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    dots Submission Name: Bleach & Lye ( Reworked )dots

    Author: HisNameIsNoMore
    ASL Info:    28 - Male - Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    2.95 - 75/194/254
    Words: 517
    Class/Type: Poetry/Dark
    Total Views: 1226
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 3652

       A series of old poems I had done on the psychological aspect of a murderer. Trying to place myself behind the mind of the killer, it spanned a total of five pieces, I have edited and reworked it all into one solid and what I believe to be a dark and hypnotizing piece. I hope it exposes the monster inside of us all.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsBleach & Lye ( Reworked )dots

    Smacked out- One last hit of the night.
    A cold and ruthless chemical buzz.
    My skin's alive- Hands stained from their cries.

    The dead once again become wise as I wash 'em in lye.

    Slipping through the cracks and shadows-
    The absence, I grow hollow.
    The lies, I calm hysteria.
    Collect the eyes; bleach the features.

    No more reasons.
    Not now- Not forever-
    Deep inside, a demon in the mirror.

    Bleach and lye burn and blister.
    Tossing nightmares- Clawing beneath.
    Paranoia, it'll beat you.

    Twisting rhetoric to justify my crime.
    I breathe deep.

    Lesions rise.
    Burning... Burning...
    The flesh always falls white.

    A story, perhaps a happy ending?
    Table set for two; yet no one will find...

    Ulterior motives lie-
    Tossing nightmares, bleach and lye.

    I scream- Screaming into the white of the eye.
    Fluttering like a dream, turning away quietly.

    Such revolting eyes- Such disgusting eyes.
    We've become desensitized to the truth-
    Laid out on a cold slab.
    Declare the victim; play the victim.
    Coy to everything, yes even you- Truth-

    Laughs and lies.
    I promised life.
    A stroke of your pale face; a kiss goodbye.

    Forget the meaning of empathy.
    These aberrant voices still exist in haunting screams.

    Hollow whispers.
    The muse could never tell.
    Sew the lips of God-
    We'll rot in Hell.

    Calculated, yet they call it disease.
    A sickness fueled by meaningless dreams.

    Such putrid eyes-
    Such disgusting lies-

    See no evil-
    Folded hands never point to the crime.
    The soft sounds that tear us down.
    Eating away inside.
    Pues seating pain caress truthful rantings.

    There I was, delivering closure; eternal rest.

    Circumincession as thoughts smear.
    Breaking over glass and dull mirrors-
    I am fatalism at work.
    Strung out; wring out every pleasure.

    One at a time-

    Memorize every face-
    Gaping black holes; endless visions addle the mind.
    I am no monster-
    A heart still beats deep inside.
    The beast to burden morality-
    To rise above the dependency of a downfall.

    Looking through the glass-
    I keep looking through the glass, as if I was a child.
    Punishing my madness, I walk deeper into Hell.
    The sickness of the lies-
    The stench; struggle and pain of the bleach.

    Clean and clear the cries.
    Content in watching them die-

    Rack 'em up.
    A saint like pose-
    Starving ribs to be robbed of flesh.
    Screams clear, like dawn is to night.
    Beauty of the eyes staring back from the palm of my hand.

    No trace will be found.
    No hand to point it out-
    No legs to crawl, no way to God.

    The eyes will always remain mine.

    The callous of my hands.
    Cracking- Breaking- Weakened tools of the trade.

    No matter where they go, I will always have their eyes.
    The world they see- This world is mine.

    All roads lead back to here-

    The gesture leads to finality-
    Nothing but lies, lies... lies...

    Plastic wrap,

    Bleach & lye.

    Submitted on 2012-03-30 12:00:53     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      I love the idea you have going on... I have tried to write several stories being the villain in the past and I just never finished, I think it can be complicated sometimes... I personally think you should take your old poems and finish each one individually and separately because you have way too many ideas going on at once here... if you are anything like me, I keep absolutely everything I write and it begins to stack up because I don't want to throw away all my hard work (that is my unfinished poems or songs or poems that I need to tweak) . Usually what I do is as I write new poems I take sentences that I believe would fit in from previous poems I write so that I can satisfy myself lol... or I rewrite the old poems... I am not sure if you combined some of your old poems into one but from the outside that's what it looks like... you could separate your poem into stanzas too.. for instance combine one or two poems and start it With I , the next one II and so on like Edgar Allen Poe did..... I enjoy your poem but there's just too much ideas going on... good luck to you and thank you for sharing....
    | Posted on 2012-03-31 00:00:00 | by dannyshyboy | [ Reply to This ]

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