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Zelda May 18
I walk through hallways
White lights, Marble floors,
And portraits on the walls
Of girls covered in moths
The contrast to their eyes
Resting on their lips like morning dew
Drawing up tears, as if nectar

I think through hallways
Many have stated that
A moth is drawn to a flame
But I recently learned
A moth is drawn to celestial lights
And though a flame can mimic celestial lights
It is not a celestial body

All the girls are celestial bodies
And all celestial bodies are covered in moths
Hunt a killer
What you think im scared
People in chains
I save
Torture no fingertips
If you think youre a killer
Im gonna call the mafia
An **** you 2
Im not scared
**** someone
Here i come
Ill bury you alive
You ain getaway with ****
Word on the street
I heard you pulled the trigger
Die slow on my watch
I protect my people
Society safe
Free from tyranny
Till the end of our days
Safety first
Ill hunt a killer an ****
48 Hours
brandychanning Nov 2023
the sol and solitude
scalpel~dissect layers of tissue,
marrows of nuclei separate,
the warming is discomforting

dismayed and dissuaded,
cannot be in two places,
either/or/or simultaneous,
my centerpiece is a-kilter

wavering and waving,
my balance is mis-weighted,
teetering and tottering, in a land
lightly and thickly discriminating

between bodies and disembodiment
I am neither
I am both,
I am invisible
to eyes that are shut by
obstructions of
Toyo Douglas Aug 2023
Shapes shifting through the sheets
of paper, in my dreams
soft pillow seams, we move like a gentle
firey breeze -
your shape consumes me.

I have never seen volcanoes, yet my
thoughts erupt in shapes.
What is it to desire a shape ?

A venetian spell of curved brushes to cheeks,
dreaming of the days and weeks I could
lay, still, yet volcanic, staring opposite your face, in embrace and tracing your skin with my finger.

Like a brush stroke,
my muse

what is it to loose the memory of a body?

Every trace and touch
each mahogany blush
within the rush of lust,
a cosmic trust between body to body
and mind, to the Hearts’ justice.

A sketch,
first love.
I cloak and glove the painting of you
moving through new shapes away from
view, yet sometimes with solemn and blue, sly Fate washes water-coloured visions and crimson hues through my mind and i’m reminded of each line, curve and shape.

Oh desire ! What a profound honour
to know a body beyond shape.
The beauty and natural art found in intimacy.
Nigdaw May 2023
they are in the grass
beneath my feet
their fear distilled
into the trees
where the leaves
dance as their banners
and flags once did
in the cool breeze
a river of red where
they bled their last breath
now flows clear
no winners or losers here
the lush green foliage
tells the story of how
it is fertilised
by the bodies of men
who lost their lives
centuries ago
I can still feel them
in the landscape
they have grown
Written after a visit to Battle in East Sussex.
Odd Odyssey Poet Sep 2021
Body ties, feeling myself tied to you;
likewise to connect to each other.
Dial on circumstance; you're ringing
in my head about how to press the issue.
Press on your right side; those familiar
buttons. I'll find myself lost in you

Celebrate the occasion; set flame to love,
Lit the fire's of desire, warmed the night.
Doing the best of things the world hasn't
seen. All the very things you and I like.

Pouring on a drink, taking shots of you;
its all leading me into the mood.
Leading the way of where we shall go;
You've often been high on your love,
right now this little vibe still on the low.

So let's celebrate what we have now;
until it becomes the world's favourite show.
hazem al jaber Jul 2021
Bodies and lips ...

come let's make again ...
this night ...
a sweet crazy love ...
all night ...
as we did ...
last night ...

will never get enough ...
from your lips ...
and it's wine ...
even your ******* ...
will eat them ...
by my mouth ...
until the sun rise ...
while i'm did not get ...
enough from you ...
will keep do ...
until you beg me ...
to give you a little more time ...
to get your relax ...
from my craziness ...

come babe ...
let's make love tonight ...

hazem al ...
Gabriel Jul 2021
Some bodies are made of worms,
soft, malleable, wet to the touch
with tears and a thin layer of grime,
built up over years of creaky limbs
oiled with their own disuse.

Some bodies are made of wasps,
and they are violent. The buzz
rings in the ears and they are the type
to throw drunken punches. Every
second is all that is.

Some bodies are made of earth,
in that they sustain others
and drain themselves. Global
warming will **** them off, but
for now, they shine.

Some bodies are made of other bodies,
like Frankenstein, like corpses
that aren’t quite done yet
with the worms and the wasps
and the ground that they clawed out of.
From a portfolio I wrote in third year of university, titled 'Infestation'.
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