London

As I become the sorrow The funeral of screams Become the soul of winter Murderer of dreams Into her hands she's crying A death inside The the secrets and the shadows we have to hide As the sun rises I fall asleep When the sun goes down Why must we wake up When she looks upon you You'll steal her light And in a dream its raining Into her eyes

Submitted by MetalElf — Apr 24, 2025

Tonight rains for us only For the sick and the lonely For the hollow and broken The firmament tears Tonight rain falls For us only Forgiving Absoluting guilt Proviidng a mask To disguise The depravity we seek When she became all that she became There was nothing left to recognise The emptiness kills So she fucked herself dry And could no longer try To feel anything inside A black and white still Of the actress at night Captured in monochrome For the theatre wall The mirror can not reflect the beauty she expects And there is nothing left To lose Or to gain In the end When she became all that she became There was nothing left to recognise There is no-one left to remember you when I am gone [Narration:] Dead London sighs dense anxiety out of black Westminster lungs full of sickness. A decomposing clamber that infects his every puddle grazed foot foward, while the population dreams safely asleep...

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 24, 2025

All the danger, Lies in you This is not the beginning of the end Confronting, confusing , distorting time confronting, confusing distorting life

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 24, 2025

I'm not myself I am the actor Waiting the cues Unknown direction From unknown directors Actions that haunt The invisible audience See me, In the reflection As I saw you This distance means nothing It has to be nothing Final performance Redefine the actions Come back as a flower Come back as a rose Through the ageless void Through the camera eye We are all the same I know and you know This is rehearsed This is rehearsed [Narration:] He travels by night, journeys without destination in cold buses and cold patrons without features He wonders if indeed they are anything like him without identity or soul, berift of purpose, condemned to exist in the small hours. Not real people at all, rats and maggots incapable of keeping the rhythm of humanity, sent alone to survive outside the hive. Distinct from the dealers, pimps, burglars and filth, at least they posess a crass purpose, fighting for urban surival amongst themselves. Contaminating Lambeth street corners under pestilential night skies they retreat among dawn light bleeds through clouds and the city stirs from zombie.

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 24, 2025

I have no pride, I have no shame Cold and lucid you are my dream And I can not see my mistake. I only see you. fixate on your eye Its you and its always been you you breathe life into my illness I penetrate Like a forgotten ancient god That remains hidden Rotten Diseased at the core Unleashed set free A poet hiding in the shadows Of inspiration (then I remember) Dull footfalls from the halls Step into the cold wet street Megan

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 24, 2025

Now I have seen the inside The ending of my life The waves of a faded trance They come emotionless like dreams Broken dreams Hypnotic her eyes The beauty so defenceless My jealous disgraced Her beauty so negative My jealousy deprived Her jealousy so negative My beauty disgraced Her beauty so negative My jealousy

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 24, 2025

Daring off the road To go where no-one knows Fading She can not speak my name I'm jealous of the rain Falling The blackness of her stare Is poisoning the air which were breathing Behind distorted eyes That which we despise Loving Daring off the road To go where no-one knows Fading She can not speak my name I'm jealous of the rain When I'm falling The blackness of her stare Is poisoning the air Which were breathing Behind distorted eyes That which we despise Loving each other to death Eyes diffused with Mercury veins filled with The impurity of lead [Narration:] In the hospital light intensity of the cafe, he gasps bitter coffee, shifting heavily on rancid furniture Nobody speaks English here and he submerges his identity in the anxious cadence of unsympathetic sounding discourse With time the ego slowly emerges and the desperation urges his rash exposure to the rancid night air, drinking breaths of sewer sod and smoke, scoring liquorice black pollution onto the soul He retches and watches the poison hit the sewer grill, tremulous he glimpses an artist sketching him from the cafe window, charcoal tip capturing his trauma on paper Is this real? Is this happening? What must he look like to the artist, the observer? The reflection in the window surprises him, he scarcely recognises himself Why did they poison him? They left this detail out of the script, the director capturing his real reaction He’s a professional and delivers a professional performance, they can’t catch him out.

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 24, 2025

This is the final Final portrait Of the artist No integrity left Or forgiveness Dependant on the value She bestows on the ego The poison reflects The ultimate narcissist When the taste of wine has gone Narcissist We drink dead waters When there are no more words left to say Only aching terrified sobs Terrified sobs I still taste you On my lips And on my fingers The taste of you inside It was but yesterday we met in dreams

Submitted by Lake of Tears — Apr 24, 2025

Broken hours enter twine Before words that can define The shape of empty space In shadows of nobel grace Alter shape to disguise Human form that we despise Sadness we swallow whole Is grief beyond control We are the sex people Fold your arms around the night Breathe my dear you're slipping Fall into the black of night Tears are falling into the rain LONDON speaks into the night Take my hand and slip away We are the sex people

Submitted by johnmansley — Apr 24, 2025

Enter the house Of dismay Perfect pentagram Painted On the ceiling Light of the candles Holes in the walls Holes of terror Shaping her mind I've come to dominate The house of black light Where visions fade And mirrors gleam With disgust They know my secrets This dead house of despair I've come to dominate

Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 24, 2025

He collects his thoughts on paper for the last time. He pauses and slowly resigns himself to the perfection of silence. He longs to reject the mission of time and the methods of recording the space between actions. The idea of duration suddenly terrifies him, and he hides his clock in the wardrobe. Pausing only to put the clock face closer to his ear, he listens to the gentle insistence of its clockwork heart for movement and is hurriedly hidden from sight. Confident he would not be confined to the stifling rigidity of existing within minutes and seconds, but not confident enough to destroy the machine that displays and counts them. This action disgusts him. He also feels trapped in a body waiting to expire, a spectre in a grave of time, time, time. He returns to the table to complete the suicide note, wondering if it is the last time he steps across the room. He has moved across the wooden floorboard many times in his life, but he attaches any significance to this action now, because it may never happen again. Because it may never happen again.

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 24, 2025

I tread the archways With violence and death In my heart I'm clutching The broken flowers You destroyed Did you spread your legs for him The way you do for me? Did you gaze into his eyes The way you gaze at me? I heard the sirens Of the abyss When you caught my eye There desolations I faced with ease Untainted bravery Do you ever think of him When you're here with me? Do you ever picture him When you're fucking me? Did you spread your legs for him The way you do for me? Did you gaze into his eyes The way you gaze at me? Do you ever think of him When you're here with me? Do you ever picture him When you're fucking me?

Submitted by Sexy Gargoyle — Apr 24, 2025

There is a sorry for his suffering It grips him follows him Through the streets of London For without her He is without god You have to understand I'm jealous of everything that moves With obsession he takes her hand There is a sorrow to his suffering Through the streets of London Detached from the banality of men Who dwell in lesser ideals Evoking s sense of her Forming a diary of hate You have to understand I'm jealous of everything that moves With desire Encapsulates her She deceived as much as she loved But with just her step He forgives He wanted her for a lifetime Left only with his hatred No longer does He suffer Residing deep within her Yet when parted reduced to a nihilist With obsession He takes her hand With desire Encapsulates her

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 24, 2025

Imprisoned souls Left to walk Abandoned roads In the dark In this cold hearted world Empty and betrayed Welcome to cold harbour lane Sometimes its hard to live With the choices we have made By shutting yourself away Insincere and insane Something calls your name Don't disregard the devils game

Submitted by NecroLord — Apr 24, 2025