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mothwasher Jul 2020
the mattress is possessed and my days are numbered

my numbers are possessed and

tree branches are starting to grow from inside

my neck, sprouting ****** bulbous limbs

wearing the springs of my mattress

in my sleep, the tree talks to my mattress

from my throat

they are in cohorts and I suppose

the ghost has nothing to do with it

but in the end the ghost will

have an affair with the mattress

and they will run away leaving the tree

and my numbers

I can’t speak because of the

tree

and the karmic terror

of the heavy branches tearing

through my throat

the ghost doesn’t know about the tree

the mattress will never tell her

the mattress is missing several springs

the mattress is possessed and can only speak in tongues

so the ghost only hears the whispers of leaves
Mandi Wolfe Dec 2019
In the moments before death my brain had flooded with DMT  
And I could see in my mind’s eye all of the best that had been between us.
From somewhere above my body I silently screamed that the DNR was a mistake
I was comforted then in knowing that you would soon follow me into the dark
-a willing victim of our shared cancer.
I had seen your hospice nurses and heard your death rattles for years.
Even still I longed so much for you to grab the paddles and force me back
but we had agreed not to resuscitate;
so paralyzed I watched my life leave.

It was first with a whimper and then with sobs
that I grasped wildly around the small pitch box
in search of you who had promised to die with me.
I found instead more darkness, the smell of dirt
and that not even the ghost of you had come to lay.

I can sometimes hear you eulogize my goodness from above
when you come to pick the flowers I’m growing with what is left of me.
I won’t reach for you anymore as I did last night.
I will lie very still.
Without a whimper.
This may still be a work in progress.
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2018
Will never forget the first time
Was injected with an illegal drug
It was my suggestion
Laughed it off with a shrug

Addiction already running wild
Causing life torture and Hell
We reached the point where
We'd do anything to stay well.

I tentatively offered up
Opportunity, you jumped at the chance
Both saw the answer we craved
Hidden within the other's glance

Was scared, heart beating fast
Doubt building, I stared at the spoon
As the ****** melts, mind wonders
How did life change so much since yesterday afternoon?

Eyes that woke goblins within
Something darker in me
And night welcomed us weightless
Into a new barren wasteland, unevenly

Lucifers playing tricks in the dying light
Blinded in that foolish hour
I saw the syringe held softly in your palm
Goosebumps rose, was awed by its power

Of course fear on my face was clear
You made a half-hearted attempt for me
To ease concern, your cruel comfort
Did little to set uncertainty free

Something smoking deep inside
Whispered "this is leading nowhere good"
You touch flesh, searching for a vein
Stomach sinking, I am doing what I swore I never would

I swallow hard, you tie off my arm
Shoelace wrapped with indifference, no guilt in your eye
You glimpse the tears welling up fast
Say sharply "I'm not going to do it if you're going to cry."

But it is already in the needle
It is a little late to turn back now
I take a deep breath, suppress the teardrops
Shake shame off the sins I chose to allow

Turn my head to avoid the sick sight
Try to focus on the smell of coffee in the air
Let out a quiet whimper when the stinging pain hits
Wishing to teleport anywhere besides there

It was over after a few short moments
I felt better so I told myself it was okay
I promised it would be the last and only time
I have not parted with the needle since that day
This is a very personal one for me, I apologize for anyone offended by the subject matter, but I think its inpprtant to share because once you cross that line is is ******* hard to go back to smoking or however ypu did/do your drugs..
Sean Murray Jan 2018
Thieves, thieves.
Christ are we petty.

Could not have imagined
such a death
Such a short-sited
venomous slip of the mind
such a death-toll...
so unpredicted-ably sad to see
            A mighty species
Die.

That's the fate of the fate-less, I guess
Our gods were a faceless
Mass
of derangement
Massive enough to take us to space.
What we've plucked from out of our souls
We can never replace

Such as it is, we have no chance
Put to death.
****** and detached.
That's how it ends
--surrounded.

We write out
these sorrows
that aren't really sorrows
and
Pin the tasteless love to our chests

Oratorical ****-hoarding
Trade-card victims
with no actual dignity left.

How embarrassing..
the glory of man-kind
To face a demise,
so mundane.

Forsaken by lies.


Our souls have been neutered and
Turned into tools for
Violently-popular
Prostitution-alized fools

Love for the luscious
the rush of the snarling
Hysterical rousings of
Tumultuous twerps.

This is the way that history ends.

Resting in our dreams.
Sorry for my last post,
I was drunk and tired and just slammed out a bunch of craziness.
I'm not going to delete it though because I stand by my point... whatever that might be.
Pauline Morris Apr 2016
What does it sound like when all hope is lost
It's a silent scream in the empty dark
No one knows what to you it cost
No one can see it's left it's mark
It happens when you're all alone
When you've tried everything but it doesn't matter
You just try to find a safty zone
But the voices in your head still chatter
Telling you, you can't make it through the day
And at night you plot your death
You are slowly starting to decay
You know on the inside there's nothing left
I know what the sound is when your last hope dies
It's but a mournful whimper
It's only seen in your eyes
It leaves you cold, it's a soul killer
Stanley Wilkin Dec 2015
A deepening hue, packaging crisp and dry,

Telescoping skies, hard bitten with dust

A sly moon, scarred and half-lit.

It didn’t end with a whimper

After all,

But brightly and loudly like a celebration.

It was proud of its going.

Colour spawned from a devil’s jaw, not

A god’s dull reason. Fire everywhere,

Referencing volcanic insinuations, the afterbirth of a planet.

The last man standing

Was burnt to a crisp
WickedHope Dec 2014
If I promised not to hurt you,
                                    would you trust me not to?
If I told you I was sorry,
                                           would you believe me?
If I called you tonight,
                                          would you listen to my
                whimpers and whispers?
Surprise, I want you.
K Balachandran Jun 2014
The night, is present with all her special accoutrements,
see how mystifying her final role is; from  now time is at a stand still!
the stellar remnants, after the play is finally over
                       --interstellar medium of gas, dust and dark matter
                       accumulated waste after the rock concert, light years long.

Sell it to the best collector of art in the cosmos
go fast,  find him before all the universes crumble.
Let each piece feed to his ego's need and the greed to possess
make him  brag to the cosmic pantheon that he has the Piccassos, Dalis
and The scream, Munch's epiphany of mankind's predicament,
and all the galaxies from the dwarf to the most massive
present, past and the ones just fermenting on a wasted hope,
and the most original of the nights, the very last ever.

We'll drink the bubbling white blood of the day and dance,
the moon is our accomplice, we want to disappear together
before everything starts to disintegrate,
humankind on a pilgrimage, has then a change of mind
ladies and gentlemen we now are going
not for a fishing expedition in tranquil seas, but for a hunt in the wild.

hunt the rest of the world that rejects
our proposal to surrender, to the inevitable, we invited
we were immortals till the day before
but then we found out everything has a price.
For the gift of fire to the mankind, Prometheus had to
endure tantalizing days and nights,  countless
let's forget the fear of sin, and false happiness of hope
even water becomes our pain,
once we are forced to think in terms of sustenance.

— The End —