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You hold hand and say,"let's make peace." But your hands feel like steel and.... your breath is cold.I search your eyes and all I see is shadows,where remorse never resides.You lean over and kiss my cheek,and then you kick my foot, yet you call this....love? You take me for a fool and humiliate me in crowds, then whisper love in dark corners...... you call that love?? You watch me in amusement as I wander off in the dark and come running to me after I have broken my bones and stumbled. ..... Don't hold my hand brother,for this is hypocrisy.Yes,I love you,but I am certainly not stupid nor blind.I choose to walk away than to embrace beauty adorned in lies,deceit and manipulation.I refuse to hold your hand thick with dishonesty.Go your way........as I go mine.
A toxic relationship with one sided effort.
Damocles Apr 22
Devil in your eyes
Devils always lie
Keep your hands seated to the side
Don’t you dare come close unless you’re willing to die

Keep away
Walk away
Stay far from me

Demon on your tongue
****** likes it rough,
Red flags paper the verdant eyes
And I’m fading into madness
Bullseyes locked onto the danger

Keep away,
Walk away,
Stay away from me?

Secrets in serpent tongues
Slithering in your grassy knolls
Desperate to assassinate my love
I remain bulletproof,
Reading your ritual tomes,
Sacrifice your dignity for a little notice
Did that attention give you all you ever wanted?
When you’re knee deep in your bile and sick?

Keep away,
Walk away,
Stay far away from me
Go there, now, away from me.
something i write messing with drum and bass lines in garageband and fiddling on the guitar
Alex Jun 2024
I saw you in the water
I wonder if you'll make me drown
You pulled me in and held me close
Like no one has ever held me before
I enjoyed the embrace, even if it would be the last
Making me forget how to swim
That's a drone in your Waters
The warmth of the embrace
The cold that starts to set in
I feel like I'm drowning
All the air has left my lungs
What am I to do
I can't fight it
I'm too far from the surface
The only one at around
the one who sunk me down
Do I deserve it
Is this my fault
Questions you ask yourself
in the final moment
Was anything truly worth it
Does a thick woman ever feel her patience wearing thin, while
her man wears a beard, ready to take her every mood by the chin?
He’s dating a girl named Erin, who hates it when he cuts his hair,
and runs errands. She made him ink a tattoo on his neck, declaring,
“property of Erin’s,” then she decided to shave her head, but she's
now wearing a wig— a real bold choice. While her man is plagued
by countless voices, but he himself, doesn’t have much of a voice.

She swiftly cleans up her act for the public eye – she's a minute maid,
with a juicy figure that could turn any man to pulp; and she’s also
self-made. And he’s like an empire of ants, bearing more than his
own weight. But he’s not much of a saint, his mischief thrives when
she’s far away, and it can never wait. He keeps a side piece as a
thought to chew on, always clearing off his plate.

They picture a relationship, but lack the means to truly relate –
just a ship; claiming they’re on the same boat; being each other’s
bait.
“Plenty of fish in the sea,” but they leave hooks in one another,
after they hook up. Never pausing to Google for their worth; it’s right
there, just look up– to the writing on the wall. "We’re all crumbling
on each other"; if these walls could speak. As countless feet trample
on each other’s toes, in these crowded streets of Love, we seek.

Paved in toxicity – a toxic city, where toxic lovers inhale toxic fumes.
Easily fuming when being called out; the headlines of these daily
romances, all spell bad news.
Damocles Apr 12
When the rain falls,
Washing away the caked-on dirt from your face,
The thick of your web fails as the silk drops from the weight,
And I can breathe again.

Free from the venomous barbs and guilt-ridden limbs
That poke holes in my skin,
Free from my vital force being drained,
No longer a mere husk or cask
For you to tap and drain the crimson liquid,
I am no longer a dinner tray for your demonic maw.

I won’t be suffocated by your vice-like grip darkness,
I can’t be held down by the dimly lit specters,
I won’t save you from yourself,
Since you only wished to drown me further.

I am free of it,
Falling onto verdant paradise,
As the sun ignites my soul ablaze,
I can live again!
Another journal entry turned into a poem. Man I was an angsty teen lol
Damocles Apr 7
While thoughts escape
Like water evaporates
There is enough moisture
For my massaging palms,
To grip the pink putty,
And shape your perception.

If there is art in sculpting
The very nature you see statues
Staring back in awe of your philosophic tangents
Wrapped upon the senses, as you can taste words
And hear flavors, while seeing sound
As I play maestro.

Does the soothing touch
Pinching and pulling clay
Release enough dopamine
To unfurl those brows
And turn a frown into a grin?

Can you feel the synapses fire like pistons
Grafting new sensation
Causing involuntary motion to feel like an ordinary choice?
Does the gift I’ve given in the foresight of what was
Now seems so prolific as I change it,
Sculpting you, molding every secret
From you, like god, malleable mud
Into a fire kiln vase -
And break you just the same as terra-cotta
BLT's Webster's Word of the Day Challenge.
Webster's Word of the day 4/7/2025: Malleable
Meaning:  Something described as malleable is capable of being stretched or bent into different shapes, or capable of being easily changed or influenced.
Damocles Apr 7
Is it in your chemistry?
I wonder as I’m choking down
Tears scorching my throat like an acid rain
Hoping to bleach your name from my recesses
Built a bridge past the swap of your defenses
Tried to massage your heart without pretenses
But you burn me down.

Do you feel anything when you immolate
Everything sets you off like a hair trigger,
Bear trap my mind and clamp down while you drill deeper
Pour in your toxicity like a waste dump
And set it all on fire.
I’ll be the embers to dance at your command.
Ashes drifting like autumn leaves
Snow down in a distance like a winter dream.

Is it in our chemistry?
Do I excite you to ignition
Gods envy the way our bodies friction
But you believe the fiction,
So I’ll weep for an ending,
Burning my nerves as the acid’s etching.
Retching flames like an allergic fire eater
Your conflagration rings around me.

Are you the pallid horseman
Can I be the one to the blow the horn?
I’m weary and ready for an ending
And you burn me like white phosphorus .
Can we mix and tether,
One day coalesce
Solvent in your trepidation
Waters deeper than the ocean.

Is it in your chemistry?
Inspired by playing guitar and reading old journal entries
Damocles Apr 4
Your tongue makes a precise incision,
Words like a scalpel, cutting with precision,
Bypassing my systems like a jewel thief,
Grasping hold of my heart.

Are you a bard or a thief?
It’s hard to tell the difference—
When you play my strings like a guitar,
Out of mind, yet in tune with the violence.
Your eyes direct like storm clouds,
Twisting my image until it suits your need.

Just make a decision—
I’m exhausted with pretense,
Starving for substance,
Why is it that no one replaces what they take?

And if I were a bodega,
I’d stock only the finest farewells,
So you couldn’t buy happiness,
While pawning my world to the highest bidder.
You thought me caramel, but I tasted bitter,
Spoiled long before you spun a web.
I’m not dancing to your tune; the music is dead.
been looking through old journals and trying to create pieces from the entries, these are up for critique and discussion :)
Dom Mar 26
Like a cancerous tumor,
I can excise you from life.
I can take the remnants of the pustule tumor
And throw it under the microscope
So I can examine the very molecular structure of your brokenness.

I could study every atomic particle,
What your traumas informed you
Into formulating this visage you created,
How the vile black sludge of your soul -
Is nothing more than gangrene gone spoiled.

Your ineptitude of self-reflection
Blocked by the cataracts of your vision
As you placate to your strengths that play out like a weakness,
No, you were born this way, malignant and malformed
A malcontent of circumstance of poor decision making,
Raised in ways that raze the page of parenthood,
Always a burden, never a gift.

See it's in the nucleus of the cells
That deforms cognition in your riddled mind
As the wine collects and clots like blood vessels
Creating a perpetual loop of your self-destructive patterns
You are auto-immune, eating yourself alive
And yet growing in your toxicity, even now
Cut and dissected, your roots reach out like needy hands.

But I am rid of you, and we are free
No matter the pageantry, or remerging bumps -
I am cured of you, forever rid of the stench
As you flail upon the slide, hoping a humble host will accept,
But like all things discarded, you will find the landfill to be a home.
Selma Mar 12
Harsh stabs in my throat.
I let them slice through.
Your words cut me sometimes,
But I let them go for you.

I wonder why I always tiptoe,
Why I swallow my tongue,
Like I swallow food.
Why I abandon myself,
To enjoy the pleasures of you.
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