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The Plot

The Stoner

There be a stoner, a mighty old one, wrinkled skin, twisted toes, frail and fragile, as if a tiny little nudge can dismantle his assembled soul. He’s not a person, not at least now, may be once, but long forgotten. Now he is a shadow of a soul. He is fragmented so is his mind. He would talk you through rubbish and say nothing, but then when you least expect it he says the thing. Spec...

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detectivemurderplotpoetrystorythriller

Grim

The flower grew within, the fumes were fornicated. Bastards grew on paper, spilt ink spread their legs to the core of chaos. Thus the evil brewed bombs. You don’t see a shadow in the dark docile day. Only when it burns you can see your damned skin and the fire. The shadow of a truth turning grey, sat beside by the yellow day!

 

PC: Unknown

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balletdancedepressiongrimpainpoetry

Moist

It's moist, in either of the sides
Some surpass the water and some would happily drown.
as for me, I prefer to drink up.

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drinkdrunkmoistpoetry

The steps of losing your mind

You stare. 
Thinking isn’t your game, anymore.
Wait for the next reflex to barge in.

Stare.

PC: unknown.

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crazydeathdepressionpoetry

Too blue to breathe

Blended is thy blue and sly be the cue
one flew over two,
resting in peace a few,
me and me and me and me and you.

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bluedeathhaikupoetry

Clink

 

Piercing poles of what shattered in abruptness
Has a bit of touch to it.
Strange things with glasses, I tell you.

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depressionemptyglassPoetry

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