THIS IS A HORROR STORY, WRITTEN IN THE BLOOD OF THE DEVOTED, YOUR CONTRIBUTION HAS BEEN DULY NOTED.
You was the voice of the people just the other day,
Now you're fighting for a idealism that has long since gone away,
The underground is where the lost is found,
But you best pray it stays hidden,
Prepping a speech to distribute,
Listing the few reasons why you should be forgiven.
All that is brushed under the carpet must be cleaned up from time to time,
The lumps must go,
You know better than most Prime Minister,
Front page news can be sinister,
When you're the minority of all cultures,
And they snag on your tailored suit,
At everything you do,
While they respectably queue to take a shot at you.
Enjoy.
About the Creator
Jake Yates
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Absolute Zero
My ambitious maw couldn't keep me warm anymore. You were the wolfhound that kept attacking it to sustain yourself. Everything you could steal, you did no matter how insignificant. You siphoned my life in small increments in order to achieve a sense of regularity. It was all for appearance's sake. You were the rat king my tail kept getting attached to. I would scurry away but all to no avail. I wallowed in compromise and misery in an attempt to be less for you. I was driven but you were threatened by anything resembling intelligence. You loved me being incomplete. I pretended to be deaf so you could speak for me. I chose silence so you could choose for me instead. I learned to surrender because you felt some desperate need to be in command. My opinion of you continued to shrink. You were never the almighty one you convinced yourself you were. It's amazing how fragile your masculinity was so you had to take my dignity to supplement. I was the undead carcass you kept feeding on. You couldn't find your own food source so you used me for your appetite. You refused to find shelter so I became your haven at the expense of myself. You somehow always knew better, it seemed. Like there was written proof somewhere out there in the cosmos that you were the superior one. I was the deluded victim you had to subjugate and keep isolated. You made it your life's mission to devalue me. You did everything to justify your abusive and callous behavior. You were always my biggest disappointment, You made sure I didn't deserve better. I had to worship you because you lived off of recognition. I was kept hostage for 15 years while you remained drunk off of my tears. I was the aberration I sought but could never enforce. You were the unwelcome savior that felt compelled to trap me. I was held captive and was forced to enjoy it. I soared beyond your limitations but you punished me for that. My entropy was at always at your mercy. You wanted me at my lowest, at absolute zero. My energy was at your disposal. I was a dedicated zombie that couldn't breathe without your permission. I was forever caught in your perpetual undertow. What would it mean to prosper? What would it feel like to reclaim my power? I was the walking dead you feared would rise against you one day. I wasn't willing to join you at your subterranean level. My melancholy is no longer my friend. I have slowly ascended to the height I always pictured myself achieving. My endeavors refuse to be frigid and tepid. You are banished to the frozen exteriors of my mind. Where polar ice and bleak extremities knew me so well. I was once at absolute zero. I was a former version of myself you kept hidden for fear of losing to. I'm not who I used to be. I am allowed to evolve beyond arctic cold. I'm thawing out, slowly but surely. The temperature is rising and so am I. My heat obliterated you because you kept stripping me of it. I was a motionless entity, encased in marble glacier, a reminder of all that I had dreamt of. Those dreams have returned. They have bestowed their value unto me once more. I'm not your captive anymore. I've been diminished long enough. Go be one with your beloved entropy. My energy cannot be destroyed nor removed anymore. You have no more influence over me anymore
By Anna Torres5 days ago in Poets
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm6 days ago in Fiction
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