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StaticBored and playing with a metallic stringStatic by necropoetus
Lowering the blinds, constantly, repetitively
You bob your head at the sudden decrease in light
The muscles of your neck seem inorganic
Mechanical spring of a toy
And your eyes are empty sockets
Outside, melting skyscrapers of liquid concrete, drip
While my fingers make rapid, rhythmic movements
On the table
Creating shadows on the glistening surface
Like wells of numb darkness
A static noise wraps around my head, it covers
The split tongue of insecurity
I'm eating rusty nails that taste of blood
In this lively necropolis
RedBut we still twirl aroundRed by necropoetus
On a darkened roof
While the sunset
Like a deep, cut
Orange and shades of
Red like my lips
Our hands tight together
In an ominous dance
Of indifference to
The day of tomorrow
As the city will awaken
In snow and traffic
We'll be here
Drinking fresh coffee
Glass ChimneyShe asked if we even had tonight.Glass Chimney by krutch99
I said don't ask if you don't want to know.
She said I was a sinking ship
and then she disappeared beneath the waves.
Man I'm so far overboard
None of those lines are going to be long enough.
She hid the knives because of me,
That's okay, we can cut the ice with our teeth.
We only have tonight
We don't even have tonight
We've only got these razorblades and these clichés
And we're back behind the eightball again.
We don't even have tonight.
Heat the glass until the colors dance,
Until the optical illusion shatters in your hand,
And then lick the pieces clean,
Make them sparkle like the diamonds we could never be.
Hammer the nail into the vein until the spiderweb spreads up your arm,
Church bells ring, it's Sunday morning...
You've never been so beautiful,
You've never been beautiful at all.
Of course we don't have tonight, we never did.
I Just Called To Say I Hate Myselfangel, twist your halo into an anchor,I Just Called To Say I Hate Myself by krutch99
tear your wings out at the roots if you won't fly anymore.
blow out the candle you left burning at the window,
close the door, i'm not coming home tonight.
sing the stars in your silver sky
a melancholy lullaby,
sing them down
the way you used to.
angel, don't look for me tonight,
i'm on the wrong side of a one-way door.
you know i love you, but i'm a whore,
i didn't mean to let this go so far.
wipe the tears from your silver eyes,
i know you are but what am i,
sing the stars in your fading sky
a brokenhearted lullaby,
sing them down
the way you used to.
ReflectionI found a couple of old photo albums in my attic. They were thrown away in some cardboard boxes and forgotten. Somehow I avoided looking through them. Whenever I came up here, it was for the sole purpose of writing without being bothered by anyone.Reflection by necropoetus
But today, the curiosity seemed to be a bomb at the back of my head, waiting to explode.
I sneezed several times as my hands opened, grabbed and took out everything from postcards to books and letters. Even clothes. Hidden away, I found a smaller wooden box. The paint was scratched off and worn out making whatever had been once drawn on it, barely recognizable.
I put it on my writing table and opened the oval window. It was cold outside, but sunny. The stinging kind of cold that hurts your skin, dries it, and makes you feel like you can't breathe. The streets were empty. The lack of sleep made my mind float. Creativity comes easier when I'm in this state. Words tend to flow without effort. I hadn't slept all night.
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