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alexis hill  Dec 2015
Dreads
alexis hill Dec 2015
she dreads conversation
because her tongue is tied
the judgement is so harsh
and she is caught up in cries

she dreads the truth yet begs for
honesty
but honestly...
what a mess
she's depressed

tangled up in her own
reality
so easily drifting
throughout life aimlessly

as if she brushes off every
apology
since they never meant it
anyways

she dreads coming home
to an empty house
she speaks out loud
the walls echo in response

a frayed representation
for the people
who come
and those who go

the people who she
once held onto

she dreads the strands
that she must pull apart
they tear and they shred
threads which had made up
her heart

she dreads the
future tendrils
regrets past curls
till her waves are tied

she dreads
because she's knotted up
inside
Benji James May 2017
Have you ever felt so sick
That there's a churning in your stomach
That you just can't shake
Have you ever felt so broken
That you just can't sleep
Lost in confusion to how life brought you here
Have you ever felt so low
That you didn't think there was anywhere else to go
Have you ever been so angry
You can't control your rage
Ripping every photo in you picture frames
(Yeah) have you ever wondered why it is your heart breaks

Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you

Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent

Told you I bleed for my heart
Can't you tell from the scars
Engraved into my skin
Maybe I'm addicted to the pain
Maybe it doesn't feel right when life kicks me back in the face
Maybe I just can't go a day without making a mistake
Maybe I'm a lost cause
Maybe I have no faith
Maybe I've fallen from grace
Maybe I'm a disgrace
Maybe there is no hope for the hopeless
But I still give hope to those
That hang off of every word that I write
And it's lines and times like this that keep me alive (Yeah)

Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you

Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent

Maybe I'm drowning in sorrows
Maybe you have some love I could borrow
Maybe you could get me back on my feet
Should never have worn this heart on my sleeve
Maybe I shared too much
Maybe my kindness
got the best of me
Maybe I gave to much trust
Maybe I just lost the one
Maybe the battle was lost
Before it was ever won (Yeah)

Are you good at getting stuck in situations
Feel as though you have lost all communication
And you can't seem to navigate your way out of this dark place
You landed yourself in
Shouldn't have given everything so soon
And maybe then you wouldn't have lost you

Signals beyond detection
Lost in my own space
No stars or light to guide your way
You just met the monster under your bed
Gave into the voices inside of your head
This is the moment everybody dreads
So is this my hell
This is where I've been sent
This is the fall
This is the steep descent

©2017 Written By Benji James
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
of course i ******* every night,
otherwise i'd be wondering
about the next Laika in space
with some next soviet conspiracy
Sputnik hovering while i chance
abbreviate a change on hairstyling
thinking: jeez, this is a little bit too
afro frizzy for a brainstorm,
maybe i better opt for Jamaican dreads?
economics of shampoo usage,
suddenly a large bank account.
i do get the idea behind treating nouns
like albinos... bleach the *******
hang them to dry in Polaroids...
while commercial flights fly at a certain
height, and the rich buggers fly high enough
to jet-stream in the cirrus uncinus bracket...
and they lie to children,
they're talking about strange satellites...
i can't see satellites, not without Galileo's
excommunication apparatus,
satellites, as far as i am concerned
orbit the earth in a non-visible spectrum
of the vacuum... hence their orbiting outside
of the visible spectrum atmosphere of
the earth, i would not be able to see
a satellite for the love of Michaelangelo.
Julian Revà Apr 2018
There's a gap between what
I fear and what I think
to fear; there's a night, sure,
between those tiny things

Because to fear is to live,
as the leaf
in the burning forest
still breathing, fearing
not the death, but leaving the living

I do not fear the death
I just fear the night falling over
my sholder, my head; my integrity
what it means being me

I fear those things I'm not certain of
(as the rest of living things I think)
But scarier is to know
that we truely do not know
the certainty of all
the things we say we know

And of all those nocturnal dreads
there are a few that keep me awake
waiting for an answer that will never come
as the lost remembrance of an ancient love
as the farther forefather of a forgotten folk
as the man watching through my window
in a windy storm passing by the city

There's a lot of dreads at the midnight
that keep me awake thinking
about things that I should not
but I think all the condamned
are bound to write about nightmares
and imaginariums that does not belong to us
but yet, they're ours to transform

And maybe one day the dreads will go
far away from our city, as the storm
maybe one day we will burn as the leaf
and then we will stop fearing
what we do not really know
Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
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You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
Akira Chinen May 2016
The armless beastly dreads
Of fang and tooth and head
Whispering doubts and fears and hate
Dripping cold stale lies
Of how pathatic
Your heart bleeds
And your eyes dream
And that happiness
Is just a hollow hope
They drip and melt
Their misery to coat
Your soul with
Their venomous despair
These armless beastly dreads
Of fang and tooth and head
Have nothing but their tears
Having long lost all they held dear
Ghastly mists of fright
Hunting for souls lost at night
Hunger for hearts they find
Too beautiful for this world
They took Van Gogh
And left not a trace
Of their murderous deed
And the list of all
That they have taken
Is longer than the history of sorrow
Their most notorious crime
Their greatest parlor trick
Is that they are invisible to most
You will only know them
If they have claimed
Your heart and dreams and hopes
As their host
The armless beastly dreads
Of fang and tooth and head
Never try to trick me with a kiss
Pretending that the birds are here to stay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

A stone can masquerade where no heart is
And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

Our noble doctor claims the pain is his,
While stricken patients let him have his say;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis,
The old maid in the gable cries all day:
Never try to trick me with a kiss.

The suave eternal serpents promise bliss
To mortal children longing to be gay;
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;
The singing birds pack up and fly away;
So never try to trick me with a kiss:
The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.
kas k Aug 2012
Weaken by the breeze
he settles  like the grumbling of burning embers,
he dreads the color gray.
A freckle in the upper right of his earlobe,
he sighs so close to a cry, for minute in the ice of morning
he holds on to his ears,
to keep what he heard inside as if the
dying flutters of a butterfly.

Today he hides inside,
inside deep pockets rattling with the lost things he found,
faster and faster he walks across
the streets  as if it would get him closer
closer to himself, as if late for a bad day,
he goes no where but feels with each step the pain
in the soles of his feet.

The pain makes the day real,
the pain makes the day real


the steep hills mimic  the thought sky of his heart and how his
mind struggles not to fall backwards but to reach the top.

He never does but instead he spins burning in circles.
The day isn't real anymore,  he walks faster.

The pain  makes the day real
The pain  makes the day real
The pain  makes him real.


He dreads the gray, the color pervades today.
weaken by the breeze
he circles again returning to where he began
In his mind he counts the shavings of  wings
He fell back and his heart closed up the shop early.
In his mind the stone cease to be cast out, cease to ripple
yet the residual  still echo faintly, as his ears burn.

The pain makes the day real.
The pain makes the day real
The pain makes him real


Weaken by the breeze
he settles  like the grumbling of burning embers,
he dreads the color gray.
A freckle in the upper right of his earlobe,
he sighs so close to a cry, for minute in the ice of morning
he holds on to his ears,
to keep what he heard inside as if the
dying flutters of a butterfly.

Today he hides inside,
inside deep pockets rattling with the lost things he found,
faster and faster he walks across
the streets  as if it would get him closer
closer to himself, as if late for a bad day,
he goes no where but feels with each step the pain
in the soles of his feet.

The pain makes the day real,
the pain makes the day real


the steep hills mimic  the thought sky of his heart and how his
mind struggles not to fall backwards but to reach the top.

He never does but instead he spins burning in circles.
The day isn't real anymore,  he walks faster.

The pain  makes the day real
The pain  makes the day real
The pain  makes him real.


He dreads the gray, the color pervades today.
weaken by the breeze
he circles again returning to where he began
In his mind he counts the shavings of  wings
He fell back and his heart closed up the shop early.
In his mind the stone cease to be cast out, cease to ripple
yet the residual  still echo faintly, as his ears burn.

The pain makes the day real.
The real makes the day feel.
The pain makes the day real


The lost cry of a male butterfly..
LeV3e  Nov 2016
Dreads
LeV3e Nov 2016
You tie my gut in knots
Never expected this in my plot
Twisting my lochs with
Nervous fingers locking
Hands with you is magickal.

You tie my mind in knots
Its like a roller coaster lost
In space the comet's frost
Ignites a shower of colors
Cascading across your eyes...

You tie my heart in knots
I pray it doesn't clot my
Thoughts about our
Dreams about our
Kids about our
Means of getting by...
And I love having this in common with you.
Her skin was made of caramel
With purple highlights through her dreads
Hazel eyes that made me melt
And luscious lips of red

A girl I've never met
Yet we seemed so close
We laid down in bed
And began ripping off our clothes

I grabbed her wrists
As she went down to feast
My fantasy spun into a bliss
With her desire she needed to feed

Her fingertips brush my lips
She looked me in the eyes
This was the end of it
**Girl of my dreams, but this girl was mine
mark john junor Apr 2014
the tide of the days winds shifted
and the sunlight submerged returns
she lay in the pieces of sunshine
sculpture of dreads and beads
fine tuned erotica machine
with a heart of gold and trinkets of silver
she rests one arm across me
i savour its textures and its tastes on the mind
grains of sand along the line of her delicate form
i chase each one with fingertip
she smiles with wicked intents of her own
the sun melts us into eachother with sinful delights
i taste her on my very soul

later we sip wine in the shade with
cheese bread and meats
she rests her head on my shoulder
holding one of my hands in both of hers
playing with my fingers
and speaking to me with her caress
tells me of her love renewed with each heartbeat we share
i put on some music
a french girl who sings sweetly of her days as a child
and thinking of sweet paris
we sit and watch the beach struggle with the sea
we sit and watch the wandering people playing in the sun

her barely there bikini covered
with my van heusen suit shirt
we leave the beach to the gulls and turns
we leave the day to the evenings handiwork
strolling the garden path back to our house
carrying picnic basket and and things
i will make dinner and we will watch
the moonrise on the sea
sleep will give us tomorrow
to love one another again
david badgerow  Feb 2014
dreads
david badgerow Feb 2014
to the pretty girl with dreads whom i met stumbling down the strip last night around 1:30, i never asked your name.

you were drunker than i, which is an impressive feat. i followed you into a greasy dimly lit punk rock bar and we danced to 80's *** pop.

i remember i twirled you.

at last call you asked where i lived and then laughed when it wasn't within walking distance. you led me by the hand to your house.

descending the stairs into your basement room, you referred to yourself as a "cellar dweller" and we both laughed at that.

i met your dog and he liked me. you offered me a beer but took off your pants instead.

we had all kinds of anonymous *** for an hour and twenty three minutes and then i left without cuddling. you were already nearly asleep.

i left my wallet tangled in your sheets.

— The End —