loll hella sniping this Log in to see images!

It strikes back to the once warm August

The city. so empty, white painted on white

please listen to my harp, my crush, my music

a genre called life

we try so hard to be, that we get lost in who we are

Tonight I’m the pillow you drip your tears on

the mirror, reminding you of yourself

though mistakes slap us in the face in the form of fate

we shall disable the flaw

for our paintbrushes and pens know us better than ourselves

salt-less tears drained and dry

lets run from ourselves for just one moment

id listen to your every thought even if my ears bled

id feel your every touch even if they were stabs

i’ll be the cloudy day, the star shaped grain of sand

raindrops die when they hit the ground

the lucky ones hit you’re eye

^sighs deeply while rolling his eyes^ I spend a day away from the computer, and this is what I come back to. Honestly, the entire bumembly of you are pathetic. I sincerely doubt any of you could even attempt writing *real* poetry. But, then again, that would make an bumumption about your general intelligence, which I won’t even bother doing. If you think you’re going to discourage me or those like me, you’re sadly mistaken. I won’t be persecuted for my beliefs in the virtual world as well as the real one. Here, *I* have the power and control – If you don’t believe me, simply try crossing That Line. I bumure you, you *will* regret it.

Now, with all the unpleasantness out of the way, I thought I might share my latest creation with you all. I found my previous lover with another man today, and penned this shortly after I arrived home. I wish this forum allowed for colouration formatting, as some of the words were drawn in my own blood, to symbolize their internal pain. But, instead, capital letters will have to suffice. A shame to be so limited by technology.

THIS is how i FEEL around NOT YOU

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

THIS is me

i am not anything but a STAIN

to you now

left behind on the pavement

dropped DOWN against the earth

and STOLEN from form

SUBSTANCE and the SUN

darkening against my moon’s PALE hue

forEVER entwined, the roots sapping LIFE LIE FIRE BREATH

from the dirt below

the concrete buckles and breaks

the tides separate

everything fades and DIES

in due time

in entropy

WHY

you are still there

and now so is he

and your LIPS press tightly

mirroring mine once

reflections of the past

melodies of life

love’s lost refrain

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Such things none of these idiots will ever understand. To bleed for your art, to feel the pain written down not only mentally but physically… at least I have lived. All you will do is die.

Since the thread I started has apparently died, much the way my inner self did long ago. I shall use this thread to repost my ****ty attempt at poetry.

At least this thread is for serious poetry.

Sorry for reposting, but this thread seems more appropriate.

A dream, an eagle glides effortlessly through the sky, in his flight there is magic, in his screams there is laughter.

There is a great beauty inside which he yearns to share, it’s his greatest desire.

But logical giants with arrows of cynicism, shoot the eagle down.

His blood runs red.

Dreams don’t just die, they are murdered.

A dream, a fawn frollocks joyously through a glade, he launches himself to precarious hieghts, only to land again, on sure, nimble feet.

There is a great beauty inside which he yearns to share, it’s his greatest desire.

But sensous wolves, with hypnotic eyes, lure the fawn within reach of their razor fangs.

His blood runs red.

Innocence isn’t just lost, it is torn away.

An old man wanders aimlessly through cold grey streets, his milky eyes, see nothing but ugliness, his soul has been battered into conformity.

He screams, “I had something beautiful to share, DAMN YOU ALL!” and falls, lifeless, to the ground.

His blood, running red, is lapped up by soulless zombies, as teardrops fill their haunted eyes.