I shouldn't have gone out walking, alone,
Tonight of all nights, I should have stayed away.
There is an abyss here, a perverted tear in the earth,
Trickling with the waters of Lethe,
Alive with the shades of the dead.
And here they are;
Dead things are coming, with their eyes like soured, milky rubies.
The smell of hunger is red,
And that is what I can smell,
Their starvation, their need,
They no longer breathe, or bleed,
But they can hunger, and they do,
And they smell me; something new,
A clean soul ripe for corruption.
Hungrily they come, tendons trailing, mouths agape,
Here is our vision; here is the shape
Of the dead world that will be.
They will take us, in our billions,
But tonight, they'll just take me.

Don't ever stop kissing me, in your dreams
Because I can feel those kisses, all of them.
Even as I sleep, I am joining you
In everything we long to do.
Your mouth moves on mine, my body responds,
Soft, trembling, urgent, overwhelming,
Your tongue tempts my own,
I taste you, you moan.
Please, dream-devour, tease, please.
I arch my back, and cry out,
Writhing fiercely in your arms.
And you cry out, into the abyss of the night,
I am your echo, mirroring the dream.

There is nobody there for you, and now, there never will be. I don’t have a goodbye for you. I tried to find one, I searched really hard, but shifting through the **** made me sick. I’m well again now. I don’t have anything for you. Once I had everything. All my words were wonders and they leapt out of the sun, smiling, but you shot them down with a blood-encrusted gun. They flopped around mewling, trying to hide behind injured wings, as you sought them out and stepped on them, laughing. Dream-cruncher, word-waster, selling your sad, sick song. You specialize in nasty tastes, brutal boy, and you won’t care. Narcissist. Ego King. I don’t think you have ever loved. You would love this poem.

When you fixated on parts of me
You reduced me to those things.
I loved you,
So I swallowed the hurt,
And I swallowed the sad,
And I gave you everything that I had.
I became what you wanted,
I sliced off those body parts
And sent them to you, reluctantly, at first
But a starving dog will beg for a bone;
When I saw that was all that I could hope for
I let you cut me up.
I sent you segments of me.
But the one part that you never asked for
Wept and wept, waiting for your love
Waiting, in vain, crying, in pain.

Your birth was a storm of pain.
Red clouds
Roiling above a viscous sea.
Each surge
A bargain made with nature
For redemption, for release.

But I was never afraid.
I listened to you, your quiet calm,
Connecting, even then.
I breathed, perspired and rode
the rapids of my body,
Followed the pulse and rhythm of something unrestrained,
Released from deep within,
Urging me on.

There's a moment, when birthing
Like finding yourself alone, in a hot air balloon,
Rising higher and higher
Without the hope of return to solid ground.
You feel your insides gather, prepare for something new,
And it is new,
Indescribable, other, you feel like a creature from another world
And that's what you looked like too.
Little alien, yet so familiar
Eyes on each other
Daughter and mother.

The noon sun blisters the earth,
Beats upon the brain, semi-boiling blood.
I am swimming through the sun, its rays are waves
breaking over me, soaking me with sweat
that pools under my bared *******.
Slick with lotion, I shift upon the searing sand, aroused,
Dreaming of a shaded room, your fingers on my sun-kissed skin,
And there you are; with a frosted glass
of something cold, crusted with icy diamonds.
Smiling, you hold it against my flesh
Relieving that small part of me from heat,
Raising gleeful goosebumps,
Cooling me outside
And stoking a fire within.

A lifetime ago
On a mountain covered with snow
An empty ski-lift swinging overhead
He deflowered her.
The crazy pumping of their hips
Synchronized to the clanking of the empty chairs,
Around, around, around again,
Slot machines pumping
diamonds and aces and crowns, three in a row, jackpot,
Hearts bursting, snow gathering, pooling, cooling warm places
Undetected, overtaken by other sensation
Processing, processing everything felt
Blood mingled with melted snow
On a mountain
A lifetime ago.

I have seen, somewhere, a beautiful green beetle.
It would not be so bad to be breathtaking
People would open the window, smiling
And let me flutter through.
But though I sometimes think I shine,
Fact is, I’m just a worm,
A segmented soldier of the dank, damp earth
Fated to be trampled, waterlogged
Poked with a stick, eaten by a bird
Or simply, unable to find the path
Lost, panicking, grazed by gravel
Trying to find my way home.

What is your favourite poem of all those you have read here, on this site?

Here's mine. Every time I read this poem I get a lump in my throat:

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/556339/wouldnt-chest/

There is a beauty spot somewhere on my body,
And I want you to find it.
Drink me in
As your fingers surf my skin.
Take your time
It's all about the journey,
You are creating
as you trace.
Oh yes, linger there, scrutinise intently
Touch me, slowly, gently,
I am smiling,
Because I know where it is.

There is not enough time
To be anything other than yourself.
I wish I had known...
It should always be this easy.
It should always feel this good.

1.  I've said all I have to say. Please never contact either of us again.

2. Don't bother. I don't want you to. All you do is hurt me. I've been hurting for too long and I need to be strong.

3.  I miss you but I've had enough.

4. You forgot you were my friend. You forgot you were my friend. You forgot and I told you NEVER TO FORGET.

5. No you won't, I'm closing every possible avenue of contact.

6. Grow a pair, ******.

7. Go **** yourself.

A peanut butter bagel
And a really strong coffee, laced with sugar.
Sunlight dapples carpet
Slippers cushion feet.
Cats purr
Children stir
Poems call
And I am simply
      Happy.

I am a bit hot
For Harriet Tecumsah
What is wrong with that...?

Sunbeams reach through the window
Touching me, tentatively,
Raising gooseflesh, waking desire.
Dormant nevermore,
I am a Summerchild,
Opening up to the promise of the light.
Banish deathwatch Winter
Gift me the Spring like a flower in bud
To slowly open, as the days grow longer,
And the memories of darkness fade
with long forgotten grief
abandoned, left to drown
Amidst the January floods.

Today,
A little happy peeked around the corner
And waved.
He was shaped like a question mark,
And kept changing colour
For he couldn't quite decide
If blue was appropriately ironic.

I haven't seen a happy for a while,
So I waved back,
And he turned red.
Either blushing, or angry,
A reluctant happy.
Nevertheless,
He made me smile.

Crossing Tower Bridge
I time travel, past many
Thames borne broken hearts

Monstrous, perching
Lurching
Between-icon-between
City Fiend
Money slips from sweating fists
He lists
Elitist
(He's ******)
Taking, Faking
Raging, Breaking
Monstrous, perching
City Fiend.

Yes, freaky man on bus
Those are my *******, I'm sure
You must have seen a pair before?
I can tolerate a quick glance,
But is there any chance
You could take your stare elsewhere
For at least some of this journey?
I saw you pay in cash
At least you're getting your money's worth, at my expense.
I'd crotch-watch, pointedly,
Except there isn't much to see.

Turn away from me. Abandon everything you think you know.  I will never, and have never, and can never, offer you anything of any value or importance. I am lost, to myself and to you.

Turn away and leave me here, festering in a wilderness that I conceived and believed and embraced, willingly. Turn away and find a muse, someone who glows, and knows, and doesn't need.

Turn away. Leave. Don't grieve.
Don't try to find me. I am never coming back.

Golden infant, left abandoned, in a world you'll never know,
Cupid found you bathed in sunlight
And he froze you in the snow.
You are sleeping, I am weeping,
Both for you, and she who fled,
She will keep her grief so secret,
You will never leave your bed.

You never touched me,
But your fingertips found lips
And entered, in dreams.

I don't want to write about the cold, the wind,
The rain or these January doldrums.
England at this time of year is desperate and depressing,
And I'm longing for warm breezes, nighttime teases
A pregnant, chuckling moon at midnight. August dances,
Wild advances, stolen, secret, hungry glances.
Magic, confusion, summer scents
BBQ, Samsara, Bacardi and Cava,
And the kind of flowers that try to impregnate you with their scent;
Smell me! they plead,  then kiss as I burst, spilling my pollen,
Blessing the union of your hungry, eager mouths.
January is barren but August is ripe, heady, ready,
Moist and pulsing, life is in the air,
Flee the doldrums, take me there.

Things are getting harder
And I cannot carry on
Burdened with these butterflies
That just won't die.
I am a specimen in a jar
Observed by a curious self.
I flutter to the top, to an airhole,
One delicious gasp,
And then I fall back, waiting
For the strength to rise again.
Forgive me,
I am new to myself and only want release
Perhaps I need to be restrained,
To ever find some peace.

Gotta stop writing
**** love poems
For a complete ****
Who will never read them.

Gotta stop writing
Crap fantasies
About a complete ****
Who will never fulfil them.

Gotta stop writing
Sick eulogies
For a dead friendship
That will never hear them.

Gotta stop writing
**** love poems
Before they become
All that I can write.

Scalpel to the eye
Will slice away my blindness
At least - some of it.