Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dig
Stab the ground with your shovel
Keep throwing away the dirt
Like she threw away her life
Wipe away your sweat
Let the tears make a sea out of this hole
Like the sea she plummeted into
Ignore the looks of sympathy
Don't allow your body to grow sill
Like her body now
Just dig
Confined within for seventeen never-ending years
Greeted every morning by its hollow disgusting sneer
Cutting fingers trying to peel off the layers of this theater
Getting stabbed and kicked in the head again, death is near

Another day, lost in the space
Feeling more and more alien
Piercing the days like a warrior
Have my head cut off a thousand times
Another day, losing my own face
Smells more and more my carrion
Peering through this barrier
Have my body buried a thousand miles down the earth

Existence does not mean belongingness
Dedicated to Per "Dead" Ohlin
Sharon Talbot Nov 2018
He drives into the desert in a Toronado,
Dust in his eyes from the open window,
Sun on the burned skin and black mascara
That augments his vivid gaze.
Black orbs that stare at the burning sand,
His mouth is defiant and morose,
He turns off the path into the sage and saguaro.
The car is like a black beetle on a carpet of tan.
He lifts a shovel from the trunk, looking crazed.
Digs a shallow grave in the sand,
He rips a talisman from his neck
And declares he is looking for something
Unclear and he slurs a chant.
“Something is coming”, he seems to say.
He buries the necklace and drives away.
Will he come back for it or leave it
for the spirits of the desert?
No, he will come for it every day
Bury it again and again
Until the spell wears down,
The perfumed season is done,
Or perhaps the spring floods
Wash it all away.
Based on a silly advert for perfume, with Johnny as a superstitious rebel! I had to make a "story" of it, just for laughs.
개자닌 Oct 2018
The day has come, I was left alone,
But my commitment has yet to be done.
I have not claimed our infinity, I have had not shown my sincerity.
I shan't be ignorant before my soul and body be gone.

Open field, warm breeze- a perfect scenery.
As I sat and looked down in melancholy.
The tears were still to fall, the things I recall,
Until I touched the glass over you, I became lifeless too.
It just popped into my mind after seeing this old man visiting his wife's grave.
Anna Oct 2018
The noose around your neck
Is around ours
Necks warped and twisted
By pools of molten tears
Erupting without warning

She was an infected bullet wound
Giving you tetanus
A black line that raced to your mind
Reddening your eyes
So you only saw death

You burned in the fire of Hades
Capricious flames dancing
A witch burning alive
Found guilty of being human
A verdict you couldn’t live with

They can't point fingers now
At the void where you were
And their fingers are lost
In old handkerchiefs
Saturated with their tears

Flowers replace you
Where you once stood
White when they should be black
You choke on religion
Even now

We pull back the soil
Tucking you up with the earth
Kissing you with impotent words
Burying you under the rope
You carried so diligently in life
Trigger warning: suicide. This was written about suicide after my boyfriend at the time's brother killed himself. It explores his pain and the pain of those left behind.
21 gun salute;
Another mother
sonless.
~SacredInkedBlood
©2018 VenjencieArnold
6-word story; brevity. WAR is our governments answer all over the world, why? War isn't peace nor does it bring Peace unless you mean, REST IN PEACE? Peace isn't peace if it's forced. Peace isn't peace if it isn't free!
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
Foot meets the metal of a cold shovel
with a sun beaming down
booted foot pushes the *****
into the soft and rooty ground

one mound of dirt
sweat forms above the brow
two mounds of dirt
salty bead slithers down
three mounds of dirt
tuned into the sounds
four mounds of dirt
birds chirp all around

stopped by a thick root
extra force must be used
give that shovel a pogo of boots
and we are at the fifth mound

six and seven are easy
as the hole starts to round
eight nine ten eleven twelve
a tomb has been found

carried your sheet covered corpse
laid you in the hole
cover you with what was uncovered
creating a man made knoll

Six years of memories
laid underneath this red dirt
many years missing
that time gone subvert
Brandon Conway Sep 2018
You get the shovel
I’ll dig the hole
we’ll bury her together
off to heaven I suppose
or wherever dogs go
you go and grieve
I’ll let the little one know
in a little bit
just expect company
RIP June 9/19/2018
empty seas Aug 2018
can you hear the waves?
the relaxing sound
hides a dark undertone

a funeral song
helping the dead and the dying
drift off
to a more peaceful sleep

when i am but a husk
let me join the many
that rest
beneath the waves
and i can feed
the ocean's creatures
to give back what i have taken

life started in the oceans
and there
it shall end

Next page