. . . ___-the angstiest poem in the world-___ . . .
i look at the rat as it scuttles across the floor
i am like that rat
but i see myself in its eyes
and i see that unlike me,
the rat has a soul...
my reflection comes, bent and estranged
like my life
a life less ordinary...yet strange
a soul tainted but still a soul
depraved and perverted the way they like it
_this_ is acceptable, they tell me.
the only tears and rips we will allow are ones unseen,
in your mind
in your heart
in the blackest residues slumbering in your deepest essence....
they talk to me about power
I know what power is.
I have seen them broken down, all broken down.
they have no dreams
they have no hopes
I have no dreams.
I look at the pieces of the mirror on the floor...
My dreams were shattered when I met you
i should feel sympathy, but I don't.
I had hopes
I look back.
I had dreams
a thousand times, I look back, and wonder.
My fantasies perverted by your hand
the only things you knew were what was wrong
the only things I DO are what is wrong
and I do it because I love you...
more than you will ever know
because even though my heart is blackened...and mummified
you have never known what it is like to have one.
You dont know
Love to you is heated bodies piled up under sheets of satin and silk...
Summer passions flared by the heat of the moment
but it ends up as hated bodies...piled beneath mounds of leaves and soil
You have never loved...you never will
Yet I give you mine
entropic passions with flies' eggs as a catalyst
Let me be the maggot of your eye
a parasite sitting in your chest
thriving on the thing that makes you dead
but you do not know death
not like the mouse in the corner of my room
I left it there for three weeks
just because the smell reminded me of you
the mouse who scurried to get to the sublime
the mouse that u broke his spine
in the trap u cleverly set
I serious doubt the mouse will forget...
it bears the marks to remember through time
like the thorns of a rose
but has no mind remaining to mark the passing.
I have a mind
and soon, I will have the markings.
I have lost my soul
Under a rock,...decaying and forgotten
like a slug
or some other such agent of decay
i am an agent of death
they laugh at my black clothes, but it is a uniform.
it is a badge of honour.
They fear it
because it consumes them
they fear me more than anything they have feared before
it draws them...in to my emptiness
if this is to be the end, then it is the only end which can be had
and I embrace it
with my chitinous lips
bony fingers clutching a dead rose to my gaunt chest
and a grin on my death's head.
- Improvised by Draco, Cthulu, Moonight, LIFE-, Dyer and the other inhabitants of #poetry who contributed their angstiest lines in realtime!