The Pressure

I feel their many hands
Clamouring onto my feet
Hear the gnashing of their teeth
And in my mind the anxieties of their souls they do speak

Air thick with the hunger for freedom
Begging me for salvation
The lamentations of the ones who cannot speak
Seek me like pilgrims seek enlightenment

But why do these dark souls clamouring at my feet, now hanging onto my legs
Ask for spilt blood as their release fee?

My legs are getting tired now.
My soul would like to just be.

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Alchemy

As she looks to her past
All lined up like a circle of Mayan dominoes behind her
Each domino their own story
Their own theory on her life
A piece of her in all the worst ways
The music plays
And she sets fire to this domino maze

Dancing to a rhythm that reminds her she is not set in her ways
That her life can truly change

And as the fire circles her, it begins to fear her own flames of desire

For there is nothing more powerful than a woman free from her chains

She has seemingly reclaimed back her power.

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Minimalistic Pain

A steel box
Stainless for that minimalist touch

In case my blood drops
It’ll be real easy to clean up

A tornado of pretentious words and platitudes
A storm of unspoken emotions and digested traumas

Keep me shackled in this box that has no opening

Inherently luminant
Reflecting off itself

A straight jacket so fashionable
What is a trend but a system of control?

Freedom only in my self-infliction

But you would have to get close to see my pain
Close enough to see these chains

To understand how we are the same

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Epidemic

It starts off small
Just a patch on my chest

Then it slowly grows over my arms
and up to my neck

I cover it up
Nothing to see here
There is nothing anyone can do about it
There is nothing there

As it spreads over my back
I laugh louder

Then it takes over my legs
I start to feel it

My hands are beginning to show it
So my face grows more vacant

As I sleep, I toss and turn
Only to wake up and to truly see it

It has swallowed my body whole
Completely engulfed it

How shall I find a way
to keep this secret
When even I cannot ignore it?

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The Light I’d Rather Hide

As you stroke the skin of my back

My body shivers

Soul quivering at the impending task ahead

My inner most part thighs tingling painfully

A warmth in my belly travelling downwards freely

The pulse on my neck quickening

My parted lips drawing breaths even more shallowly

Feet pointing

Throat purring

The light of the full moon exposing my naked body

 

Would I end this addictive intrusion to be lonely?

Safe and covered.

With the light of the moon being insignificant to me?

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My Scorpio Was Lucifer

You remind me of all the tragedy and trauma I try so hard to romanticise
Of all the pain I hid behind a smile
Of all the weight I lost trying to fit in with the style

You remind me of hell and mental asylums

Of the snake that told Eve to give the apple to Adam – they were both parts of me
You tried to annihilate them

A realisation based on the sands of time
On the realisation that your heart never was mine, only the curses and the demons from time to time

You remind me of sin and gin
Combined with anger and the demons of hell singing

Of ravenous corpses rising

Of a plague only the mind knows but the body shows

Of ravenous corpses climbing
Of a plague only the mind knows but the body shows

Yet I see Saint Lucy beckoning

With light like a stream

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3 Retrogrades & A Sleeping Venus

Floating

We hold hands as we look down at the lights

Our laughter fills the air

We thought we could roam forever

But soon our laughter stopped

and the breeze grew too strong

We lost our bearings, and all that was familiar to us became distant to us.

Our hands became clammy

Now, unattached, we float through life as though lost in a black-hole

The smell of burning trees leading me to you whimsically

 

A presence I cannot see or (that I) hide if need be

you became an inconvenience

An unwelcome being.

 

As I touch base, I look up and see you perched on top of a mountain

I call out

send directions

Yet you refuse to accept the end of our floating dispositions

 

Even though we no more hold hands, we still hold the strings to each other’s heart

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Family Sacrifice

The blood of my clan drips from the knife

The initiation done

A rite with no moral compass

A freedom built upon the art of social persuasion and inclusion

 

A tear forms on my cheek

In one tear drop, my hope can be seen, my fantasies and dreams.

My future lovers and lies. My sins and my victories, my individuality. My face. My life.

 

The blood on the knife replaced the contents of that tear that fell from my eye

 

A great sacrifice.

A fool’s mistake, for they decide.

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Dream Error 404

It’s pitch white

Too bright to see a thing

And their laughter surrounds me

Weakening me at the knees

I can barely breathe

 

Every laugh they make

Is a step my feet falter to make

All that is before me disappears

My dreams, nothing but fantasies I can’t recreate

So the whispers grow stronger, as my mind regurgitates all that is before it

 

No soul. No hate.

 

And yet I force myself to move, before I am late

Family values and niceties await me

I’ll come back to face my fears later

But first, let me dress right.

 

I’d rather evoke envy than become prey.

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Freedom in Chains

The movement of her waist

Swaying of her hips

Is not for your consumption

But for her own personal pleasure

Her own celebration.

 

Which will lead to her destruction

As the mentality of the mob

vies for a blood jurisdiction

 

A whore, a philanderer, a Jezebel of the highest degree

A conjurer of base lusts and desires

Causing others to realise what they’d rather hide

 

A social reject and open spectacle

She will soon be weary of those stone throws

She will soon be weary of the laughter and blurred energy

That surrounds her.

 

No home. No food. No growth.

Just opiates and products of inebriation

A source of freedom, of comfort, of safety

In a world that celebrates your rejection

 

In drunkenness she wanders tot he brothels for safety.

Mirages.

Shaped like a relative, a lover, a government social scheme

 

Her body no longer her own

A focal menagerie.

 

Alternative Facts.