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Sep 17 · 539
You feel like
A ghastly mist, crawling up my toes
Touching frozen ground as you wrap
The soles of my feet in pasty white.

You feel like
Wet hair seeping through every thread
Of a pillowcase where you rest your head
Cold, warm, cold, warm—uncomfortable.

You feel like
Sore eyes from screens too bright
As you type in bold, black thoughts
A manifesto of the conflicts within.

You feel like
A room with no light, air, and sounds
Stagnancy echoing—the streaks, the blowing, the ringing
Were all dampened, washed out, unheard of.

You feel like
The sudden flash of blindness in the sky
Overlapping the deepest violets with such crisp tear
And they, too, tear as well.

You feel like
An intrusive intrusion of an intruder
An interlude to all the things you've done
An intermission to the tango that has just begun.

You feel like
A stale yet warm yet ugly yet comforting embrace
I wrap around you just to seep in every inch
Of what only you could offer.

You feel like
The last beginning of the endgame
The enshrouding entrance of what is to come
The naked piece of the puzzle
I have yet to grasp fully

You feel like
Bitter goodbyes
Unfiltered eyes
And crimson skies.
what a depressive episode feels like.
Apr 2020 · 271
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
His face in my view
Brings butterflies fluttering
Then—one steps forward

His wits, prominent
Opening it as he speaks
"Drown me too," I beg

His voice so raspy
Floating on blue ocean deep
Waves all come in threes

His hands, warm and safe
Clasp mine like a safe haven
Hold me in all fours

His smell addicting
My perfume to keep me sane
Five spritz on my wrists

His neck welcoming
A feast for this hungry beast
My dinner at six

His obsidian eyes
Hold the universe in them
Seven light years close

His mouth on my own
Tastes just like **** fine liquor
Burns as hand strikes eight

His comfort's embrace
Brings this cold corpse back to life
Nine lives' revival

His own sacred prayer
Is his name incarnated
On my knees at ten
Day 16 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Hello! I've been MIA on this site for a couple of days since I really got busy and unmotivated from writing but! I figured out that this is the only thing keeping me sane during the quarantine---why should I stop? So, I'm back!
Apr 2020 · 194
I'd Rather Burn
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
I came to hate the cold
When I noticed that I couldn't get a hold
Of my freezing hands when they were naked and bold
In an air-conditioned bus, as one of my friends told

And I would always seek out the heat
Of his palms on my fingers when they meet
At least they keep these delicate limbs, so petite
From numbing when the chill kiss them oh so sweet

I also came to like the warmness
Of people when they hug me in genuine love and kindness
And I would keep seeking that kind of fondness
As frost surrounds me with little to no softness

Oh, how I remember the warmth of cuddling
During wet and shivery downpour in the evening
Hugging and fondling under the thick, weighted bedding
How comfortable, unlike sleep to the freezing

But then, maybe the coldness I feel
From my hand to my feet's heel
Is a reflection of the atrociousness I conceal
Just to go with this ludicrous ordeal

My soul is just too bitter, just like how I hate
The unfortunate temperature of my fate
Yet fervor is the wish of this vicious slate
Before the chessboard declares its losing checkmate

Unfortunately, things must come to an end
There's no point to try to make this encounter bend
Because it will all just be like play-pretend
Of not acknowledging the conclusion of this descend

I came to hate the cold
And when judgment day comes, with my sins uncontrolled
I'd rather burn in the pits of hell in tenfold
Than to freeze in Dante's 9th circle's stranglehold.
Day 15 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. I started this one I think yesterday? But I was so dazed from recent relapses that I didn't know how the flow would go. I only finished it today, with a proper-ish transition, this time. Long read, I know, but then the story unravels itself from the length. Enjoy! (And yes I have this condition where I can't maintain my body temperature as well as normal people do.)
Apr 2020 · 219
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
You and I; we are both formidable
But then, like the thin line between its two definitions
We both live in each other's opposition

You always had this grace—this delicateness and feebleness
That kind that would make anyone protect you with their lives
Not to mention the talent you were blessed at birth
The way notes would dance in accord with your fingers—how formidable

My sight would always give people chills down their spines
That kind that would make you either fight or flight
With the cold demeanor I was cursed upon birth
Like how I would twist the words from my mouth.

You were everything the world wanted—only more, nothing less
Can you see how their eyes would spark upon your descant?
You were a living, walking goddess upon mortals
And you were the kind of formidable one would stare in awe.

I was nothing the world wanted—nothing more, only less
In how I would see the hatred in their lids at the mention of my name
I was the epitome of Lucifer incarnate, disrupting serendipity
And I was the kind of formidable everyone would want to be gone.

Yes, we are both formidable
You elegantly, I grotesquely
And the thought of us, meeting even just once
Will only be this pitiful mind's apparition.
Day 14 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. I just had this prompt based on Stromae's song "Formidable" and then started writing this, then finished in 10 minutes. I don't often write free verse, but here it is! I know, this is far from what I would usually write, but this was really a spontaneous one!
Apr 2020 · 236
This Frail Lover's Lullaby
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
I remember the creases of your lips and tongue back then
So I write this love song with my paper and pen
(And now I'm back at it again)

During one hazy road trip, that one night way past ten
Even though I don't remember where or when
I remember the creases of your lips and tongue back then

When I close my eyes, I see you walking ahead
With your open hands inviting mine as you led
So I write this love song with my paper and pen

Your presence felt like that of a thousand men
When I feel safe in your arms when my tears have been shed
(And now I’m back at it again)

Even when you leave the words "I love you" unsaid
I feel it when you **** me thoroughly in bed
I remember the creases of your lips and tongue back then

You kiss your fist before it meets my cheek in counts of ten
Where flowers would bloom in violet blue and red
So I write this love song with my paper and pen

There were nights I'd pray to god as I said
"Please, let him be the last one, amen"
(And now I’m back at it again)

I close my eyes; I see you walking away as you fled
Mouthing me words that made my world drop dead
I remember the creases of your lips and tongue back then

I open my eyes; I cried and teared and pled
But you didn't look back even with my legs spread
So I write this love song with my paper and pen

Tried forgetting you but I loved you more instead
I thought I'm already done making you stay inside my head
—(And now I’m back at it again)
Day 12 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. It's been two days since I wrote something. I've been having relapses, but I finally wrote something. It's crazy how you can feel like you're being so accomplished and productive in your manic episodes and then feel like drowning and dying, not skipping a beat when you're having a depressive one. And this piece is a reflection of my past---as one of my friends said. It's me, pouring it off my chest.
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Secrets of Wysteria flow in the vessels of my brain
And so I do not hear, nor comprehend the calling of my thought’s train
Vowing to never be held again in constrain
Eradicating the rotten fingers pointing to my disdain

Muses of bruises, callouses, and roses
Excuses the clueless, hung in ruin’s nooses

Flagitious tongue sharpens itself with sprawling centipedes
Rusted teeth from perilous mandibles bleed as it feeds
On the oozing, ****** veins of the wicked ****** as it pleads
Maybe these are too much for one’s avaricious needs?

Mindful, careful, piercing the syringe of refrain on plump flesh
Yeuking as the substance flows on blood so raw and fresh

Amid all, the past and future gather in Sheol’s pavilion
But missing is the presence of present in emblazing vermillion
Yet fleetly missed as the siren descanted her composition
Somber statues of ivory pretense witness with volition
Saints and snakes tear each other’s throats in a languish cotillion.
Day 9 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. No prompt for today, but I tried making a certain type of poem---acrostic poems. These spell out phrases or words with the first letter of each line of the piece. Enjoy reading!
Apr 2020 · 340
Lilith's Lament
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Within the promise land of calm and sound
Pearls found harbor on coarse, finite-like sand
Now whitened by the faces of the drowned
****** by the berserk billows as they stand

Willows frown upon the unjust waters
Whose surface's frozen in a dreamlike blur
Cradling ghostly hollows like coy daughters
In tender whispers as always, they were

And the world bowed down its head in silence
As Lilith raised the rose of thorns in hand
"My children hearsed in tombs of violence;
my children to be salvaged!" she demand

But nevermind the promised neverland
—No one ripens from their so-called homeland
Day 8 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Followed the site's prompt this time—borrowing a line from the Twitter bots. "Whitened by the faces of the drowned" is from @sylviaplathbot on Twitter, a line from her poem "Finisterre".
Apr 2020 · 271
Midnight's Villanesque
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Embracing the symphonies of midnight
Carefully sewn in between silence's guise
As salvation from this perilous plight

Shallow breaths as they clasp their bent knees tight
Crass caprices brim their minds in surmise
Embracing the symphonies of midnight

Ardent baton flicks to get them just right
Quietude, serenity—ode in reprise
As salvation from this perilous plight

Tinkering bells escorted by dim light
Yet shrill shrieking with menacing disguise
Embracing the symphonies of midnight

Soft, steady beats aloud, to hear I might
Lone martyr forgives in between my thighs
As salvation from this perilous plight

In low weeps, choruses of tears recite
Here I stand, dawning upon raven skies
Embracing the symphonies of midnight
As salvation from this perilous plight
Day 7 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Been practicing fixed verse forms and today's a villanelle. Prompt is writing a poem with three things you hear at midnight.
Apr 2020 · 840
A Wanderess' Sonnet
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Crisp summer breeze tickle wreaths of May blooms
Yellow flats traipse blocks where blue ocean looms
Serene waves greet shore's walls in fervent kiss
Moon's afterglow brush the scene in pure bliss

Fine sand witness time like dateless heirlooms
Brine's musk basks nightfall in coastal perfumes
Woven foams' calm poise in fond reminisce
With each cycle's ending, they go amiss

Red heels graze concrete in sultry whispers
As the salt-rimmed glass plays in my fingers
Gotcha!—my hapless victim for tonight

Caught my breath, it only faintly lingers
In front I stand, a door with four ciphers
"Aphrodite, save me" begins the plight
Day 6 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Wrote a sonnet again for the first time in years. Pleased with how it turned out.
Apr 2020 · 319
Dahlia Alley
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Dried-out sweat, tired-out eyes
Placards coated in reds and blacks
Hair strands wet, vermillion skies
Whiteout sneakers underneath slacks

Chipping bricks adorned with dusk's glow
Soft thuds drown in bustling sidewalks
Concrete walls enrobed in guised woes
Like calls of Cincinnati clocks

Down the path's lead, an alley lies
Only known by a few handful
An easy shortcut for the wise
A definite route for the fool

Empty blocks pampered in ruins
Grow dahlia shrubs in feeble soil
Yet cherished by passing humans
As they perceive in gleeful toil

Click, clack. Tip, tap.
Echoing the narrow pathway
Click, clack. Tip, tap. Click, clack. Tip, tap.
Reverberating the walkway

Gush of summer coldness trickles
Playing with thin skin's hair to stand
Along evening's hazy drizzles
Until lips' beam's closed by a hand

Frozen. Motionless. Absolute.
Pulsating ears, vibrating fears
I, the troubled, straightaway mute
Searching for comfort in fresh tears

Frigid, sharp blade graze flesh through clothes
Algid, rough palms tightened their grip
With trembling mouth, whimpers in lows
Time's ticking, closer to the tip

"How dare you go against!?" he yells
His voice falling on deaf pavements
Alike encaging prison cells
Beneath wretched, worn-out basements

Writhed free from his desperate hold
Unclasped myself, away I go
Yet burly hands grab my shirt's fold
On my side, planting the grand blow

The night weakens, the knife deepens
Meeting downcast eyes as I stare
Remorseless, the demon wakens
No plans—this petty soul—to spare

Deafening shrieks still ring my ears
The masses' cries of unjustness
Voices crystal clear amid tears
Demur of headstrong robustness

Earlier's protest fresh in mind
Echoing as I reminisced
Realized the shrills' suit unfeigned
Are screams from my own throat's abyss

Away from the hustling streetscape
For anyone to hear my plea
In desperate crawls to escape
He lifts the wood in counts of three

Bashed head meet placards to shatter
Jagged splinters abrade my face
Entwined with rain's pitter-patter
To finish me off, just in case

Each and every breath nears to none
Boulevard of dreams come broken
The mist douse this limp body done
I take my last, eyes wide open

Dried-out life, tired-out cries
Pebbles coated in reds and blacks
****** palms rife, obsidian skies
Lone witnessed—mum dahlias on cracks.
Day 5 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. This woke me up all night, and definitely not regretting. Yes, I love dahlias.
Apr 2020 · 1.9k
Breathe Me In
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
it was irresistible
with you, unmistakable
saying "come in".

only touched myself
with the idea of freeing you
from your encompassing nightwear
—my red lipstick's affair

not even a feet away from your front door
grasped my wrists and dragged my needy body close
and touching, fumbling with my burning core
without hesitation—lips crashed and clasped in yours

greedy intent pulled me deep in
slick, silky, sweaty, **** kisses
erase the innocence of my tongue
make me pray mantras as mewls become sultry hisses

your name on my mouth, your mouth on my name
a pleasurable orchestral masterpiece in the night
dainty fingers down south, flicking flame
bodies intertwined, bathed in candlelight

push, pull, push... pull...
pushing and pulling and tossing and turning and moving in and out and in and out in a never-ending dance your fingers make
until you suddenly

frantically tried finding your lustful eyes staring right back
only to find you looking down the feast—thighs blossomed open wide
i, the devotee offering to your altar
and my god, you devou—

lick and ****—play and prowl—drink and slurp
voice cracking, sweat trickling
gasping for air, taking your musk hard... breathe in...
breathing you in... so deep...

faster, and faster, grasping your hair for hold
melting and burning and igniting for each and every stroke
and i don't regret coming with you
coming for you..... coming in you.... until it comes... we come... come... co—

crashing down, shaking, crying hard from waves of euphoria—panting, breathless, lustfulness
with the stained bed only becoming more crumpled
when hot puffs of your breath trickled my rose-flushed ear
your voice telling—"this isn't yet the finale you've been waiting for."
Day 4 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Tried writing an ****** poem for the first time. It was fun doing so.
Apr 2020 · 258
First Taste
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Liquor bottles and rapt promises
All sometimes mean the same thing for me
At first glance, they seem a little bit too much
To be handled by a mere, innocent minor like me

They say I'm too young to take or drink them
They say only adults can get a taste of them
But of course, I let my curiosity get the best of me
And here I am, sneaking some from the shelf.

Bitter. I unconsciously rejected it
For it was too bitter for me to handle
Manifesto too new, flavour too foul
Sensation incomprehensible, what's yet to come?

I finished half. Half of the bottle.
Internalized half of the emotions thrown
Embedded in between those highfalutin speeches
And I'm only waiting for what's next.

Warmth. It's warm, it's creeping in
Am I letting myself be thawed by their voice?
Or maybe it's just the liquid speaking
As it glides down from my mouth to my throat?

Euphoria. I feel nice. For the first time.
Taking more gulps doesn't feel a bit wrong.
Being succumbed to their words doesn't feel wrong.
It only feels all the more alright.

Tepid. Loaded. Giddy. Fine.
All these are happening all at once
I've been searching for this feeling all my life

I only bought a bottle to try
Only sought a promise to swallow
Is one not enough for my troubled soul?
Is this how much I craved to feel fine?

No matter how many bottles we gulp
No matter how wholeheartedly we trust
When the ethereal high runs out in a bittersweet haze
It's time to clean them all up.

For the empty liquor bottles and empty rapt promises
Will only leave you reeking with its pungent smell
Along with trailing tears on your cheeks
And another throbbing head the next day.
Day 3 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Funny because the prompt of this one was created months ago---but I only actually wrote it today. Well, I write too many pieces about intoxication.
Apr 2020 · 202
Silent Prayers
Agatha Prideaux Apr 2020
Frozen hands yearning burning touch
Meet rusted strings for plea
At the dusted and forgotten wood they clutch
Silent prayers from the mouth flee

Build callouses, break promises
From every chord brushing thy fingers
From lips that would sing choruses
As the echo of one's soul lingers

As the evensong fill the room's deafening void
Much like the ringing of one's ear
Meet the tranquilness and calm you avoid
Letting your heartbeat be heard loud and clear

The quiet audience rest their heads
Down gentle pillows which only heard so much
And in between carefully sewn threads
Slumber dried out tears and such

In the iris-hued dark
Thou pupils seem to blend in
Not leaving a trace or a mark
Even as they see thy bare skin

Vespers audibly mistaken and imperfect
Form melodious lullabies for the ******
As we embrace wholeheartedly the wholesome defect
As the syncing flaws are together crammed

Fear not the cold and shaking limbs
Nor the purple, wet lips that swore
Especially the broken cries as your mind's hymns
For these silent prayers are indeed the heart's uproar.
Day 2 of #NaPoWriMo 2020. Lotsa references. But this was fun.
Agatha Prideaux Mar 2020
Pwede ba, na sa bawat pag-gising
At bawat pagtibok ng puso habang pumapasok
Ang sinag ng araw sa aking bintana
Ay makakalimutan ka na?

Dala na ang kamao **** tila nakabalot
Sa aking pinunong dibdib
Na niyurakan at kumikirot dahil sa iyong
Mahigpit na hawak sa akin, pwede ba?

Sana nama'y makaligtaan na ang tono, huni, at nilalahad
Ng mga kantang noo'y sinasabayan pa ng ating
Mga tawa, padyak, hiyaw, galaw
Balang araw, sana nga.

Maaari bang itapon na ang papel na naglalaman
Ng mga nais ko sanang ipahayag sayo noon
Kasabay na ang mga kasinungalingang binulyaw mo sa akin gamit ang mga letrang padala mo
Ako'y pagod na.

Pagod nang magparamdam, makiramdam
Makaramdam ng purong pagdamdam
Na alam kong kailan ma'y hindi mo na mararamdaman
Tama na.

Kung maaaring mawalay na
Sa pagkapit sa mga matatamis na salitang
Ibinulong mo sa akin habang inaambunan tayo
Ng sinag ng buwan sa gabing kay liwanag.

Sana'y matuyo na ang mga nasayang na luha
Noong sinabi ko sayo na ika'y aking minamahal
Na kung saan binalik mo sa akin nang mas malutong, mas mabulaklak
Pero putangina, puro lang pala dada at walang kahulugan!

At noong dinagdagan mo pa ng mga pangakong
Pagmamahalan at pagsusuyuan sa ating unang pagkikita
Ay halos sumalangit ako sa tuwa at galak
Pero sa init at pait ng impyerno mo pala ako binagsak.

Gusto sana kitang tanungin
Kung naaalala mo pa ba lahat ng ating mga talumpati
Kung papaano natin nahanap ang ginhawa at katiwasayan
Sa mata ng isa't isa, oh aking minimithi.

Sinubukan kong uminom ng kung anu-anong likor
Na sa sobrang dami ay halos napuntahan ko na siguro
Lahat ng barikan na aking nalalaman
Para lang maialis ka sa isipang ikaw lang ang nilalaman.

Subalit, imbes na ika'y maglaho sa kuro
Ay mas naalala ka sa mga malulungkot na gabing
Nangangamoy alak at naglalasang halik mo
Tulad noong unang gabing hinagkan mo ang nag-iinit kong noo.

Ngayon, ika'y masaya na at kuntento
Sa piling ng taong sinabi mo sa akin na huwag alalahanin
Hindi mo lang alam kung paano ko pinilit ang aking sarili
Na tanggapin lahat ng iyong isinaksak at binaril sa puso kong siil

Tila tintang nakamansta sa puting palamuti
Na di maalis-alis kahit gaano ko man kuskusin
Ang memoryang nakalaan para sayo sa aking isipan at damdamin
Kay hirap nang hubarin at tanggalin

Siguro ako'y itinuring lamang na isang kagamitang
Pwedeng itapon matapos pagdiskitahan ng mapaglarong tadhana
Na noo'y pinaniwalaan at naging pamanhik ko
Sa sandaling itinahi na ang pangalan mo sa nagdurugo kong puso

Pero, sa huli, kinailangang limutin
At iparaya ang damdaming nakakulong parin
Hanggang ngayon sa yakap ng iyong bisig
At himbing ng mga talang tila patalim sa gitna ng dilim

Sana'y natuto na ang sariling pag-iisip
Na hinding-hindi magpalinlang sa mga matatamis na awit
Na pinuputak ng bibig na ang may ari ay
Walang espasyo sa kanyang isip at puso para sa akin.

Aking nawalay na sinta
Maaari bang ika'y pakawalan na?
Para sa atin—o baka sa aking kalayaan at kasiyahan nalang
Pwede ba, kakalimutan na kita?
Day 1 of #NaPoWriMo2020. As of now, I'm not yet following the prompts. But here's an entry nonetheless.
Jul 2019 · 221
Agatha Prideaux Jul 2019
Hey, you! Yes, the one who's reading this piece
You found that first line attractive, didn't you?
If not, wouldn't you have already withdrew?
Nonetheless, please keep up with my caprice

Are you perhaps interested in this?
How the words bleed out of someone's dull mind?
Or how they are delicately designed?
How delightful, what an elegant bliss!

Do someone or something interest thee?
A passion, a hobby, or a lover?
Or a secret waiting to uncover?
Let me unfold each one and set them free

Did you ever wish to read people's thoughts?
What they think or how they feel about you?
Do they look at you the same way you do?
Maybe tying unintentional knots?

Let me guess, you envy this person, right?
Despite telling yourself that you're enough?
Acting tough and yet your head's filled with bluffs
Am I wrong? I hit the nail this time, right?

Wait, maybe you're interested on how
This poem will eventually conclude, no?
But hey, the more you see, the less you know
Maybe it's better if you cease right now

Hey, why are you still reading? I said stop
Still interested on how things will go?
Hey, tell me, are you still up for the show?
Well then, be succumbed in the thoughts I'll drop

Are you interested with the writer?
Yes, with me, you didn't read that wrong, sweetie
The way I'll play with your mind, how pretty
Careful, don't let your interest wither

Hey, actually I'm now interested
With your thoughts and if you want to do things
With the consequences of binding strings
Let's take risks, with nothing prohibited

Meet me, dear, at the back of the building
Let's play hide and seek under shady trees
Catch my lips with thy kiss in the cold breeze
And let ourselves burn, our morals wilting

With all said, let me tell you this, honey
I'm willing to keep you interested
Abandon all your dignity, honey
And I'll surely keep you interested
Pentameter with an abba rhyming scheme. Talks about how our insecurities get the best of us. This poem slowly consumes the reader to the own writer's agony.
Agatha Prideaux May 2019
At the far moor past our own sight
With tousled hair against wind's gush
Dazzled by the moon of the night
Quiet, my love, keep yourself hushed

When moments last forevermore
Together under dawn's sweet blush
When your eyes pierced through mine, you swore
Hurry, darling, we need to rush

Black waters surround our pained souls
Seeking comfort as our hearts brush
Switch roles as the camera rolls
Quiet, my love, keep yourself hushed

A rose's stalk buried in her chest
Bleeding red in slow, steady flush
And with her sanity undressed
Hurry, darling, we need to rush

Bare foot sinking down the green bay
With shards of glass, shattered and crushed
Take thy hand and go run away
Quiet, my love, keep yourself hushed

A meadow where despair fosters
A safe place for the foolish lush
A betrayal, how improper
Hurry, darling, we need to rush

Greed succeeds, so does treachery
And so it begins, jeopardy
Hurry, darling, we need to rush
Quiet, my love, keep yourself hushed
When the mind bleeds with negativity, let it pour on paper and create something beautifully deranged instead.

— The End —