you only exist in perception
an illusory feat
you lead me with deception
and I fall weak

I feel that you’re close to me
but you’re never within my grasp
I can still smell the Issey Miyake
The goosebumbs they give me; when you walk past

you’re here with me now
and your presence always will be¨
but you let me down
and now your illusion tortures me

You still keep me warm at night
and enlighten my days
you give me strength to fight
you’re my mentor in many ways

I will always wonder what could have been
and what will be
and If I’ll ever find love again
if you don’t keep ruining it for me

I’m sick of wishing that you weren’t gone.
This false hope leads me on
Why can’t you? Let me move on.
with you watching me like this,
the thought of somebody new just feels so wrong

I want you here…
but, I want you gone.

© By PollutedPoet



why do you exist?
why can’t people resist
the bitter sweet taste of your poison.
Your a morbid curse that nobody would have chosen.

your like a vampires bite,
spreading evil through their veins
rushing inside, but still as night.
You torment minds, making them deranged,
but without you, they become estranged.

Your power, your fury.
Their weakness, their purity.

Dirty spike, disgusting truth,
troubled souls, innocent youth.

I’m enraged by your sins.
Your an intricate game
that nobody can win.

Zombifying those I know
and luring them to your potent flow.

why do people crave your rabid injection?
why do people glorify your lethal infection?

Why did you take him from me?
why do you create such misery?

like Satan you claimed his soul!
You possesed him, you took control!

you took it all, until there was nothing left!
You even took his last gasping breath!


You are death!

—————->> Carina Fosse

He Was a Poet

He was a poet
a renaissance man to some degree
artist of spoken word,
philosopher, published novelist and emcee.
A divine inspiration
He meant the world to me

He was a character
brilliant and unique
cluttered mind, rambled thoughts
he would mumble when he would speak,
ignored and misunderstood
some saw him as a freak

He was delusional,
but he saw the world so clearly
poetic randomness,
he had a mind boggling philosophy
lost and inebriated,
he escaped from a so called reality

he was calm and tranquil
but also edgy and stressed
he was joyful,
but looking back, he may have been depressed
he’d pop an upper, down a downer
anything to fix his deep unrest

I must believe that he chose his death
he is missed,
much more than I ever could have guessed
he was my first love
and to have loved him I am blessed

Carina Fosse


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