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The Great War

The great war begins and for those unaware of what’s really going on, it’s not more than confusing chaos and unexplained horrors left and right.

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Black leafless trees as far as the eye can see. Like a forest fire ravaged existence itself. Red skies plague a dark aura over all that is left. Dark daylight is as bright as a moment gets. The dirt beneath my boots crumbles like glass crackling under my weight. The great war merely strolled through here. In less than a week the entire state fell. The bunker managed to keep us safe in the meantime. There’s nothing but the aching screams echoing through the air left lingering. Entire buildings up and vanished into the chaos.

My grandmother always said the rapture would arrive without warning. It would just be here one day. And it seems that’s what took place.

One moment I’m at my first day at the office unpacking my things and getting settled in to the desk of a tragedy passed. The next moment my window view witnesses what I can only described as giant winged people attacking a tiny record store across the street. Within seconds their numbers are in the hundreds, then thousands. They’re popping…

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Shadows Answer Stalled

Confusion. Solitude.
Maddening, The Hall further taunts the lost soul.

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For years I’ve walked this narrow hall alone.
Haven’t seen a copy in ages.
Haven’t seen one alive. Ever.
Stranger that I miss them.
I’ve never stopped walking, though. And now there’s a steel rectangular indent on the wall. Seven by three vertical feet. No handle. Thus I beg the question, can doors exist in this place?
It might have been months or weeks, but I haven’t moved from before this indent. It means something.
It has something.
The wall goes on from where I came and it goes on to where I’m headed. But I’ve never seen an indent. I’ve never seen anything on the wall but the wall.
And copies stacked against it.
Nothing ever happens with the indent no matter how long I…

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Symbolic Sentience

The thought of the Letters.

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Symbols, but mere ideas
Random configurations up to interpretation
Not real. Rather, projections in the mind of the reader dissecting it
Loose strings more or less connecting at intersecting points
Where we join we seem to behave in patters visible to human brain
Until they realize and think that its all in their heads
An illusion they choose to embed

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It Was Said With Love

Let loose, be unfiltered and uncensored. Play with your craft and stop being scared of what others might think.


Jack writes a twisted poem playing with random thoughts in his head.

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Miserable, missable, invisible
Dis the bull get the horns
Get recorded watching porn
Sell the tape in black market
To the underwear gnomes
I know the underworld’s flows
Hang with zombies roasting brain wondering about peculiar things
Wrapped around my hot dog
That hot broad’s buns come hot off the stove
This Hot Rod runs with nowhere to go
Interconnected, my thoughts sense it
Write like I forgot to have breakfast
My behavior all reckless
By the water cooler angry calling…

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In Your Head

A short dark and twisted rap about head.

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I’m a madman
Hanging out with Batman’s villains
Quite a bad man
Chillen with the sandman
Feelin’ kinda of goofy
When I’m feelin’ on the ladies that I’ve roofied
Breakfast in bed be the truth, G
Vitamin D for the bitches
I’m a brute, see
Her head be tripping
Stumble
My knees weak
I’m humbled when my dick she grippin’
Sippin’ that red wine
She’s takin’ her damn time
She wants to go home
But the glock to her head says it ain’t time
She don’t want to no more
I don’t want to joke her
But if she stops too soon I might…

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The Circle

...but he tries to relax. He can’t seem to stop kicking and flailing wildly.

As James struggles to hold himself up the rope swings left and right. Bounces up and down. Tightens as it twists and turns making it increasingly difficult to grip.

“How do I get out of this?” James tries to focus, “How do I pull myself up and over?” but he can barely keep it together. Images of family members and his children keep getting in the way. His mind wanders against his will. He rather keep it on solutions. Active and capable. But his rational mind believes it’s too late.

Struggling with which...

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