deepundergroundpoetry.com
ツ I'm Dead Inside ツ
People don't fall in love with the death they see in me
They just notice the glimmers of life left in me
I like to run away from their love because
Everything that is around me goes madder then the hatter
I try to save them all from myself, from the monster in me
But tonight I am all alone and I need someone who isn't friendzoned
I lay in my bed, dead thoughts float in the deep water in my head
I would love to have a lover or two who know just what to do
But an undead lover is hard to find, they don't make them anymore
And I certainly don't want a human manwhore to come knocking at my door
So here I lay hating all that is alive and wishing even more of me were dead inside
I run all throughout the day, from the sunlight I try to get away
For the sun shows off my morgue styled scars and the blueness of my skin
But at night no body knows, no one gets who I actually am
I dress to impress and wear perfume to mask the rotting smell of my breath
No one seems to care that the putrid smell lingers everywhere
They just notice the glimmers of life left in me
I like to run away from their love because
Everything that is around me goes madder then the hatter
I try to save them all from myself, from the monster in me
But tonight I am all alone and I need someone who isn't friendzoned
I lay in my bed, dead thoughts float in the deep water in my head
I would love to have a lover or two who know just what to do
But an undead lover is hard to find, they don't make them anymore
And I certainly don't want a human manwhore to come knocking at my door
So here I lay hating all that is alive and wishing even more of me were dead inside
I run all throughout the day, from the sunlight I try to get away
For the sun shows off my morgue styled scars and the blueness of my skin
But at night no body knows, no one gets who I actually am
I dress to impress and wear perfume to mask the rotting smell of my breath
No one seems to care that the putrid smell lingers everywhere
Published 8th May 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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8th May 2015 7:53pm
8th May 2015 7:59pm
I wasn't sure if these piece came across how I would have liked but I am glad someone likes it :)
9th May 2015 8:20am
That "human manwhore" was gold :)
And hey...death is cool, life is so overrated lol...and so many are dead inside and just don't know it, zombies wearing their make-up.
And hey...death is cool, life is so overrated lol...and so many are dead inside and just don't know it, zombies wearing their make-up.
9th May 2015 5:07pm
11th May 2015 10:28pm
12th May 2015 3:29pm
14th May 2015 7:48am
There's just as much potency, magnitude of emotion in the murky waters of decay. From swamps new life is born.
I lay in my bed, dead thoughts float in the deep water in my head
I would love to have a lover or two who know just what to do
Da-da-dum, da-da-dum, / Bump, bump, want, want..
It's a really cool technique of creative hypnosis that you used here, maybe inadvertently. The fingertips drumming on a desk rhythm, steady relaxes the brain. Especially when used with words to represent a settling in... followed by the same rhythm, injecting base desires through that subliminal door. Effects like this become most apparent to me when it's orated. That kind of technique isn't taught anywhere, but people who use their voices as keys use it.
But an undead lover is hard to find, they don't make them anymore
And I certainly don't want a human manwhore to come knocking at my door
Who more selective than a vampire? Elevating the concept, not with brazen lust-compliments about that kind of lover, but just presenting the longing, then the reducing comment of not wanting to settle for the banal, the beta, the bang-anyone-boys, adds such a confidence to holding down the template of monster-love. Speaking from that zone is cool because it makes no fucking apologies for wanting what you want, just shows disappointment in what's presented. And as well your prose should stand on its own that way. Promoting what others espouse is too easy, too pat. A deprived lover makes a fine artist. It's the hunger.
So here I lay hating all that is alive and wishing even more of me were dead inside
I run all throughout the day, from the sunlight I try to get away
Life is change and all that things that don't change fast enough or change to stay the same keep glittering like tacks inside. It's cool to think of sunlight bathing you and every reflective thing falling off.
I lay in my bed, dead thoughts float in the deep water in my head
I would love to have a lover or two who know just what to do
Da-da-dum, da-da-dum, / Bump, bump, want, want..
It's a really cool technique of creative hypnosis that you used here, maybe inadvertently. The fingertips drumming on a desk rhythm, steady relaxes the brain. Especially when used with words to represent a settling in... followed by the same rhythm, injecting base desires through that subliminal door. Effects like this become most apparent to me when it's orated. That kind of technique isn't taught anywhere, but people who use their voices as keys use it.
But an undead lover is hard to find, they don't make them anymore
And I certainly don't want a human manwhore to come knocking at my door
Who more selective than a vampire? Elevating the concept, not with brazen lust-compliments about that kind of lover, but just presenting the longing, then the reducing comment of not wanting to settle for the banal, the beta, the bang-anyone-boys, adds such a confidence to holding down the template of monster-love. Speaking from that zone is cool because it makes no fucking apologies for wanting what you want, just shows disappointment in what's presented. And as well your prose should stand on its own that way. Promoting what others espouse is too easy, too pat. A deprived lover makes a fine artist. It's the hunger.
So here I lay hating all that is alive and wishing even more of me were dead inside
I run all throughout the day, from the sunlight I try to get away
Life is change and all that things that don't change fast enough or change to stay the same keep glittering like tacks inside. It's cool to think of sunlight bathing you and every reflective thing falling off.
15th May 2015 3:42pm
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