Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Slur pee Sep 2017
She’s wedged inside a cobwebbed corner,
Call the coroner; she can’t move her skeleton.
Her skin hangs over her bones like a curtain, all delicate-
Begging to be opened; Stripped from blackness when the sunlight hits
But her throat tightens on the rays and she starts to choke on it.
Swallowing her spit, esophagus clawing at the bullet.
Burning raw, crawling down her maw she locks her jaw to load her stomach.
Angels fire shots down from their caving in heaven, praying they hit.
Her skin begins perspiring, inspiring the seed the devil planted to split its sheathe
And birth the demon that she had always conceived.
Heavy hearts heave, lungs clog as they breathe;
On her face creeps a smile as she sighs peacefully,
When she feels Death’s grip slowly tightening.

-SLuR
Slur pee Sep 2017
Life’s quite the show,
Got me bubble blowing and hunting rainbows;
Getting high before I explode, so I can fall lower than my woes.
Making your colors fade when I get too close,
No glittering gold exposed in exchange for my hopes.
Just something small I crave to hold
But it pushes and crawls between finger bones.
While creases scold, my visage imprinting an image of a kid who was told
Not to make funny faces but he kept it that way and it froze-
In place, I waste time watching the bell, counting its tolls
Codename: Quasimodo.
Give me a weight heavier than the world
And I’ll sling it over my hunched back, like a hermit crab gone mad and make it a home;
A proper abode to learn how to grow mold, perfect my smoke Os,
And scrape the cancer from between my toes.

-SLuR
Slur pee Sep 2017
In you I can taste addiction, bitter
Like the ashy ghosts of my cigarettes
Or the phantom pain of my needle ******.
So much so that our bones share the same skin;
All the raised flesh, every shiver, every itch.
When our fingers start to twitch towards it
Like a pup crawling back to its *****.
Your taste wasted in my putrid spit, so
When our mouths cough up identical twins
I’ll be savoring the flavor of theft,
A kleptomaniac hiding smiles behind a cleft lip-
Raised like an emblazoned cross for our shared sins;
I’ll nail you across my teeth if you rot away, with my cavities
And leave me the three words I never thought you heard.
(“Remember to floss”) Can’t you tell that I’m lost?
Tripping over my own feet, ignoring gravity
I just wish I could sink into the gaping holes I’ve carved in my mouth,
To bury my thoughts when they try to push themselves out.
My tongue traces the words that spew from your throat
Confessing all I'll be is all that I loathe.

-SLuR
Slur pee Sep 2017
The unequivocal sorcerer of slaughter,
I touched the altar and altered my saucer.
Also, I'm flying off the couch like a mortar;
Hoarding powder for that elusive boarder.
I'm bombarding the forest with sawdust,
Open up the squealer and I'll absorb ya.
Kirby the paupers, never mind impostors
From monsters to varmints via carnage;
I'm taking hostages from a cockpit locked in orbit
While you're too busy getting lost on shortcuts
Through the forest, like some forgotten tortoise.
I dream of beanstalks taller than the tallest,
All chopped up as fodder for my fortress;
I'll Trojan horse your forces as a florist
Then harvest your gardens with ordnance.
Ready the warships with torches-
It's turnips versus turrets,
And my furnace is fuming for your service;
No need to be nervous, I'm steady like a surgeon
And concern's always been for the toucans.
My archers carry shotguns for the turbulence,
Your thoughts hang like moss against a blank canvass
While mine climbs like vines towards madness;
I'll finish this with a sickle
And end up myth of the labyrinth.

-SLuR
Slur pee Sep 2017
O Disgust is warped, I am alone beneath its evil.

-SLuR
Slur pee Sep 2017
I got bars; they rattle inside my empty brain
I got pain; it’s shaped like the things that make it fade
I got hate; lain by the hands of the guy hiding inside my face
I got erased; from every place I safely encased betwixt my rib’s cage
I got rage; fighting against the machine operating the man
I got plans; to say “I got plans” but they’re empty promises
I got remitted; from whatever it was that god had written
I got smitten; with a boy who makes my vices start itchin’


I got to scratching and I don’t like what I’m sniffin’

-SLuR
Next page