Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Strange creatures stirring
Hiding them inside our skin
Bone and flesh prison
We all have demons inside us
Alienpoet Jul 27
I love you beyond the life I lead
beyond daydreams I had as a child
beyond this cage of bone
and the words I pray
I love you beyond

Beyond the earth which houses my body
Beyond the demons of desperation
Beyond belief and believing
beyond the sands of time
I love you beyond

Beyond hands which desire your touch
Beyond the music which sings out
Beyond my eyes which gaze
beyond all my doubts
I love you beyond

In the blackest hope I will find you
and I grasp your hand
Sit with you and make you understand
I love you beyond.
rig Jul 25
fool moon
morrow bane
bone marrow
mouthful
Gabriel Jul 18
Almost like clockwork,
the bone breaks. This time,
an arm, a warning
against the things that hands
can do. Cut it off not at the disease,
but at the root.

We hope, this time,
that we were quick enough
in the amputation.
That the disease has spread
no further than the floor
upon which the phantom limb jerks.

Last time, it was slow,
an infestation below the muscle
until the patient was screaming
for morphine. We had to cut
the lower leg first, but the thigh
was already prisoner.

The neuroscience department
has been working overtime
on all the brains we lobotomised
before removal. We’re thinking
that’s where it ruminates,
dormant, like a volcano.

The infection manifests
differently in everyone.
In some, it cries for attention,
and we cut the throat.
In others, it’s violence,
and it ends up killing itself.

There’s not much we know
and even less we can name.
When they brought my body
in, they called it loneliness,
and cut out my heart.
The wolves ate well that night.
From a portfolio I wrote in third year of university, titled 'Infestation'.
broad shouldered angel
with collar bones that could fly
your bones are haunting
Mark Wanless Jan 30
the dog ate some flesh
off my arm then killed the bear
okay i agree
Him
I am small like a child,
wet face pressed
against a massive chest.

His arms crush me gently,
wrap me in a shroud
of sinew and bone

as the smell of bourbon
and musk fills my nostrils.
His breath feathers lightly

across the top of my head;
reassuring whispers
tickle my spine

and tell me
I am not wicked,
I am not a useless, hopeless thing.

I am perfect and flawed.
I am loved.
It is enough.
Nik Bland Jan 5
In this lone
Construct of bone
Within the make of me
Hides things that I
Cannot deny
Where marrow used to be

Over this frame
Lies sheets of veins
Screaming a name ears can’t hear, that mouth won’t speak
That drives me
To insanity
As she’s just beyond my reach

And flaw’ed skin
That’s blanketed
These concrete truths to stop their bleeding
Bleeds nonetheless
In pained excess
Wanting to know what it’s needing

Callused hands
On a beaten man
With insides coming outside in truth
So much doubt
To filter out
In the finding of you
Shofi Ahmed Jan 4
I sniffed a smell of your rose.
Oh, you know what?
It’s enough to thrill the bone.
Just leave a scent in the air
and pop in, take your turn
into a new buzzing centre!
Next page