I am struck, still. This poem is beyond amazing. BY OLDEPUNK some of us are just broken born of dust and little disappointments bleak barrow bones and lamented jewels made of helpless tears and midnight fears saltpeter and cobwebs, nickel and ne… Source: broken
An outstanding piece on one of my favourite sites. Oldepunk is everything! Enveloped, and cresting the dusk of dawn the palace is ancient there are only shadows of ghosts in residence clinging to the false sun above my bed they sometimes whisper nonsense to hear only our … Source: Lucid
oldepunk delivers a gut punch of the wickedest sort. This is an outstanding piece of writing.
This was inspired by my friend Georgia. XOXO
How can I feel so much pain
yet feel nothing how many times have I been stung
yet never touched by the sting
If forever is a fever if never is never
what good is it to be this fucking clever
I know what I know and write it down to show
but no, I’m a low fellow
I cannot go
what use is useless, clueless
sometimes mostly stupid and tuneless
ostensibly deranged but you knew that
so how can I feel so fucking dead
was it something that was said?
because all I suffer is in my head
but it doesn’t hurt, it’s just the pain in the rain singing my name for another go at the game and it’s such a shame that I cannot feel anything
Because if i could, you would have just broken me…..
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