#dedicatedtodemons

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Okay

I say "Okay" far more than I actually mean it, Until it doesn't even feel like a word anymore. It sits in my mouth like a lit match, Burning a hole in my tongue And I'm afraid it's gonna slide down my throat, That I'm gonna swallow it the way I do everything, And then it'll find the scraps of paper All my other thoughts are written on, Soaked in the fuel I give them And just like that-- They'll be gone. Replaced by just...okay. "Look, I'm not gonna have time for you this weekend." Okay. "I really thought you could handle this. I'm very disappointed." Okay. "Your friend has really nice tits." Okay. "You cut again? You need to grow out if that shit." Okay. "I don't need this from you right now." Okay. It's okay. I'm okay. Okay. Okay okay okay. Nothing left, nothing but ashes and an empty fucking lie, an anti-word. And all of those times when I should have told you the truth, When I should have spoken my mind while I still had one, Maybe you'll remember them And smell smoke.

[thecrookedsuccubus]

It’s beautiful, your transformation, Your warm and caring guise Cracking and crumbling In to scalding pain and lies.

How can you pretend so? Turn to rock from polished glass? I once though you benevolent, You are instead coarse and crass.

But your rule here is done, There is no more to mitigate, No more of my madness For you to manipulate.

Take with you your facade Your careful deceit. I have no more energy For you to deplete.

Because it’s true, I once Found you compassionate I felt I needed you around But your hurt is deliberate And without you I can be My own degenerate.

So fuck off and fuck you

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Hey I don't know if you guys are becoming aware or have been aware but I have a few tags of my own so I'm gonna make a list of those. And I will probably put a link on my blog. Just sayin'.

DedicatedToDemons is typically my darker, angstier (angsty-er?) poetry or prose

Adventures in a Mental Hospital are poems about or personal posts concerning, well, the mental hospital I was committed to. It's also the name of my other blog that has nothing to do with poetry.

The Paper Girl is a collection of poems that are inspired by and dedicated to this lovely person who is the model for a character of my own design (the Paper Girl, go figure) Accompanying this heroin is another character, the Boy Made of Music Notes, who is based off this gentleman.

Crayon Ramblings are my inconsequential sleepy musings that typically don't make sense but every once in a while I strike something that might resemble gold.

And there's one more that I've used that has a few pieces dedicated to this beautiful mother fucker right here that I can't remember the name of presently.

So yeah, that's just a quick guide to better navigate my dystopian labyrinth of writing.

[thecrookedsuccubus]

I guess it's time for depressing poems again woooohooo

If you're scrolling through, my deepest apologies for the darkness below.

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Perfect song for tonight.

-Demons by Imagine Dragons-

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Menace

Throw me away-- Throw me in hell. Give me to the demons and hope That they do not adopt me.

Pray to your God that I stay And that you are rid of me quickly-- That the pit devours me wholly And it does not see... Does not feed my wickedness.

For misery loves company, And if I am misery, Imagine the company I keep.

And I will pray with you. I will pray that you shake When my company calls And when you are in the wake Of the miserable hearts I command--

That I created When you threw me away... When you gave me to the demons.

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Crawl

Stand up, Look at the torn skin- The bloody skin on our hands. The gritty scabs on our knees, The criss-cross of red and black.

Why do we insist on crawling? Because the asphalt begs us, And the sky weighs us down Isn't simpler to surrender?

We've forgotten the tastes The winds, the world. And the molten black-top Burns us, but still we stay.

You may crave this carress, this embrace. but I despise this simple hellish existence. Stand up, look at our hands Skin was not meant to be red and black.

[thecrookedsuccubus]

Miss Me

I can feel you in the dark, Your eyelids flick-flick fluttering Like the wings of confused moths Who have lost their light.

I can hear you in the dark, Your restless skin scraping Against the burning sheets, Or is it us that burns so?

I can see you in the dark, Your tired body begging for sleep But your fool head knowing we won't, Although you dread being conscious.

So lay in the dark, you wretch, As you torture us with seconds, tik-tok, tik-tok, Another moment That you deny you miss me.