Poetry & Art

For your poems.


Crimson Justice (And The Razorblade Requiem)

December 22nd, 2010by BrokenDevil

Fractured memories of all these war-torn years,
stab into my soul, giving strength to wasted tears.
Trust, a luxury I cannot afford.
Condemned by my own accord.
Heated arguements have lead to silence.
Now I’m locked away, suffering quiet violence.
The need to loose control is just so tempting.
The mirror I look into is now empty.
Once I was promised your salvation.
But your hatred lies on me as abomination.
(slice, slice.)
No one to run to, nowhere to go
this loathing breeds in me, I know.
I hate this horror, need to hide
from the disappointment I have inside.
I’ve murdured everyone who’s cared
out of self defense, because I’m scared.
That the beast inside has become me
and I need

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Short Story of my Tragic Flaw

December 22nd, 2010by RedTears

The space of this room is cold and hollow now; devoid of all sound, everything is filled with nothing. A light-skinned teenage boy with dark brown short hair and dark green eyes, wearing a pair of gunmetal-black glasses, blue jeans, and a gray zip-up hoodie, stands firmly in the center of his bedroom looking down at his teal carpet. He marvels a black ant, positioned still under the mass of his slender body. He kneels down to the ant and says in a low voice similar to a whisper, “Have you lost your way? You seem like you don’t fit here… like you have no …

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catatonic state

December 18th, 2010by marlajade

NORTH. [god is a corpse you can talk to with roses]. I hate it [youre there arent you]. I wake up each day in tears[sometimes bleeding]. I always have. Instead of eating i cut. I am the poster girl for cocaine abuse. Maybe Im already dead. I feel like it. I cant honestly be here. Can i. It hurts so much. dont believe in depression[or a god or deity]. dont want to. didnt feel like it so I never [fucking] tried. [girl] didnt eat cause girl was afraid. Never liked music cause music is false. wanted to die since thirteen. didnt throw up Im always …

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Of dilated pupils.

December 18th, 2010by marlajade

the punch is shit. I dont wanna be at this party any more. I want my old friends [these boys and girls are slaves][ifeel like throwing up]. I want to collapse and wake up in hospital. At least one of these people will drive me there, right. If i die in public, its murder. The police will say it was drug related, and place blame. That I was a normal happy party girl, sucking cock on MDMA. [which was my fairly broken way of showing affection]. I like it when my pupils dilate. at four in the morning . The nurse shines a light in …

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i am black silk sticky taste

December 17th, 2010by marlajade

Yeh pretty much the whole world has fucked up since you left.

My own mother hates me[find me].

I am black silk cigarette smoke. tarnished sticky suicide addict. I refuse to move. I cant breath. I cant understand these people. and lets face it why would I. I havent washed in ten days. My hair is greasy. I’m unemployed. I cut it off some weeks ago, so its not like, getting in my tired face or anything. I sleep all day.  [pretend to be dead girl cause the woman inside is dying to leave]. In New York the temperature is three degrees below zero. Maybe i tried …

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December 17th, 2010by zdeathchanz

reliving the nightmare. a poem by mwah.

he sits there patiently
as i scream
he smiles
as i yell
he grins
when i struggle

I gave in.
I gave in.

he forces me down
when i start to cry
he tells me:
shut up someone might hear.
i push and yell
he punches me

I give in.
I give in.

he pulls out
i scamper and cry
if you tell anyone you’ll die
so i shall slice my wrist
let the blood flow
he promised this
he keeps his promises.

AN: yeah my nightmare i normally have. why else would i not want to sleep? yeah he does keep his promise pretty well… hence why i told you this.

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The Sea of my Abyss

December 15th, 2010by zdeathchanz

Eyes like glass
Thoughts lost in the sea
The sea of the Abyss
She can’t wish
She can’t wish for this
The ship lurches and falls
Along the rocky waves
The waves of the waves push her on
She wants to drown.
But Hell won’t let her.

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December 14th, 2010by neverthesame

I dream to have a perfect smile
I dream to wear all the latest styles
I dream that I would have an endless money tree
I dream not to be the ugly me.

My friends tend get all the good guys
they tell me I’m just as pretty, but I know thats all lies.
If I was pretty, why does the world tell me I’m not?
why do all the other guys not say I’m hot?

I’m surrounded by beautiful girls, I just feel like the odd one out.
I’m the ugly girl in the group, without a doubt.
My whole childhood, I was called terrible names
But if you saw my face? who are they …

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December 13th, 2010by satans_princess

On here we all talk about how this place has helped us so much and how these people uderstand us. we should start an organization. With all these people on here it could spread so FAST! help people see tha light come out of he dark and make bliss seem more reachable.

ifyou think it’s a good idea and would like to help me ge this going email me at:


the more the better!

lets make a diffrence!

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the darkness inside me.

December 12th, 2010by zdeathchanz

dark man.
sitting in my chair
sitting in my mind
wrap his hands round my neck
i cant breathe
i cant see

dark man.

dark man.
wait for night
to strike
to watch life
drain from my eyes
the spirit’s gone, so its no fun.
just mercy, you say.
a mercy killing you say.


my heart pounds as yours does not.
what a pathetic shit, you think.
what a life and not gonna use it.
he will take it for the night.
does everything i cannot
and in the end


the dark man’s gonna kill me, ma.
mama, he’s gonna kill me.

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The Dream Of A Curious Man#Poem

December 11th, 2010by Bodhisattva

Do you know as I do, delectable suffering?
And do you have them say of you: “O! the strange man!”
— I was going to die. In my soul, full of love,
A peculiar illness; desire mixed with horror,

Anguish and bright hopes; without internal strife.
The more the fatal hour-glass continued to flow,
The fiercer and more delightful grew my torture;
My heart was being torn from this familiar world.

I was like a child eager for the play,
Hating the curtain as one hates an obstacle…
Finally the cold truth revealed itself:

I had died

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Battling Before Redemption

December 6th, 2010by TiredMesh

Crippling in the cavity of the former self.
Humane emotions put the blue blood into distress.
In distance of the tranquility that’s out of reach.
A chronic disapproval of the one who trys to please,
a failure to communicate inbetween.
The diabolical soul is in its routine to self deploy,
to flee from the world that seems too real
and to destroy the rightious self,
but before the lingering of the storm,
it would like to find peace of mind.
Being either that of love, or death.
It will find rest.

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got the plan got the means know the time… But should I?

December 4th, 2010by satans_princess

I have a pill bottle filled with pills and a knife both hidden in my room. I could die anytime i wanted to. I’ve called a friend before well it was five diffrent friends on six diffrent times. Only once have i came close enough to be called a suicide attempt and almost as of last tuesday 7 other times. I’m a pathetic fat whore even though my friends say I’m not I am. I’m a fat midget. I’m like 5’3″ and 105 pounds. I’m ugly as hell and I’m severely BiPolar. I have hilucinations and hear voice’s a lot. Calling me Satan’s princess and shit …

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December 3rd, 2010by neverthesame

She smiles and pretends that the world is okay.
But every time she comes home she thinks, is today the day?
The day when I’ll finally cry my last cry?
Is today the day when I’ll finally die?

Or maybe I should wait, a day or two to see how I feel.
To see if it’s just the blues, or if this is for real.
But it’s been five years, so it’s not just the blues.
I guess I’m just to scared to do what I have to do.

Or do I really want to die, I usually think so.
Or do I just want to run away from life, just run and go?
I …

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~ The Blind ~

December 2nd, 2010by Bodhisattva

Behold them, my soul: they are truly frightful! like mannequins, vaguely ridiculous, terrible, singular as sleepwalkers, aiming their darkened orbs who knows where.

Their eyes, devine spark gone, as if gazing into  the distance, re-main lifted skyward; you never see them let their heavy heads sink dreaming toward the pavement.

so they traverse the illimitable dark, brother of eternal silence,

O city! while all around us you sing, you laugh, you bawl, smitten with pleasure to the point of atrocity, look! i drag my self along also! but, more bewildered than they,

I ask, All these blind people, what are they looking for in the sky…

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i saw this and had to post it on here cuz it feels kinda perfect now…

November 28th, 2010by oktobresnoe

So I just want to say that this poem is written by Hayley Williams, the lead singer of my favorite band, Paramore. She wrote it on my birthday (June 18) in 2005. I DO NOT OWN THIS AND ALL CREDIT GOES TO HAYLEY.

insomniac theatre: a waste of sleepless nights

have i lost you?

surely that wasn’t the last night i’ll fall asleep with you on the phone.

you know i look forward to that, right?

allllll day just waiting to go to sleep with you whispering in my ear.

i know you love me but are we okay?

is there something i did wrong?

i want you to be fine with me

and …

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so heres my poem. its called Red Berries.

November 28th, 2010by oktobresnoe

Red Berries


The red juice runs down

her face

her arms

her legs

and her facearmslegs are stained


from the poisonous

berry juice

the berries no one can


no one besides





red berries.

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November 26th, 2010by oktobresnoe

little depends on the girl

in a tattered

white dress

standing at the edge

of the shadows


she cries


tears as she waits

in the darkness,

the whisper whisper whisper of trees

and the buzz buzz of voices

around her


she screams


but the voices keep




they never


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If you want to talk, I’m here.

November 20th, 2010by avriel

am here to talk

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It’s Not a Plea, it’s a Legacy.

November 17th, 2010by marine105

It’s time.
I ran my fingertips over the grooves of the gun, letting them fall past the slide and wooden grip before they reached the hollow magazine slot. Tracing my fingers around the hollow space, I stare at the weak sheen gracefully arcing its way across the metal, reflected by a single lit bulb hanging from the ceiling of the basement. I set the gun on the floor with a dull hollow thud as it contacted the hard wood floor. I reached forward and picked up a single 9mm bullet, feeding it into the top of the magazine with a satisfying ‘click.’
I think of …

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