Without You

The rain

Is too much to bear

With my shoulders

Carried down

My face awash with tears


The forest of death

Shadowed by building

And monsters in the place of men

The city is



A single thought

Spoken out

That killed a love

And a man


A single stone 

Always there

Above him

The messenger

Of fate

For all of us


I cry without strength

Iv'e fallen down

I don't wish to rise

My knees are home

I can't pray to the lie

Or the sky

Or a man


Death has taken him

And soon comes for me

Was it my fault

The wind reminds

Of all the words

Like knives

The knives he painted

A terrible beauty

His last work

Hiding his last


A paper on the floor

Covered in pencil


And regret


I couldn't have saved you

You said

I don't believe


No matter what you say

There is always 

A second road


A field

The one you loved

Where i loved you


A hill

No shade

Only sun




Only today

It's grey


Is rain

Loss and grief


Taken by men

By me



This day

Is death

I consider your path

At least then

I'd be sure

To see you again

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Tired Eyes


So tired of fighting

Don’t feel like writing

Here in the cold of the night

As I sit here and sit

With my head full of shit

That comes pouring straight out of my life

Like a weight full off lead

Would be better of dead

Cuz the cycle would finally end

No more picking up pieces

Blown up by releases

And things that I cannot defend


And I’m tired

Oh I’m tired

Of the way that I’m wired

And the sad state of what I’ve become

That I hide behind smiles

Hand crafted denials

Built to cover the things that I’ve done

But with every day comes

A more vast growing sum

That fills every night full of dread

So I sit here and sit

With my head full of shit

Here at the side of my bed


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Auto Phobia (Hatred of oneself)


It is not an object that ought to be joked or ridiculed at sight.

It will destroy you during the day; it will destroy you at night.

It will destroy you every waking second of each day.

It will destroy your affiliations and make others turn the opposite way

It will extinguish your triumphs and make them appear petty.

It will provide you the urge to pick up that like a machete.

It is not just something you can get rid of at whatever time you choose.

It passes around an addiction to afflict your own bruise.

It will capture your body and leave you with no control.

It is like life in prison with no chance at parole.

It is a murderer. It is an evil. It is a disease.

It will have you just constantly weeping on your knees.

No individual can help for they do not understand,

They look past the scars that are at the point proximal to your hand.

-Jasmine Skye


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