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alexis Sep 2020
i remember the taste of metal in my mouth,
the warmth and the pain of
turning my fiery words
into mountains of ash
years of biting my tongue,
wanting to scream,
yet the smoke chokes my lungs
2 septembre 2020
8:33 pm
Xandaria Apr 2020
Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair
The way you bit on my shoulder
The way you hit my cheek
And left marks of yourself all over me
The way you flung money on my face
The way you kept ******* me
Even though I was asking, begging
For you to stop
The way you screamed,
"Work harder you *****!
I didn’t waste money for you to stop"
And the bruises you left
When I passed out?
Am the girl
From the Red Room of The ***** House.
Am the ****
Who is ***** everyday
But society says,
"NO. It's all for the easy money"
Am the gold-digger
Crying for people to stop.
Am the story
Of eighty million **** toys
Behind the Curtains less Doors of Pleasure for Men.
We aren’t **** stars.
We don't become famous for filming obscene videos.
We are just some toys
That men borrow
Like a rental car.
We are the colors
The society talks about in hushed voices
In the corner of a deserted street.
We are the discarded clothes
You never wore
Because they weren’t good enough.
We are the succubuses
Of every man's dream.
We are Pleasure
We die a bit everyday.
We have felt, seen and heard pain
MORE than any one of you here.
We are WOMEN.
But no one holds a candle lit march for us
When one of us is *****.
"It's all for the easy money"
Isn’t it?
We are the Strippers, the Prostitutes, the *****
Are the nightmares you never wish to have
do you remember me now?
Kelly Mar 2020
where to begin?
                                                     not this **** again
            the constant deliberation
                                                    ­                 your harsh beration

is that even a word?

I wouldn't know, you're not here to correct me

But I'll still prostrate myself before you
Never imply, never implore you
to swallow the pride I so eminently taste
on the tip on your tongue in the flames of your space

for I articulated immensely and pure,
I've no pride left -- I've already tried to say

                                   that I Miss You

In the olive branch of thought, or concern, or encouragement

The snicker on your lips at the edge of the cord
Has snapped in my face, in a favored exchange
You say I don't owe you
But maybe I do?
I couldn't tell you why

                                                       I'll still say I Miss You

Chuckle in my face
                                            say I'm looking too hard
when half passed a year, and I saw that you star-        -ted
to write in the place I hold dear to my heart
You played where you meant and you knew these parts

I would puzzle together would puzzle my head
to ensure that your seed had been planted and fed

And I hate the feeling you put in this trough
                             I'll lap at the puddle, still claim that is

All Love.

                        You forget that I know you
From that you can't hide
                         You forget that I know the shake in your voice
When you lie

                                                         Despite your uncanny ability still,
This hostility doesn't suit you
                                         Not that I think that I will
change that as of late.

I just wish you could swallow that burdened mind
The one with the Pride?
The one you never tried

                                                     to combat or control
because control is a need

I see that , I know that ,              so control what you please

But no more, not me
It's me.
It is me.

Can you not at all, remember it's me?

Not a burden
A binding
An obligation "back home"

No pressure
No lectures
Just a box of our notes.

The snipping aversion proceeding the kind
Doesn't look good on you,

I've reached and I've tried.

So I'll favor this favor, because my heart's cured --

         I'll tell you I Miss You
                                                          once more.

                                 this time try to
Be honest with me.
March 2020
Amanda Kay Burke May 2018
Spanking and biting
Tying me to the bedframe
You make pain pleasure
Sorry if this makes anyone uncomfortable haha
Stara Jan 2018
I have a short patience
for people who annoy me
by being too noisy
or being too boring

I try to listen
I try to be polite
but the more I nod and smile
the more I feen to bite

As I look at them
dead in the eye
acting like I care
inside I want to die

And I usually don't realize
right off the bat
as I ****** my fingers in
I forget where I'm at

All my focus is absorbed
by my nibbling need  
to every last nail  
I only stop to bleed

As I go at it
I only glance up for breath
But I never stop biting
For my nails are my ****

Only once they
leave me alone
I look around and
see what I've done

I raise my hand
to wave goodbye
but it gets caught
just below my eyes

and I open my mouth
to say something nice
words don't come out
I just bite on my vice
Joe Thompson Oct 2017
My mother dearly wanted  
to be Dorothy Parker.
She yearned for a taste of the power that comes
from a truly witty response.

She craved to deliver
A statement so powerful
and sardonic that it would terminate
all argument or discussion.

My proximity made me an easy target to practice on
as each of our arguments ended with a bon mot
delivered with the all the acerbic flourish of Bette Davis.

As I listened to her footsteps receding down the hallway
I had only to take one more breath
before the footsteps reversed direction
and - standing at the doorway to my room -
She would deliver another culminating witticism
turn, leave and repeat.

In the fifties and sixties an intelligent woman –
a single mother of three
with no high school diploma,
but a surfeit of imagination –
Savoured what little power she could find
even if it was a fiction, a delusion
or just a punchline sharp enough to draw blood.
Simone Sep 2017
sweet sweet seduction
tender kisses
and biting lips
you lift me up
I get lost in your eyes
your touches so soft
my heart is beating
I open up
you let me fall
my desire remains
hurting games
sweet sweet seduction
Light House Feb 2017
I am ..but a wolf:
My bite forever.
When you hear
Others back biting
Your friend
Listen , assured,you too
On the morrow
Will be a victim to the trend!
Amharic proverb back biting is a bad trend
Proxii May 2016
If my thoughts could be described as a Color,
Which one would You choose?
Do my eyes still search for You.
Do they peer Everlong from a field of Poppies?
Red like the color of this Stain on my Lips,
Forever the shade of Biting my Tongue.
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