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Poetry
blood in the water.
The truth is that I’d like to be eaten, swallowed whole like a star in space. This is the great secret. The heart of the matter. My problem is that I’m bored.
artbycupid
6 days ago1 min read
swordplay pt.1
There is more to my enemy than a weapon. Remove the sword and they stand on shaky legs, heart quickening against their sleeve. Only a coward leads with defeat, hands already burying their head. Beyond the veil, there is every deceit, every mask cracked open. I’d like to see their faces, before the casting. There is a lot to be said about who a man chooses to be.
artbycupid
Dec 81 min read
bad fruit.
My Dear, Ripened and rotted, you’ve lingered long enough. I struggle now to pluck the stench from the silk bedding, unwilling to admit that you are just no good. It’s strange how our lust defines us, influences the abandonment
artbycupid
Nov 181 min read
real boy.
I thought a shadow was a man and chased a promise spoken not. I wished into an empty whole, an ocean left to waste and drought. His heart, cast in a solemn hue, black trenches where blood pumped to dry. A thick mask to hide a formless face, a small lie to mask a jaded high. His love, a mix of lust and doubt to warp the virgin light askew. He calls when he has disappeared within his mind left to brood. He cannot be left without a torch to shape a mired design, or else he lo
artbycupid
Nov 111 min read
oh, little dove,
we all fall apart sometimes. We all find ourselves stumbling over our feet, wings fluttering in perfect humiliation. That’s the part we must accept, that every one of us must fight the pavement. That when you’re in the air it's just you keeping yourself alive, and every moment you struggle to catch the wind beneath you ...
artbycupid
Nov 31 min read
weeping.
The story of the world is not about people. It’s about a planet that wanted die, but couldn’t for a very long time. Instead it ate garbage and cried, heavily and for many days at a time. The story of the world is not about people. It is about a life destroyed to be in service, despite its limits, constant pain and no one to trust. Hidden beneath the soil and flowers, overlooked in the passing hours, a life that once was loved has been demolished…by people…by us.
artbycupid
Oct 241 min read
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