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Anastasia Sep 1
acid
dripping
bodies
writhing
worms
crawling
in my lungs
bones
breaking
eyes
shaking
nails
scratching
my flesh
Invisible Aug 20
You wash out the bodies
Hang up on a line
Pin 'em up so very high
And wait for the blood to dry

Iron them out
Straight as can be
Rough, but smooth
Not a wrinkle, or crease

Grab your knife
And cut it up
See the results
They should be enough

Now, fold them up
And pack away
Lock the doors
To keep 'em safe
I swear I'm crazy. I just compared dead bodies to clothes. *shudder*
Cyan Aug 14
My first four metatarsals
Will be morsels for bacteria.
My marrow deep within
Periosteum
A feast for worms and blowflies.
Eyes and tongue will be a home
For maggots and other hordes.
And then maybe
My mind will be consumed
By something more than words
And worries.
M C Jul 28
O, shapeshifter reveal your truths which have no shape.

O, beast of all beasts: soaring swimming running hopping,
feathered furred scaled shrouded,
naked.
Claws reach for a submerged feast. Tail wriggling, caught by the sky.
Smooth skin hidden by design gracefully opens. Extending,
snatches a meal of bug mid-flight.
Muscle meeting by chance, tooth taking sustenance. Ragged breathe torn
from one body to be worn by the next.
Highly sophisticated eyes become a snack.
Division ceases.

O, reveler!
O, peace in chaos!
O, pleasant reminder of romp!
O, devourer of the devoid,
shaping reality by way of playful lovers!
M C Jul 28
Take me to the altar and do as you please.
Even on my knees
I can love you as the man I am.
If you alter my person plan to pay fees.
Blood lines down my back
each a token of luck.
The purpose of this poem
is ruckus and ****
but whenever I get close
I think of the people I've ****** up.
Pigs love to get stuck
in a sty and shuck
while cows graze any green pasture.
My past closes in faster
to the brim of sin.
I can't last as a pastor.
Casting my eyes while preaching some line.
It's my own downfall as I bind and entwine.
We are powerless to escape our nature in kind.
Pray to a fate blurred
then unearth what we find.
Jo Barber Jul 16
Bodies seeking bodies.
Flesh longing always,
always,
for more flesh.
Kisses and touches,
once so sweet,
feel empty now.
Keep looking.
Maybe you'll find
something you didn't expect.

Maybe you'll even find yourself.
Seanathon Jul 8
And then suddenly
With tremendous presence born
New territories
Open up to your old self
To be shared excitedly
Where Bodies Meet
They said
By their tongues
No, by their souls
They answered by hearts
The message shines
With the bright eyes
Threatens all bones

All castles were downed
All armies are sharp less
All fortress expose
To any attack or small force
No walls, weapons even soldiers

What makes their hearts tided?
What makes their eyes shined?
What makes their souls danced?
Above the earth, air and clouds
What makes their hearts pumped?
Only by their names and souls?
What makes the red color covered their checks?
As they were thrown by the strawberries

What makes their eyes opened?
Even they were tired or wish to sleep
And wanted to be opened all times
To fill its self with the smart face

What makes the birds danced?
What makes them sung at harmonies?
What makes the bloom gotten colors?
Attracting the eyes, dragging with happiness
Reflecting their wishes to live endless

Diving at happiness, sinking at honey
Asking every fly
To imitate their love as their way

The love of bodies has one end
Die
The love of souls stays without any end
eternity
they love each other, the souls get happy
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