DignifiedGrave
GrinderofSouls
- Jul 5, 2026
- 51
Wasn't sure where else to put this so here is a dump of poems I dont want people close to me read.
...
Dignified grave. Don't mind if I - I'm depraved. If you stand there, dont look me in the face. Tongue stick and open eyes that show no tone with capillaries sick and hangin' body that gave a haunted tone. I awoke from last night after bitter attempts simulated in the brain and found myself feelin so damn alone, that last night's dream crept into the day and theres not a lot to say about it; I'm aching, and all I got was to feel a way about it. Two tries, two attempts made from believe, and nothing could come after that of which the mind doesnt mortally see, I felt it, phantom breath of life breathed out of me, like my whole damn soul had been slipping and it was an unsettling dream. I hung and my brain tried to kill me, unconsciously.
...
North Star fell last night and left the sky so lonely. Falling falling made the night so empty. Starring strange with bounded neck and plead to self for self to rest, for the self to forget that self yearns for death. Looking strange through twisted eyes that fixed on bed and thinks frightfully of a final bet that soul must go on another night. Not a choice to live, but a resolution for psyche debts, to see more steps and hold off the death. In ligature one pleads for life and rest. Will and desire in struggle and each tryna out do one another, pipsqueak will and strong desire, that tears you apart and send you down a spirit spire. It is will that wanes, that yawns and tires; growing, no slowing, is the strength of desire that eats ones heart up, thrashes nerves and retain recessed on start up. And faces roll by that see nothing behind your eyes which hallow upon sacred ground with illness disguised, reckless self determination putting loneliness in our perception, deception of recognition forced into deaths hand. Brain detest familiarity stained on ligatures anchor. The breathing, so slowly 'cause the image provoke no fear, and central nervous assistance, a system, made for the living that now accepts deaths outcome.
...
All the people that keep soul in bind to crusty earth, the hurt and the toil of hearts that seek to find a way to fly off to the outer skirts of space-
People treat suicide like such a waste, but body move a shallow will and tired muscle through thick air-space, and nearly nobody seems to be home behind the face; witness is the will trapped within an uncomfortable place.
People shackle ghost to mantle and keep body a pace, but soul grow tired and meekly and wants to have rest, bradychardia heart warrants a foreseen arrest and body come dull to allostatic stress.
...
Siren lul me hither with its beckoning bell; a sleazy song of absent's caress found on the deep side of pain.
A mind's long winter narrowing ego's focus extends itself way beyond it's time and finds within the self harrowing rains sulked upon grime.
Siren sing a bittersweet release into Ego's ear and leaves you on your lonesome with distorted eyes that see contorted motion- A deep compulsion, a ransom of soul, something so sinister it conquers your hope and crushes you so.
In the midst of disassociative mist, a fog that reduces person to witness: all that remains is the motion body, a mind clocked out as soul prep to fly, and Siren still sing it's lul to death, taking advantage of mind on the edge.
A person who hears is quite reasonably dead.
...
Thoracic pressure, intracranial, arterial laceration.
Thoracic pressure, pulmonary edema, lyrangeal obstruction.
Heart ache in bradycardia spike blood to the skull, a few more moments sends this mind to the unknown. A body stands like wicked doll, wired up strange on noose, a wicked heart pump with its all and fight this death induced; a horrid body with jugular small do not bare a clue as vision scatter and thoughts wither while this brain undo.
Tone it passes as heart slow further from its exasperated pump for life, the nose smells metal and ear hear pulsile whisper as blood flow through veins one last time.
Brain it scramble and regions combust as communication now has died: conscious small dreams itself a lullaby while brain pretends not to die, a final memory, a dream of euphoria to wash away the filth that is life.
...
Stress to seizure no aware electric mind in dizzy air, super seldom never rare low hrv and ego tear
Body squeeze a dull emotion and thought scatter while brain dysfunction over into its lap, eyes lightly close and vision start to take a form that manifest in stress overload.
A body crumple and mind bend while central nervous episode.
...
Dignified grave. Don't mind if I - I'm depraved. If you stand there, dont look me in the face. Tongue stick and open eyes that show no tone with capillaries sick and hangin' body that gave a haunted tone. I awoke from last night after bitter attempts simulated in the brain and found myself feelin so damn alone, that last night's dream crept into the day and theres not a lot to say about it; I'm aching, and all I got was to feel a way about it. Two tries, two attempts made from believe, and nothing could come after that of which the mind doesnt mortally see, I felt it, phantom breath of life breathed out of me, like my whole damn soul had been slipping and it was an unsettling dream. I hung and my brain tried to kill me, unconsciously.
...
North Star fell last night and left the sky so lonely. Falling falling made the night so empty. Starring strange with bounded neck and plead to self for self to rest, for the self to forget that self yearns for death. Looking strange through twisted eyes that fixed on bed and thinks frightfully of a final bet that soul must go on another night. Not a choice to live, but a resolution for psyche debts, to see more steps and hold off the death. In ligature one pleads for life and rest. Will and desire in struggle and each tryna out do one another, pipsqueak will and strong desire, that tears you apart and send you down a spirit spire. It is will that wanes, that yawns and tires; growing, no slowing, is the strength of desire that eats ones heart up, thrashes nerves and retain recessed on start up. And faces roll by that see nothing behind your eyes which hallow upon sacred ground with illness disguised, reckless self determination putting loneliness in our perception, deception of recognition forced into deaths hand. Brain detest familiarity stained on ligatures anchor. The breathing, so slowly 'cause the image provoke no fear, and central nervous assistance, a system, made for the living that now accepts deaths outcome.
...
All the people that keep soul in bind to crusty earth, the hurt and the toil of hearts that seek to find a way to fly off to the outer skirts of space-
People treat suicide like such a waste, but body move a shallow will and tired muscle through thick air-space, and nearly nobody seems to be home behind the face; witness is the will trapped within an uncomfortable place.
People shackle ghost to mantle and keep body a pace, but soul grow tired and meekly and wants to have rest, bradychardia heart warrants a foreseen arrest and body come dull to allostatic stress.
...
Siren lul me hither with its beckoning bell; a sleazy song of absent's caress found on the deep side of pain.
A mind's long winter narrowing ego's focus extends itself way beyond it's time and finds within the self harrowing rains sulked upon grime.
Siren sing a bittersweet release into Ego's ear and leaves you on your lonesome with distorted eyes that see contorted motion- A deep compulsion, a ransom of soul, something so sinister it conquers your hope and crushes you so.
In the midst of disassociative mist, a fog that reduces person to witness: all that remains is the motion body, a mind clocked out as soul prep to fly, and Siren still sing it's lul to death, taking advantage of mind on the edge.
A person who hears is quite reasonably dead.
...
Thoracic pressure, intracranial, arterial laceration.
Thoracic pressure, pulmonary edema, lyrangeal obstruction.
Heart ache in bradycardia spike blood to the skull, a few more moments sends this mind to the unknown. A body stands like wicked doll, wired up strange on noose, a wicked heart pump with its all and fight this death induced; a horrid body with jugular small do not bare a clue as vision scatter and thoughts wither while this brain undo.
Tone it passes as heart slow further from its exasperated pump for life, the nose smells metal and ear hear pulsile whisper as blood flow through veins one last time.
Brain it scramble and regions combust as communication now has died: conscious small dreams itself a lullaby while brain pretends not to die, a final memory, a dream of euphoria to wash away the filth that is life.
...
Stress to seizure no aware electric mind in dizzy air, super seldom never rare low hrv and ego tear
Body squeeze a dull emotion and thought scatter while brain dysfunction over into its lap, eyes lightly close and vision start to take a form that manifest in stress overload.
A body crumple and mind bend while central nervous episode.
