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Aaron LaLux Oct 5
She cries during ***,
in an attempt to express & address,
this set of collective regrets that’ve been suppressed,
ever since when she was first undressed & no one confessed,

I let her vent, give her room & hold space so she can process,

I suggest she take some deep breaths instead of stress,
still has some emotions left so I guess in a sense she’s blessed,
in a world that’s gone cold & everyone seems possessed,
people stumbling around like zombies in The Walking Dead,

no Norman Reedus or Andrew Lincoln features though,
just an aborted fetus & a broken heart seeking treatment,
which explains why she’s always willing to give guys a try,
& stay with them faithfully even when she’s mistreated,
& I’m willing to be crucified for the actions of other guys,
so I take her torment away & transform it like Jesus,
bare the weight of her loss like a cross then write the moments,
releasing the feelings in books since I’m a poet not a preacher,

not here for the heroics,
or other crowning moments or admirable achievements either,
so I’m on the down-low drinking hoping to go unnoticed,
at a bar on a barstool with a babe so hot I’ve got a fever,
we’re both discrete because we both need ****** healing,
& I promise her I’ll be here for her & not leave her,

until I get assassinated like Abe Lincoln at a theatre,

but she doesn’t believe the things I say about loyalty,
because she’s been betrayed before so she’s not too eager,
but hey I can’t blame her if I’d been through what she has,
I probably wouldn’t be eager to believe me either,
pause this’s getting too intense it’s time for an intermission,
I need to take a break so I can take a breather,

in a real life Soap Opera drama live on stage in Life’s theatre,
caught up in all the rawness of these women’s feelings,
one minute she’s laughing the next minute she’s crying,
she apologizes & I say she never has to apologize for feeling,

or make excuses to me or anyone else for her feelings,
I mean at least she still feels things,

even when those feelings open wounds that need healing,
lays her head one my shoulder, says she’s been ***** before,
so when I go rough in the sack with her she gets flashbacks,
& it’s hard to face facts that relate to what’s happened before,

I tell her it’s okay I tell her I’ll go slow we can take our time,
I tell her it’s ok to stay she’s safe, she can tell me anything,
I tell her sometimes it helps to open up & communicate,
but she just clams up & doesn’t say a thing,

so I get up to go shower,
to try & wash off the stress,
moments later she comes in & joins me,
somewhere between sedated & upset,

at a hotel somewhere in America,
a hotel they call boutique,
but it all feels haunted & a bit spooky if you ask me,
the wind howls, the windows rattle, & all the floors creak,

so I can’t help but get the creeps,
because this hotel feels more than just a little like me,
all dressed up nice, hip trendy on the outside,
but inside everything’s not at all what it seems,

haunted from the drama of these girls that were abused,
then used *** to transfer that abusive dark energy onto me,
which I guess I kinda deserve because I used to serve,
this sort of abuse to girls who were into me sexually,

you get what you give this is exactly what karma is,
so now I’m trying to help heal the Collective Feminine,
from all the damage that’s been previously done over lifetimes,
by the overly aggressive actions of the Collective Masculine,

so go ahead smash your conflicts into me I’m begging you,
drown me in the ocean of the tears of your traumas,
scream shout let it all out until there’s nothing left to let go of,
& I will still love you continually no menopause or commas,

I will always love you unconditionally continually,
no mental pauses or parental dramas,
you have been hurt before but you still have worth for sure,
no one’s pure but at least you’re honest & willing to work on it,

& it’s an honor to be here to hear & be your platform,
for you to express your regrets until there’s nothing left,
you are an incredible creation resilient & brilliant,
you’re worth it we’re out here when distressed I’ll be your outlet,

so you can vent the stress as you process,
even if part of that process involves crying during ***,
you’re worth it I’m here to hear everything you express,
a Living Light in this world of The Walking Dead,

so it’s totally okay to cry during *** go ahead,
especially if it’s an attempt to express & address,
the set of collective regrets that’ve you’ve suppressed,
ever since you were first undressed & no one confessed,

I’ll let you vent give you room
& hold space so you can process…

∆ LaLux ∆

from THHT3: The Hollywood Hills Trilogy 3
available worldwide.

If you enjoyed the poem message me directly and I'll send you a link so you can have the Kindle version of the book for FREE.
Another True Story...
Caleb Nathan Sep 13
my fall fantasies
sing to me
in crisp
golden-auburn-brown
whispers

i hear them
rustling
where the
football flies

i see them
put up in a bun
sitting in the
metallic stadium seats
wrapped in a blanket

with a limitless
drenched within
her infinity smile;

i want to show her
the worst ways
of a world

the puddle
of my past
in its sidewalk-crack
profundity

the gray
        surrounding the moon
she sits on
        between my eyes

but where
would i ever
begin?

“hi,
is anybody
sitting there?”

will have
to do

for today
Long live obsessed with kept secrets
I’ll find them in men of all kinds
Daisies wash away
One by one I call out the ones who
Double dealed, fake, and flaked.
I’m just looking for absolution
Mother Earth once my friend
At the twelfth strike
You trash my world
Speck of love
Yet your eyes double cross
My love has shown me first hand infidelity
Tell me about falseness
As you eat your words
Runaway, look away in hard times
There must be more?
Teach me, better yet model me, then cheat me
I’m wondering, who are you?
You share my DNA but I don’t know you
You think of me as cold
That’s only half the path
Feel the distance
Know it’s your result of mistrust
Those tears say and say
The body holds the source

I know your long lost kept secret
Only a child used so carelessly
All the years of loneliness and void
Blame **** them and forgive them
Please daisies castaway the deception
Clarity swimming in remission
Long before I drown in the many retributions.
Peyton L Aug 23
My lovers have always been like cough drops.
Sweet, soothing, addicting even,
but never enough to solve the problem.
Never enough to clear my damaged throat.

And I don't know if you'll be any different.
From how we started,
it seemed as if I was in for another dose of
acesulfame potassium,
but there's something about you.
That makes me think
you'll be more like a cigarette.

Instead of sweet,
you'll be bitter.
But you'll make me woozy at my first drag,
and mellowed out for the duration.
You'll make my otherwise shaky personality
smooth.
But like rain in the summer,
you won't last long.
At least, I don't think.

There's also something about you
that makes me
want to tell you everything.
You're like a priest,
and I'm in the confessional.
I wouldn't confess my sins to anyone,
but you...
I just might.

What is it about you, huh?
Is it your boyish charm?
Your people skills?
Or is it something more menacing?
Maybe you're a psychopath
who's been studying me and my tells
to see how to get me to open up.
Maybe you're a serial killer and I'm your next victim.

I won't lie, I don't trust easy.
Maybe you're a perfectly good person,
and I just fell in love abnormally quick.
Maybe you really do love me.
But there's something about you I don't trust.

Something about you
that makes me want to run
and never look back.
You have something of a record when it comes
to girls' hearts,
and I'm not so naive as to forget
what you did to Maru,
but I can see
why they forgot to warn me
about you.

It's almost as if
you cleaned their mind
of all the atrocities you've committed.
But I won't be so easily tricked.

I won't forget what you've done.
I won't lie and say I don't love you,
because I do.
I love you with my whole heart.
But, I will not let my guard down.
I will not let you so close
you will never break my heart.
'Cause baby, you ain't no cough drop.
You're a black mamba
in the chicken's coop.

But darling, I'm the farmer
with the gun to your slick little head,
finger on the trigger,
ready to fire.

Do don't underestimate me.
Don'y you dare underestimate me.
'Cause I'm a **** assassin with my aim.
And I'm not gonna miss.
So tread lightly, little snake.
Don't bite my chickens
or swallow the eggs
and I won't shoot.
Inspired by the bag of cough drops on my desk and an old lover I no longer speak to.
دema Aug 3
you whisper words to me
of sweetness that is so
unrecognizable,
but definitely bearable ♥️
astrid Jul 24
Pools of aquamarine sink in the depths of golden quartz
as a figment of a feeling --
too foreign to be named,
yet
too familiar to be told --
grasps into their cores
as a their hands intertwine
with sudden daunting urgency.
Long forgotten are the piercing words
that become nothing but murmurs
in the cool and crisp air that fails to
shimmer and soothe the embers
between his and her beings.
By which the ardent winds push them,
so does the tip of his --- no, hers
she laid claim on this many moons ago ---
her knife, nicking a far edge in their chamber,
hilt bobbing in rhythm with nimble fingers.
Patience and longing, fever and urgency,
all colliding as desire feeds on hope.
The closer they sink,
an anchor beneath the water,
where they find each other
in a movement of souls
through a spirited exchange of breaths.
It begins within them,
a threshold
of a furnace
that burns in
war and frost.
internecine series; d1 (prompt: confessions) entry for a sifki subproject
lilly Jun 17
Why did you say you             L #  $ @                  me?
Was it a lie? How can I learn to believe you, when everyone's told me otherwise?         ^           Is it too late?
                                                                ­         %                 Am I too late?
Do you no longer care for me? Am I no longer worthy or your attention, when I don't sing your praises? When I don't
         #                        *                 hang onto         ;
                     -               every word                                      ~         &
                                         +    you say?                    =

If I told you I             ! & % E            you, would that change a thing?

Is there anything I can do? Were we ever truly friends? Was I just a game to you?
          +             Am I that disposable
                                        that replaceable                  =
                                  ­             that obtainable?
                                 .                                                               @
                ^                                        .
    ­                                                                 ­           .
                                     *              ­                                    Will I ever learn?
When will my eyes stop meeting yours? When will they stop searching for you in every room and -                            &
           &                   -  every city and                       &
                          &           - every particle that grazes my eye?      

Why do I miss you? What can I do to make this better? I know it's not my job to but with you- with you I feel like I have to, you know? Why can't I lie to you ?

                                                            Do­
Do                                                              ­     you
    you                                             Do   you         still
                        L                  @               ­                          %   !   V   #
                    $               0                                                                ­          
                                                      ­  V      &
                                               ^                                 3
                                                               ­                               
                                 ­   still
                                                        ­                                             Me ?
all-too lasting questions asked in an experimental style; i still don't understand you- i don't think i ever will.
Acina Joy Jun 9
My fascination for the morbid,
and the unthinkable is grotesque
in all manner, though it is something
that I do quite relish
for in the concept of it all,
I am quite taken by the blunt
cruelty of the world,
though I am not such a person.
There is loneliness that drifts
amongst those who breathe
simply to survive;
and then there is struggle
and ache,
and misery,
to those who understand far more
than what I can.

My interest is grotesque indeed,
to simply watch scenes unfold
like the wings of a raven, unfolding
like plastic fans with cheap rings at the end
slowly coming undone
as time wears down the bones;
no longer breathes simply
to survive
.
Her lips become unsealed,
as she spills her urge to
confront her lover
.
He hesitates in the face
of an oppressing threat
.
They cry under great pressure.

I am fascinated, by the flamboyance
of the suffering; their strong strides
that hold no actual magnitude.
Their faux smiles that sing of
fresh blood mixed with their saliva
hiding behind trembling teeth;
strong hands that hold far tighter
than usual, when I comfort them,
and their suffering bleeds out of their wounds
like the lungs do oxygen,
and mind you, it surrounds me like a fog.

I have a morbid interest,
of watching it all unfold,
but that is what I simply am.
I am a bystander; a silent witness.

I simply wonder why these people
have the urge to come undone
before me. Why am I such a good
ear to their loud silence.

But ah, I understand now.
I am the same like them;
as you are me now.
be an ear; be a mouth.
I’ve got a confession.
So listen close,
‘Cause I’m only gonna say this once.
You’re perfect
Like the daisies in your hair
Woven in the crown we made together.
You’re special
Like those eyes of yours
Glittering with the sparkle
I noticed the first time I saw you.
You’re beautiful
Just like that photo
We took on our first date in the park.
There.
I said it.
Now, will you please
Wake up?
You promised to get married to me.
But we can’t get married in a hospital.
So please,
Pretty please,
Will you wake up?
...
No?
Not yet?
Don’t worry, I swear I’ll wait.
Just for you.
I’m going. Bye!

I love you.
I've got no idea where this came from. I wrote it on a whim. Ouch, it hurts my heart tho. I wonder how I can relate to this...hm...
Baazi-chan Apr 14
This feelings I feel.
Is unclear.
You confuse me.
With your unrelated silence.
I want to confess.
But.
I fear.
Your answer.
We speak in riddles.
Most days.
When it gets real.
I feel like running.

Real commitment.
Gives me chills.
We speak of flings.
We speak of real love.
We speak of all things.
Real life.
Nothing brings us apart.
But.
When feelings  gets.
Involved.
We fall apart.

Honesty may break our bond.
Our bond of friendship.
Risks.
Is it worth it.
Will the next step.
Break us down.
Or.
Build us up.
My master piece
For Waseem.
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