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Matthew Webb Poem
All these thoughts running around my head in a sadistic fashion
sitting me down and force feeding misery to the shallow doll that is me.
What a tea party, what a way to spend my days under the bed with the other broken dolls
What a gathering of emptiness
Nobody wants a broken doll
Im unfixable
Caress my madness with a jagged blade cutting it out of me with that smile on your face, the crooked mouth and face twisting as i shut my eyes to hide within myself whilst everything outside of me is decaying.
What a wonderful smile you dont have what a way to spend my time thinking about nothing
My thoughts hurt the swelling of blackouts elapses
Blackout.....blackout completely.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2015
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Matthew Webb Poem
Im trying to piece the puzzle of my mind together but theres missing pieces and all the remaining ones are covered in black stained memories close to shattering like glass always living in the shadows unable to live in the light I am a puppet controlled by life being hung over a pit waiting to be dropped with thin unstable threads being humiliated by pain, prolonged distortion. The audience laugh as i fall down fall down breakdown breakdown
Mannequin puppet is me. I died and now my corpse is a puppet of amusement, a tool a mere discardable item with nothing to it. Empty caress again, nothing nothing nothing nothing.
How much more suffering do i have to go through for someone to help me.
Today feels like it never happened.
I'll be there when your dying, smiliiiing.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2016
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Matthew Webb Poem
Solid mannequins stand in the shop of society wearing clothes that they think is right to wear because of the sheep. Being put, put in poses and having photos taken of there empty faces. They're everywhere surrounding me in places, faces I can't distinguish. People are mannequins until you paint on them. But I don't like painting on society mannequins, they're all the same living the same life as everyone else. Being strung along in the illusion of society. Trends, blends, unwanted friends for a meaningless social security to fit in is what they do thus making them mannequins that stand in the shop of society wearing clothes that they think is right to wear because of the sheep. Being put, put in poses and having photos taken of there empty faces.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2014
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Matthew Webb Poem
I dripped into the night liquidating and metamorphosing.
Somehow managed to form a string of emotion tied with self deprecation, darkness and other forms of chaotic Structure.
Conceived into black and bathed in cold emotion.
A world of depression leaves me bound by persistent fear forever drowning me in despair.
Submerged in a liquid sense of isolation that shrouds the deep Ink abyss.
Defined yet undefined underwater sinking me further.
Will I ever emerge from the liquid that sinks my body.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2014
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Matthew Webb Poem
Everyone has a secret.
Put on your face your going out, outside. Is it you feel you should be different. to change into something you're not. To be like everyone else you feel?
Social interaction, body language gives you away. You look so fake but no one else sees it. Are they the same?
Everyone has a secret.
Just peel that face away.
I want to see what's inside but you won't let me.
No need to obscure yourself.
I hide too
from people like you.
There is too many drones.
Are you real? I don't think so.
Go with the rest then.
Blend with the rest then.
Be the same.
Don't be free then.
I'll watch your actions unfold and witness your deterioration process.
you are just another media induced society mannequin.
Human beings will die and the society mannequins will take over like machines in the matrix.
Does it all really matter anyways?
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2014
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Matthew Webb Poem
Falling through the cold air, sliding through mud down a cliff side. Skins paler than pale and I can't breath or see straight. As the air caress' the skin and the dirt stains me as I drop further down into a blood filled lake feeling the heavy water restrict my movement and pulling me down like quick sand I.
Waterfall into the asylum corridor and find my self back in the sanitarium.
Pills don't work.
Doctor slides off the wall with a burnt smile on his face asking how you are you feeling today? I should of held a mirror in his face.
It reflected more on him than me but I created him. He doesn't care I don't think. Sand bag body falls of the ceiling, doctors fill the room nurses say nothing they look but they don't know what to say.
Imagination, desecration.
My pit my imagination my asylum.
I awaken not feeling fully conscious again. The day feels like a dream like any other day of this existence, I blackout seeing the day in stages my mood swings come back twisting my head around revealing another face. I change like I'm bi polar I feel strange again getting up in a distorted World of my perception.
Sometimes I come back here, sometimes I leave and sometimes it scarres and scares me.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2015
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Matthew Webb Poem
The serene beauty of the beach
the waves of the sea flow like my emotion
As I breath in the air you fade away near me leaving me alone
I swim to the shore embracing a world of bliss
but I don't know where you have gone
I step through the beach feeling the warm sand caress my bare feet
Happy but sad questioning your disappearance.
where did you go?
You re emerge in the sun lit forest pathway
The trees move with the wind and a sight of beauty sends serenity through me
as I rejoin with you we shall travel together through this utopia.
.tsohg a erew ouy kniht I
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2015
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Matthew Webb Poem
I'm dying your laughing
Collapsed emotion renders depression
Repression elapses within me
Blackness
Seeping through me like ink dripping on a canvas
My catharsis is over
Now I'm left to push the pieces under the floor of my mind
Why?
There's something wrong with me?
Your dying. I'm laughing
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2014
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Matthew Webb Poem
When I'm unconscious I enter a surreal dream state in which I don't feel real or alive
and when I wake up I feel the same way.
It is hard to distinguish my thoughts and distorted feelings with the ever growing
suffering in me.
Something so simple like relaxing is a chore for me
a mirror opposite of what I want
An opposition in me
stopping me growing
and helping me die.
The tree of me is withering and lifeless
All the leaves have fallen into the mud
I stand waiting to die.
Underneath the soil was once me and my past
But now just an evanescing echo in time
Buried forever
My body disintegrates
like the tree of suffocating souls.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2015
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Matthew Webb Poem
The air slipped onto the gramaphone the needle cutting me bleeding on the floor as mannequins watched with there masquerade masks sewn on took my arm saying "care to dance my lady" as we waltzed into the night transcending emotions filled the room with essence as i laid head rested on his shoulders looking up around surround sound saying " i didnt think mannequins could tarantella like that " in the ballroom swinging in symetry.
Blood clotted dirt in the wound muddy dark night, disfigured body parts the flicker in my mind goes out again like a light in an obfuscated room, Drug fueled visions bottle hanging through whos that climbing through the windows fingertips single flick of the light switch painting of that ditch under the morgue worn torn asunder plunder linger gun slinger sling your hook look the parties over.
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2016
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