“Knock knock knock on heaven’s door”


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Inhaling despair

Catching smoke

Puking knowledge not earned

Needing lifeless love in the lustful desires on the windowsill 

Jumping off beds into the abyss 

Broken bashed hearts oozing gore for blood

Black cemetaries under skies

Eyes gouged out to fill with tears 

I want

I want

I want

Yet I’ll never have.

Caged in this “mortal Coil”! 

Screeching for freedom instead of death.

We never learn! 


This post is protected under copyright which is yet another unrealistic b.s. in this popularized shopping mall of a world.


Ivy thorns…


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Bitten sore spots of ivy thorns,

Bore the smiles worn by sea men on marshes.

Thus spoke dead leaves of days forgotten, 

Of hours witnessed by the shrouds, of slaughtering heroism.

Hear me ye young clouds, tonight the skies shall weep for due children of the earth. 

For they’ll inherit the blood moors! 

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Rise from the ashes of your lungs to see the stars shining through your eyes. They tell stories of the past lives never lived, yet forgotten by us. Past chances never mattered when ignored through the closed windows.

Souls yearn; no, they burn to see the fresh air outside of the body but to do so dying is required. Everyone is baffled by the entanglement of his/her soul on the inside. Everyone is in pain. No one can escape the confinements of this body; the eternal ethereal prison we call home. It reeks half the time and the other half searches for a purpose, a way to survive, to matter in a world where nothing matters anymore; no religion, no ideology, no salvation, no utopia, nothing is out there; no god awaits our return. We came from nowhere. We’re not going anywhere.

We’re all stuck here. Why?

No title whatsoever…


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I rebel. I make mistakes. I shoot myself 

In the foot. I put my foot in my mouth. I break 

The eggshells I’m walking on. I rebel.
I quit my unstarted job.

I beg on the street and give 

Passerbys money to go. I drink water like wine

And wine as water. I rebel.
I come close to murdering 

My shadow. I look in the mirror and spill

Coffee on my reflection.

I shout my name in the shower. I rebel.


This copyright law is under protest!

Take a deep breath (and hold it!)


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Wondrous birds of prey sank their teeth in to shut the agony fighting the raging in to barter every soul to hell was a master stroke in the paramount importance of a queer mind yet unquenched by the ravages of time to be alone in the murderous silence of the lambs asymmetrical to the grossly unrealized tigers with so much fur to carry across time my brain couldn’t fathom poor tiny monsters Monday mornings going to work for the corporate fat cats who enjoy a good mouse once in a while if any since all the mice have poisoned human souls with their misinterpreted folly, joy!


This post is monotonously under copy-unforgiving-rights.



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Ideas float in a jar like the dead in the afterlife, Greek style.

Don’t bother solving problems,

Don’t shout!

All the mercy is pointless,

We all are some cavemen,

Monsters! Rounding applause for our victory.

You’re just saying sorry 

When I’m dead.

I liked you and I’m set.


This post is under copyright. 



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Stress! My beautiful monster!

Stress! Surviving through me 

All the wild ideas.

Tearing at me, pulling pieces away from my heart.

Heart strings are being unknitted, wishing my 

Youth away.

Oh stress! My strange monster! 

My beautiful monster!

Mo love!


This post is under copyright.