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Battered but not broken,
It's the fear they have awoken,
The bruises hurt the tears commence,
It's only their actions that make no sense,
A life full of pain Your head filled with blame,
Go take your mind and body,
Go be the chance you take,
All your happiness will be revealed when you make a break,
Don't be broken take control,
This could be the last chance for parole,
You are better than this don't fear their fist,
Know you are never alone.
Madeline Jane Aug 17
Lipstick stains all over your mouth mixed with drawn blood as your tongue crashed violently around my insides
As you traveled
you left behind your mark as if I were something to be discovered
Some the size of Ireland
Others the size of Australia
When the sunlight reflects on our window, I am reminded that it is my time to be vulnerable
Rubbing orange peels on my aching body as if there were a bad spirit that needed to be warded off
Your nose would scrunch up,
but even still your amber eyes seemed ready to sap away my soul
Leaving behind a husk of a body
My straw hair falling off each limb
just like the leaves gathered on the forest floor
I longed to crush them under my sole
The marks on my body seem to have started to absorb the yellow from your eyes
I can’t seem to get rid of you
The avocado toast in the mornings only seem to fill me up temporarily before they are all expelled
Oh how quickly avocados turn ugly!
My nostrils are filling with an emptiness that is cold and engulfing
My head is a boat
I will sail away even if I’m tattered
The raging storm lurks behind me and threatens to end us both
But I know behind those dark clouds
there will be an array of colors
waiting for my happy ending to be painted

(m.p)
I feel butterflies when he walks into the room
Lightning smiles, ******* kiss, contagious confidence
His hard head and his restraint, I took for strength
And I found warmth where he touched
And it was nice to let someone else drive for once.

I feel butterflies as soon as he walks in
Verbal daggers, fierce defense, "well, so he's passionate"
My mistakes, he said he'd take with grace
But he took some warmth away
And it's worth the sacrifice to stay by his side
Because it's easier to let him drive.

I feel butterflies when he walks into the room
Phantom wings, glass to feet, maybe I don't know
My own fault, he said I'm being crazy
Maybe I'm ridiculous
But even though he gets rough
I only feel warmth where he touched
And I don't think I remember how to drive

I feel nothing when he walks into the room
Dusty squares, empty walls, open closet shelves barren
My absence, he never saw it coming
I spent decades afraid of losing all his weight
And I had nothing left
So I took the car for a drive
I end up rediscovering this site every few years, so here's a dump of some stuff I wrote since last we spoke.

This one is about the cycle of abuse.
Zywa Jun 2
A feather over

circles in the town canal --


Domestic wildlife.
Collection "The drama"
your friends pity me
i see it in their eyes
but pretend it's
not there

you bring me along regardless
holding hands under the table
laughing alongside them
and we toast to your
oncoming sobriety

and i think they pitied you too
knowing that you and change
were fated mortal enemies
starting from conception.

god buried you in the dirt when he crafted your soul;
and the angels cursed you, turning the earth
to marbled heliotrope:

we met in that dark prison.
you whispered that everyone
had given you up. so i swore
to never leave. to try.
to fight for us. to
love.

you hold my hand for 46 seconds underneath
the sputtering pools of blonde light
after your narcotics anonymous
meeting.

and the angels pitied me as well,
turning their heads at stoplights
and crosswalks like i wasn't even
there.

as if i could forget or pretend
that i've never seen the
eyes underneath
our bed at
night.
btw im not tryna demonize addicts bc that's some rl hard stuff to deal with, my ex-partner just happened to suffer from addiction alongside being an absolutely awful trashbin person.
neth jones Apr 7
we kip through all the ****** on the news
i left the device on a radio channal
  awoke to it burning up static and turned it off

silence as falcon overviews us
ultraviolet sight
  looking for neon spots and trails of *****
            markings that may betray the entrance of our dwelling

i put the kettle on

our voices are clayed
            by our
   confessing inner multitude
but they're recorded all the same

i pour a cup of tea

our pattern of submission
        is signal tweaked
maintainance by murmers
****** thorough
        through our glacial surrender

i take a sip

silence as
aided by the clear weather
   a drone nips out its choice targets

we were not selected
neither us or any neighbour
but far away ;
a story heard on the device
Carlo C Gomez Mar 25
jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
like tumbling autumn leaves
ever and always
on the steps of a country house.
always and ever
just outside the aix-les-bains dance hall.
his blousy new bride
and her old lover
aware of his sympathies and
  the danger he presents to them.

jaeger.
chasseur.
foxtail.
seduction of fascism in mind,
ever and always
on a deserted alpine road.
always and ever
one trail of blood,
remnant of the preyed upon.
she screams against the glass,
quiet devil in the backseat
haunted by the disorder
  of his own mind.

eyes opened to
his own mutability.
alienation is immanent,
bred in the bone.
a desperate need for gravitas,
built upon vaporous credulity.
and she is pursued through the woods
ever and always,
through iridescent fields
always and ever,
until finally in his crosshairs
  she falls.

those like him have not suddenly
vanished from the earth, but
  are merely lying in wait.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2021
~
Blue and red make purple
Red and green make yellow
What a bride hides
Makes one strange bedfellow

~
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