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Posts Tagged ‘fucking’

I hear the whispers

Baby I hear them speaking the truth

To fall for you

I’ve heard your words fall from a thousand lips

From faces no longer clear

You can’t have me

Pay no mind to my consent

Pay me no mind

There is nothing good left between

 

Glacier passion devoid

If it makes you less sad

Consider me a broken thing

Beyond emotional recovery

Still fit to ride

Past investment

Holding fast and whittling away

 

When the light falls

And I become a still, solitary shadow

Don’t turn it into something it’s not

You took all I have

Frozen cunt

Disengaged gag reflex

The place where I feel home

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I lost count of the number at that cold, calculating age of eighteen

And some months

As another slightly shrivelled disappointment

Pumped the last of its vigour

Into the empty receptacle at three in the morning

Behind the NCCP car park near that little club with the sofas

Before comfort became a necessity in nightclubs

And excess was a necessary outlet for madness

That beautiful insanity that accompanies the absoluteness of that cold, calculating age of eighteen and some months

The number rose, the incessant pounding wearing the walls smooth

Worn, weary, a thousand years of subtle change, to evolve

Lackluster, listless passion dissipating into resignation

Once I was indignant, with the world at my feet and the bay at my mercy

Until I stopped counting the numbers

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You make me feel, that’s why I am happier without you

I’m always played out on the down days

Watch me leave

Your life goes on

Mine shrivels a little more

Someday, you find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Would it be me you are thinking about

Each time you slide wetly into another her

Who doesn’t quite fuck with such desperation?

Who dances to your beat?

Has a warmer touch, a deserving fuck

Dresses to please you, puts on the whole show

You find the real thing

I find the isolation lying next to you

Waiting for you

Waiting for you to watch me leave

Waiting for you to wait for me to stand still

In the dirt, and call you my own

To be washed away

Inside out I leave, you watch

Someday you find the real thing

I come back for a little more

Your life goes on

A pulse where I belong

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One Casualty

You, I, there is no feelings here

You are built on a construct of lies and invention

I, have no capacity for warmth

Once upon a time I was punished with some extremely bad prose

Rhyming out my failings at great length

I am sure you can improve on this auto-biographic nightmare of confusion

And twisted pride than you are subjecting me to.

After all, I didn’t pluck you out of the crowd for your looks

Or Prize winning personality

It may not have been for your breath-taking intellect

But yet… I hold out hope that you can do more than

Lament and attract flies

Throw and crush and maul

Am I the only place you can relieve your pain

I know your taste, I can’t supply this fix

You can buckle down this cunt and rip and envy

I met you, this mess I bring

You have an impossible dream that I will feel

Your slamming door being the moment of realisation

They leave the same way, unwitting, controlled

Don’t change, I have been here all these years

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Notch in my bedspot

Hush Down

I carry you around tonight

Those things I never told you

No matter the lonely hope

Nobody to remind us of humanity

Starting small

We might kiss

In that way people kiss whilst awaiting

Hush down

I did it again

Fucking hatred from pore to bone

I can erase you with one more fuck

Your face a memory which each thrust

Your voice a small sound hidden behind unguarded utterances

I carry you around tonight

Starting small

We might kiss

You aggressive, unremitting

Me persuasive, passive

Dispassionate, center focused

There is always time to spend destroying you

This shadow of you that remains

Hush down

I carry you around tonight

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Some days I just barely stay in my skin, I want to take this inner dialogue and let it loose to fuck, bite, tear and breathe, this inner dialogue is so tight and raw to the touch, every paper that you read tells you to batten the hatches

 

Keep it all in mind, let it go with a sour stench of whiskey blows to the unexposed areas.

 

That sweat extortion thrown into the path

of believing that oestrogen

is permission

 

When all I really want is an interactive, aggressive, impactful fuck without flowers, to tear out the impotence and take it’s hardened edges to blunt against my madness.

 

The rustling eyebrow gaze of unremitting judgment lose in some primal, moistened moment over and discarded in favour of benign, diminished disdain

 

You are so fucking special, you matter, you’re matter to me, you see through these lies… Right? 

 

 I let you fuck because I cannot fuck you… You see that perfect soul… right?

 

All this talk, talk, talk and all I wish is that you would just drive this losing streak from me as opposed to the singing sweetness and honeysuckle dried out words that are supposed to provoke baseless, blank serenity.

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