Where the autistic get artistic.
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1213 No. 1213 [Edit]
crush me
you fucking black trench whore
razor lips spit black trench gore
stay away from me
i wrote this out in pain
sick of sickening darkness
stay away from me
inside and out im a fucking joke
youre a fucking joke and so am i
so kill your hopes
lets go die
waste of blood in worthless veins
and my jaws are scissors
shredding words and hearts to pulp
grinding dead skin pale and dry
jaws are scissors
jaws are scissors
shred your heart
fuck your words
jaws are scissors
jaws are scissors
sick of your darkening dread
pouring cold lies in my head
stay away from me
im a pile of flesh youve strewn about
your red tinted house down murder avenue
boards and nails line your walls with skulls
you fucking black death whore
you waste of blood in my worthless veins
desperate lies and aches and pains
just go die
not a corpse can fucking trust me
and still you fucking disgust me
crush me

dead evening again
blank again
dead morning lingers
mourning the night
the ugliness bears down
gusts of disgust rising up
thick bile in your throat
consumed in yourself
carrion consumer
consuming wealth
beginning and ending
lights flashing
dead evening dead morning
fuck dreams and fuck sleeping
we have something in common
i hate myself
i hate you
we have nothing in common
a window shatters in the distance
sunlight catches the shards
sharp and shining
and i think of you
you're a a broken window
an open hole in my room
an open wound ugly as death
blank again
>> No. 1241 [Edit]
Someone, please explain
why the fallofcivilization
feels so comforting.

Self sufficient
Freedom
in isolation. Escape
the human waste--
The Human Race.

my apologies.
My tongue's humanist leash slips my hand
when I recall

we all are vile.
>> No. 1243 [Edit]
tonight
sleepy people
go out
living people living lives

I
no
i
am not able to survive
what is this feeling
is this

no
i've got to strive to thrive
revive
stay alive
happy times will arrive

night
oh dear night
you that saw my fright
lend me your might

i live where no one would die
>> No. 1244 [Edit]
yes please add away, i was just lost in depression that night so i had to write something or do anything to stop thinking.
>> No. 1245 [Edit]
It was 12AM. I stayed back to help a friend complete his thermodynamics assignment and the faggot was so stupid I gave up. That is the last time I do work with bloody Tolstoy Chen!

I was stuck on the campus with no transport because it was so late, but I got lucky, and managed to get on the nightbus which was heading to Central. I was used to seeing Central crowded, so seeing it completely abandoned and empty felt eerie. It was cold. A dew drop quivered from the tip of my nose and I was reminded of those pansy schoolboys I saw at the private all boy’s school.

On the walkup to the stairs, I saw The Curry Alien. He had a head shaped like a bulb with a :3 face, except some vicious teeth protruded from his disfigured mouth. He couldn’t have been taller than me knees. He followed me around and kept saying ‘Udon’. After a few or so ‘Udon’s I thought “Now that you mention it, I am pretty hungry”. I guess when I’m working I don’t know my own hunger. But when I got to the fucking Chinese noodles store, it was closed. I felt frustrated and betrayed, so I bought a vegetable pasty from the 7/11 and the man behind the counter was kind enough to give me free sauce.

Curry Alien was visibly pissed at me, he was so pissed I swear he could’ve turned super saiyan. And he did. Curry Alien turned super saiyan right before my very own fucking eyes and threatened to swap my left and right kneecaps me if I didn’t buy udon the next time I was alone and stuck at a train station.

Anyway, to finish off my story of my trip, on the platform while I was waiting for the train there was this tall, big old white man, wearing a suit and tie. He was 45 or so, standing at the edge of the platform.

He was just standing there, furiously doing that ‘roly-poly’ motion with his arms. Just doing the roly-poly, his back arched slightly backwards as if he was locked in an epic and intense life-or-death battle.

The thing was, he just looked so fucking PROUD! His face was absolutely BEAMING as if to say “Hey everyone!! Look at me! Look at how WELL I can do this shit!!”

I laughed, but I also felt a little jealous and sad inside that I’d never experience the same naive, unadulterated happiness as that man.
>> No. 1286 [Edit]
>>1245
I laughed and I don't know why and I haven't laughed in a very long time.
>> No. 1370 [Edit]
Lying in dark dust,
Another day is wasted,
Toungue and muscle rot.
>> No. 1379 [Edit]
so the dreams
the dreams
where are they?
dripping from a rusty pipe
falling into the well
no more being alive
no more thoughts of dying
no more

so the dreams
were they true?
i let them take over me
i let them take over
without ever looking at them

are these memories?
are these mine
underground cities
churches
living alone
with you

are you mine?
i recall you and
your face
the light of a cigarrete
and the night turned to day
that we lived under Christ

did you notice
how i looked at you?
did you notice the dreams?
>> No. 1380 [Edit]
turn away
towards the night
run
anywhere
just to get away

sleep inside the colours
the tents with demons painted
forget the wells
they are tainted
freedom

the witch's rock is no longer
no longer falling
you still live here
hundreds of miles away
i am still there
stuck in the haze
lost
inside the woods
boars and blackberries
and it seems
in our dreams she buries
boars and blackberries.
>> No. 1383 [Edit]
i hate
lame poems
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