Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Simon 3d
Blood isn’t just binary. It’s conclusive. Full of nonsense that isn’t discernible by judgment itself. It’s conclusive because it matters. Rather then being a binary code full of testaments replacing information over something absorbed prior. Fluid control. Over a fluid encompassing passage. Passage through dark crevices it creeps. Creeping into the darkest of depths. While making the most sense. Sense without equal. Forms becoming taught from within, rather then being instructed on the surface. Structures within aren’t binary by instructed purposes alone. As being taught isn’t something left out in the dark, when it’s also able to learn in the light. Surfaces aren’t shifting. There migrating to better circumstances. One in the same. Correction has no values if one or the other isn’t what it always seems, when taking a closer look. Up close in its details, reveals it all. How much is one willing to see? Waiting for the views to be answered. Speculating isn’t contrary by any default. Viewing isn’t just a construct of pressed desires either. Simply a common observation. In that observation, blood carries all sorts of knowledge already in it’s grasp. Pinpointing the construct with pressed desires. No. It’s flowing any aspect in a system engineered by the steady constants all around itself. Different forms generating different instances of strife. While strife isn’t labeled by much, until something made further observations. The views are just consequential. Random instances in a random binary function. Detesting anyone’s views when carrying on without an interpretation involved. It’s consequential, by being its own aspect. Its own thing. Processing its own flow. Circulating its own properties. Wills and wants. Covering every crevice of the system. You are labeled by what…? Views? Observations? Interpretations? Shifty desires aren’t always what they seem when it’s covering every knowledge base in the machine. We walk in the embedded actions were instructed by. Shifting one moment without concern. Migrating the next, with stride and interest. Blood is the secret of knowledge because it’s covering the entire system, we breath. Feeling the information of the nerves hum the binary code better in circulation. Warming the blood with all it’s might! Blitzing past its flow of tightly fit closure. Information in the sense of blood cells. Nerve cells is another passage of rich knowledge. Blood is the secret focus that fissures in-between nerve cells generating basic structures on the surface. Instructed to be wild. Blood isn’t just focus. It’s taught to bind itself through the systems thinking they don’t require its binary frequencies. Frequencies polishes the hum of processes into delightful instructing. Body feels it. Other flowing systems sense it. Does viewing it understand it? Does observing wrap everything up into one bundle? Or does interpretation dissolve all visuals into one encompassing tale? About (how it should work?) Before realizing ones, interpretations are held beneficial by views and observations. Detested by one who is viewing it by interpretation. Interpretation is wrong! Deeeeaaaadddd wrong! Interpretations on the surface. It’s to bad. Why don’t you try focusing from within? Might learn something more visually speaking then what interpretation wants with all its desires combined. When you figure that out. Your being instructed by the secret knowledge of bloods binary access itself.
Blood is sometimes discountable in relations of how dense it's properties can consume. Flowing through the nourishment of our body’s natural claims. And for what...? It just being there, as we do our own steady bidding?
One more time, one more time.
I’ll just do this one more time.
One last time and I’ll be fine.
I’ll just do this one more time.

One more time, one more time,
The crimson red is such a beautiful sight.
One more time and I’ll be fine.
Let me just do this one more time.

One more time, one more time.
The silvery gleam greets me once again.
One last time, I’ll be fine.
I’ll just do this one more time.

One more time, one more time,
Fresh roses are piling around me.
Is that you? Cruel angel of the world?

Take me away, one last time.
Another poem about self harm, I never seem to run out of those. It's a bit more compact this time, I hope you enjoy.
deeply sorry,
i am that
i can’t bleed
a little bit more...
i’m sad ****
Skyla 6d
I found someone new
Who will keep me safe, keep me warm
He won’t search for more, he won’t break my heart

I am enough, one girl to hold tight
He won’t draw blood, or terrify me in the night
He won’t give me a fright, he’ll shine even more bright,
And I am enough to keep him satisfied (this time)

My old ghost lover went through girls like shoes
They quickly get old, so he finds someone new
I managed to last 3 short, summer months
He made me believe, our love was built on trust
He worshiped the moon, I called him the sun
I should’ve listened when they all told me to “run”
Run, run far away, as fast as you can
So he can’t catch you, the blood-obsessed man
He tried to take my heart, and **** out the life
And swore to me that one day I’d be his wife

He didn’t love me for me, just like the others
He was looking for someone to care, like a sympathetic mother
One to guilt trip, manipulate, cry on, and harm
Planting shameful seeds, burying me with the weeds, on his vast farm

He howled like a wolf, to the silver-lined crescent
He caught a glimpse of a gullible girl, saw me as iridescent
He sliced up his hand, to make blood pact
And threatened to jump off a cliff, for his grand finale act  
A blood oath, blood wife, romantic blood bath
Strangling me with his love, I can feel the hatred and wrath

He loves to choke, to suffocate, to squeeze
Just for the thrill of it, and begs on his knees
Wraps his hands around my neck, disturbingly tight
Tells me I can never leave, or run in the dead of night
The goddess of love, had cast her ****** spell
And the only way out is to walk with him to hell

I found someone new, he’s an angel of light
The epitome of peace, he refuses to fight
He doesn’t hurt himself, and he doesn’t make me sad
He feels all kinds of right, he doesn’t feel bad

I love him, I love him, this fresh love blossoms anew
And I honestly thought that you loved me too
But you don’t, and I no longer, I have grown stronger,
Because he doesn’t play choking games, or the victim card, he doesn’t try to win my fame or rip out my whole heart.

I’m sorry love, this ended very tragic
I am not your goddess, with a touch of magic
Set me free, from my cage, like a bird
You listen to my poetry, so I hope you hear this final word.
lua Oct 5
i feel their eyes on me as i walk along the street
their mouths hung agape, panting like dogs
like a wild pack of wolves
hungry
ready to pounce
ready to strike
ready to ****
i lower my head in fear
my heartbeat quickens as it sinks to my stomach
i walk and i walk and i walk
i run and i run and i run
and when i turn my head over my shoulder
i don't see them behind me
but i watch them from afar
each howl and snarl that slither through the cracks and gaps between jagged teeth
their blood stained paws move to the side
and i see it
i see it
i see it!
it was another wolf!
but it had collapsed
and when i turned my head to the side
all i saw was teeth marks
and red
red
red.
it was a traitor
Rebeca Sep 29
You're holding my heart
With your delicate hands and
long fingers
And you caress it with tenderness
and care.
You hold it like it's the most valuable treasure in the world.


But then you start squeezing it
and
crushing it
and
squashing it
'Till it bleeds out and all that is left
Are a few shards scattered into the dark
of the void night
Poetic T Sep 28
They think, that I'm like
   a disowned  feline...

Throwing me out first floor
                    windows..

Do I land on my feet...…
               No I land on my ribs,

on my head, only scrapes..

But my ribs are broken like
             a chess board... one wrong move
and its check mate..

I'm dying where I lie...
             choking on the blood of my
             ******* world moves...


But I landed on my wrist...


They'll never catch my broken *******,

   broken slang.
      

But they knew what a hand held with another
                                                      meant..
a mangled ******* as I survived another day.


I came back like a bee looking to sting,
                     but the ones who fell out there nest


were stung by another not me..


I'll walk another day.. been stung a few times..
             but I learnt my lesson...


Don't mess with the nest unless you

                want to be in anaphylactic shock of


some random fools words

trying to prove,
                               some insecurity for an abandoned




father figure, that's compensated
by a bullet,
                          and a promise of we got your back.
Anastasia Sep 26
you have no idea
how badly
i want to watch my blood flow
into the water
how bad
i want to paint the ground red
how intensely
i am hurting right now
to where
i want rip off my skin
and watch the blood
run
im trying so hard not to do anything to myself.
maria Sep 26
I saw a dream
My teeth fell
A lot of blood in between
That's how unlucky I am
emotional pain,
even in my dreams

Written on September 26, 2019
Next page