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Jules 3d
The cat whips its tail,
A dancer.
A balletomane paw rises and
curls for its ribbon-toy.
“HE LOVES ME “ she says to herself everyday.
She always
claimed he would change
and day by day ,
month by month
til eventually years he became worse.
One day he came home
and everything was her fault
in his eyes. He beat her so badly
her family
didn’t recognize her anymore.
She never told them
he was beating her,
locking her away
in a closet for days at a time.
3rd times a charm
here she is in the hospital
once again and fighting for her life.
Loving the abuser eventually costed him taking her life. Now as she lays in the casket she looks down upon her badly beaten body asking herself “why didn’t I just leave?”

—a passage from my next book other book that I’m writing—
Jules 6d
Smooth melody of the kettle.
My mother’s territory. I’m not to touch it: too
Hot, it will burn my still-young hands

The kettle screams. I’m not to pour it,
I will spill and spoil and waste.

The tea sits. I’m not to drink it,
It’s got a vendetta against my tongue,
already bitten, mind boiling.
My mother was pretty overprotective when I was growing up, and she hasn't entirely outgrown it.
Jade Feb 4
Do you love me?
The hand print on my arm say you do
Do you love me?
The bruises on my body say you do
Do you love me?
The loss of air as you squeeze my throat means that you truely love me, right?
The black eyes means you love me
The death threats do as well
The namecalling and insulting means you love me, right?

Which means you love her too
So when you touched her,
I didn’t move
As you hit her
I didn’t flinch
As she bled
I didn’t falter
As she choked through breaths
I stood still, stayed silent
And as the life from her eyes left
I walked away.

Because that’s just what love is...
Miranda Jan 30
i put a spell on you
you salivate at the sound of my name
intoxicated by my touch
my wicked smile commands blood to course through your veins
my gaze in your direction charms you much

you have me to yourself
my smile, my eyes, my curves
i’m only for you to preserve

so lock me up in a tower
cut me off from anyone else
for those who lay eyes upon me
must suffer various hells

i’m yours and only yours
and if ever i try to escape
may you trace red lines along your wrists
hold them up to me and pray
i’ll come running to your rescue

and if i ever call someone else for help
may you threaten that if i am to do so again
you’ll make sure to bash in my head

i put a spell on you  
you crave for my flesh
you’re animalistic in your desire
my hypnotic figure puts you in a trance
my body swerves and curves and it enchants

you can’t control yourself
for i am to blame
i put a curse on you
and i should be ashamed

your cruelty begs forgiveness
you don’t know what you’re doing
if i hadn’t been so tempting
your violent thoughts would not be brewing

the sorceress within me
needs be bound by chains
for i am the one who caused
myself to be trapped with a man who inflicts upon me pain
Stygian Jan 29
Ignoring the signs of happy endings, I dont want to see
Avoiding all the mirrors while everyone stares at me
I'm your broken China doll but I'm scared of what they'll find
So I keep a smile present as I say my line...
Jade Welch Jan 17
There was thunder in my hands,
lightning in his fists.

Thunder always claps,
but lightning always hits.
Catherine McCabe Dec 2018
Shut down.
Shut up.

If strength is dominion,
women are just beginning.
Zombies don’t make news anymore.
Hearing about them eating brains is such a bore.
Filming undead hordes for movies is such a chore.
Zombies don’t make the headlines anymore.

Zombies just eat blood and guts
That is delivered from Braindead food trucks.
Zombies now eat brains from cans
And no zombies movies ever show during the Cannes.

Zombies are just yesterday’s news,
Because everyone’s high on hearing vampires singing the blues.
When you see a zombie, you just shake its hand
Instead of running the other direction as fast as you can.

Zombies don’t get shown on the telly
As they are all perfumed so they are not smelly
So they can grab applications and jobs
Instead of plaguing the city in oversized mobs.

Zombies are now the dominant population
As there is no longer any fascination
About a group of corpses taking college courses.
Zombies just don’t get the six ‘o clock spotlight anymore.

Zombies are now the movie stars
Who now frequent malls, offices, and bars.
Zombies are now a fact of life
As I even know a friend who has zombie kids and a wife.

Zombies are now casually walking
So there is usually no point in talking
About a zombie who got elected city mayor
Who doesn’t promote stalking and terror.

So zombies are not stalking people
So even an op-ed piece is feeble
In getting the people excited about the walking dead.
There are no zombie hate crimes
Because the zombie onslaught times
Are over and done with as six month old bread.
So there’s no point anyway
And it’s illegal anyway
To make your friendly neighborhood zombie
Full of hot .45 lead.

All because zombies don’t make the news anymore.
I am floating around in the mortal realm with no real place to go except to inhabit the bodies of unaware folk who just toil to and fro. I inhabit a pretty-looking woman just to get inside her head but all I keep hearing are musings of how she ought to be dead by slashing her wrists with a kitchen knife to escape from her domestic life and lie ****** on the floor for her husband to see that she was his last great casualty of being a drunken and hot tempered monstrosity. I have to get out of her mentally tormented rhapsody as she stands around looking around for somebody to hold onto. I wish I could hold her too. I walk beside a boy but he doesn’t see me so I get inside his head and find that his mind is filled with poetry about his worn out mother who is passed out and drained in the chair and she never knows where her son is or if he is even there. He writes bright-colored graffiti on those drab gray walls but scrambles to a dark corner whenever a police siren calls. He sells some **** to the local children in those same corners that keep him hidden. It is also the same place where he practices his rhymes about struggling to earn some dimes by selling some death to the innocent so he can live with a dark conscious to lament. This boy is a growing travesty so I leave his tormented rhapsody. I watch him grip the wall and cry and I want to comfort him, but I can’t, no matter how hard I try. I infiltrate into a homeless veteran and probe through his broken mind about his past as a soldier trapped in a fiery jungle with his companions roasted at his side as he hears sinister voices call out for him as he tries to hide in a corpse-ridden hole filled with his shot up compatriots. Now he hides in an alleyway in a country that shuns soldiers but welcomes “Patriots.” All of these people are filled with absolute pain of scratches, gunshots, batterings, and isolation. But the truth is that I want to feel just like I felt before when I walked with these mortals and I want to feel some pain than nothing that makes me feel alive and human again.
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