I never die
Breaking news.The government makes status––
they ignore the real matters
they own the news
they confuse and abuse
making sure we're all scattered.
The law creates crime––
a social ladder we must climb
always the poor
stuck on the floor
as the privileged spend their time.
Society ignites fear––
blurring anything clear
as real life is nowhere near.
The system makes criminals––
while stealing the Earths minerals
raising the price
feeding the vice
locking us away, for lacking principles.
The people are losing their souls––
giving up on their genuine goals
working nine to five
pretending they're alive
when they're completely under control.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
I Fell AsleepI fell asleep
In the arms of the enemy.
My worst mistake,
As I let his words get to me.
I left my life
In the hands of a killer.
I trusted my blood
To a man who's a murderer.
I closed my eyes
As he lulled me away.
I loosened my grip
As he began to sway.
I fell asleep
In the arms of the enemy.
I lost my life,
but I lost my life willingly.
In MorningThrough a wintry window laced with ice, lie
petrified panes of frosted grass beckoning,
languorously outstretched. A shivering bird’s cry
reaches horizon’s edge—that razor reckoning,
those impossible dimensions—hung like a kite
on a cloud, precipitously balanced between a null,
navigated nocturnally by poking pinpricks of light,
and the embers of potential, slowly stoking. A lull
unfurls, a quiet eternity uncurling in that predawn
chill, everything faded to silent sepia, frozen
as though this instant is more important, torn
from time and left right where it was chosen
to be. Light spills over and creeps through
fractured, flinty sky turned a clear, unbroken blue.
You Are Unchanging Now That You ChangedLike the echo of a whisper you go on pointlessly
Dragging out syllables that no longer make sense.
You are a shadow of the man that you used to be;
You threw all of that away for this new pretense.
Like an ages old tradition you never change -
You meet challenges lifelessly - never daring.
This new plastic you has no depth and no range.
You blazed like the sun now you are cold and uncaring.
The Old Man on the HillThere once was a man
who lived on a hill,
Quiet and lonely
and incredibly still.
He sat there all day.
And he sat there all night.
He sat without moving
and never felt fright.
Then one day
as he sat all alone
He heard a voice
"Is he a stone?"
One little girl
and one little boy
must have lost their way
while tracking a toy!
The real meaning of friendshipFriendship
Kidding around turns into
Remembering painful times
Ignoring the painful truth that lies ahead
Ending all hope
Never finding any good in it
Demanding they be there for you but they never
Seem to keep their promise of staying
Heartache and loneliness always comes at the end
Insightful friends are nothing but a myth
Promises broken and pitying oneself
Tick TockTick tock goes the clock
It's all a little hazy,
Tick tock she's in shock
The girl that we call Lacey
Little lines cut her neck
But no one wants to see them
All her friends wish she were dead
But no one wants to be them
One or two can make it through
The Hell that she lives in
But nothing that they say is true
So no one can believe it
Her life is just a bunch of rags
There's nothing that can save her
Her breathing comes in heavy drags
Each saying "You Deciever"
Tick tock goes the clock
It's all a little hazy
Tick tock she's a rock
The body we call Lacey
SuicideThe drawback of suicide is
there was a time I did exist.
If only there was a way
to erase all that away.
No-one left to remember me.
I would never want that.
No-one left to miss me.
I wouldn't deserve it anyway.
No-one to wonder why I couldn't stay.
You wouldn't understand the answer.
No-one left to hate me.
To think I was selfish.
No pressure to remain here
just to keep you happy.
If only there was a way.
To erase everything away...
RevengeVengeance is to linger,
Still is the vehement hunger,
Upon thy I loathe and dread,
We then be both fairly dead,
Yes, we, you'll die with me,
The damnation forever be,
Murder love, murder you,
I've loved you, that is true,
But you released my wrist,
And faded in the mist,
I suffered in silence,
Agonized in your absence,
Then revenge grew in my heart,
And rage began to start,
Now am no more slave of time,
I've come to avenge your crime.
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Lilyas has dedicated herself to making our community a brighter place with her vibrant artwork and infectious enthusiasm for interacting with others in our community. It has certainly paid off, as many deviants flock to her page on a daily basis to let her know how much of an inspiration she is. We absolutely agree, and couldn't let all that hard work go without recognition, so it's with great pride that we bestow the Deviousness Award for March 2014, to ... Read More