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Hurting For Christmassi am not stupid
i am not fucking crazy
i am a living thing
with feelings and shit
i pray it's true
that you reap what you sew
everybody gets whats due
someday everyone shall know
i shouldn't be hurting
at this time of year
my own stigmata
scars for christmass
and a generous helping of tears
Afraidfear-the dominant emotion,
when i think of what i am trying to embrace.
to think that you are really different,
so different that i could trust you.
i am begging you with all my being...
do not make me regret changing.
to do so would be the end of everything.
you could crush me with one misdeed,
be careful, or i will die.
it is you, my last chance, my only hope.
hold me, i am afraid.
Sorryi am sorry for being inadequate,
and for not being there when it counts.
someone else will do these things,
in my place, but i must admit,
it feels like spit on my face.
spit, coming down from god,
as i read the sign labeled "don't look up."
as i stumble through a mess of feelings,
telling me i don't measure up.
damaged and unable to help it,
all these things make me feel like shit.
sorry, for wanting to hurt myself,
something i said i had quit.
Signs With No Postsi know about signs that don't stand up,
always misread, always misled.
i know about chambers with nothing inside,
wanting to die, no bullet for the head.
to merely maim instead of kill,
sometimes to avoid, sometimes for the thrill.
to cause myself harm instead of death,
with heated metal, or too many pills.
to wonder when instead i want to wander.
to stay when all i want is to leave.
you can't open up in a shell with no door.
wonder how i'll leave, can't get off the floor.
masking pain with drugs prescribed.
self prescribe drugs just to feel alive.
borrowing drugs when you've took too much.
using drugs for a broken life's crutch.
signs with no posts are always misread.
empty chamber, no bullet for the head.
hurting myself to avoid or for thrills.
branding myself, taking too many pills.
An Ancient Futurehistory repeats like a hypnotic beat
ages come and go
oceans in time strobe with ebb and flow
caught in endless loops
reality bound in infinite hoops
in omnipotence these creators know
small details discarded for the master plan
mistaken for ignorance
no matter as long as the big picture stands
infinite looms project infinite weaves
stacked in layers of madness
only the width of reality is seen
in depths unknown
in fields of infinity the seeds are sewn
after forever lies an ancient future
The Empty Shelldear love,
why do i feel detached from everything good or positive?
why must only the negative affect me so profoundly?
negative thoughts and emotins come so easily to me.
while the good things i am dying to feel seem disembodied.
it is almost like another person is feeling what i wish for.
it's killing me to think i cannot give you the love you deserve.
i want and need help but don't know how or who to ask.
so i am begging you to be patient and wait for me to come alive somehow.
i don't know what you see in me. i am an empty shell, hollow.
only bad things get in, the rest is filtered out.
mom, dad, and you are the best things i have.
yet i feel that in one way or another i am seperated from each of you.
sometimes these things make me want to die.
except i'm afraid to die, like i might miss something to fill my emptiness.
that something will always be fleeting or negative unless i can change.
i will love you always,
the empty shell
Masterplanwhen crucified they say
he died for our sins
how many wars lead back to that day?
how much blood has been spilled ever since?
i'd rather live with my sins
than be told to kill or die for Him
if there ever was a master-plan
made by an omnipotent invisible man
omnipotence suggests you know how things will play
then why do we get punished by a God
who already knows we can't abide his ways?
made to be imperfect
created to fear and worship
but does it make sense to fear one who "loves" us?
to beg and pray in wails that rise up above us
my disbelief is what helps me survive
i am not blinded by your master-plans lies
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More