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Literature Text
A wintry bloom
The black rose's embrace
Tragedy taints the air
Crimson stains the grey
Fangs sink into supple flesh
With poison so very sweet
The world shatters like glass
Before eyes blackened by deceit
A bitter caress
Ripping, amorous claws
Sensuality fails
The soul's too frigid and raw
Rime-glazed eyes
Total oblivion
The dream unraveled
Threads of corruption
Within the mirror
Choked by mist
Becoming clearer
An ever-growing cyst
The black rose's embrace
Tragedy taints the air
Crimson stains the grey
Fangs sink into supple flesh
With poison so very sweet
The world shatters like glass
Before eyes blackened by deceit
A bitter caress
Ripping, amorous claws
Sensuality fails
The soul's too frigid and raw
Rime-glazed eyes
Total oblivion
The dream unraveled
Threads of corruption
Within the mirror
Choked by mist
Becoming clearer
An ever-growing cyst
Literature
Rejection
Neuropathy nudges
Crisply across fingertips;
Flaming pen drips as
Mental strength dissipates
Into malleable mirage.
Literature
Skin
We crawl out of our skin
just to get under
each other’s,
and once we’re
deep beneath one
another’s epidermis
we just lash at
the windows,
throw ourselves against
the walls,
we beat at the doors.
We rip each other
apart from the
inside out.
I think you know
that I’ve always
worn your skin,
always had your face
laid perfectly on top
of mine.
Good thing I’ve always
had your bones, too,
always felt your aches
and pains.
I own so much of you,
no wonder I’m always
trying to change.
I wonder what
you have left
of yourself?
A handful of
fingernails,
some locks of hair,
your attitude.
In my mind’s eye
Literature
for Mids
your photos told stories
of the adventures you've
had - oh the places you
went!
your poems, more like
rants, had your voice
boom inside my mind,
echoing.
soon after you deleted your account,
I swore I would write to you...
but I never did, not as often as
I would have liked to, anyway.
next time I go out,
I'll take pictures
of flowers and 'scapes,
just for you, my friend.
next time I write a
poem, I will remember
how your words always
were full of volume.
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Comments8
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Schizophilia is very well handled.
I like the way you've kept your idea flowing and, alongside it, slowly built your rhythm. Even though I feel that its short in the end, but I like it - its very gruelling, its consuming, its a short piece that defines what a disease this is.
And a haunting disease as well - I found myself with vivid imagery that was very stark and bleak. It lives up to its name - and by-the-by, does a lot more in the process.
It leaves the reader wondering how one can survive with this disease. Well done, keep writing.