V Anne Jul 12

I like feeling like danger girl.
I like feeling like a shooting star
blazing across your eyes
and gone in an instant.
I love being the whimsical
day dream of a woman
I had hoped to be when I was twelve
and feeling trapped.
Listless within my own body
yet every nerve ending was electrified
like I was an overcharged battery.

Zip. Zap.
I want to dash across your heart
leaving no bruise or cut
but a stinging burn.
Icy me all you want
but I have already combust.
I live in my own scorched skin.

Zip. Zap.
There’s a ringing in your ears.
The whirl of wind
winding past your head
ruffling your hair
raising goosebumps
yet you cannot shiver.

I like feeling like danger girl.
I like free falling this role.

Zan Balmore Jul 2

She'd gone from discharge straight back to the office, dressed in her sweats and intake band. She got into the elevator, fingered lucky seven, and rode the way up stuck in molasses thoughts, in anger and shame.

She was no one's property, The Agency's least of all.

The neon lights over River City's southeast side popped and sparked, dancing gracefully in the array of dull grey derelicts. She watched them exploding through the safety of the glass.

She'd tell Asgar exactly what she thought.


"I don't give a fuck about the why, I give a fuck about the how. How could you do that to me, man?"

I was doing you a favor.

"No, don't even -- you were doing your fucking self a favor. "

Oh, of course. We all thought you might like to have some teeth, Miriam.

"Don't say my name like that! I'm not your fucking daughter."

Calm down, okay? Please?

"You made a decision about my body that was not yours to make. If I want to be a toothless crone, that's my business. If I want to have one tit and a dick, that's my fucking business, Asgar. "


And when it was over, as most do, she rode the way home with her head hung below her shoulders, wondering if the words she'd found to say were too true. She wondered, what some wonder, if her truths were better used when they were cut from the script to defuse inconvenient situations.

When she went inside, Miriam threw her keys and her clothes into a pile by the bedroom door, pulled the band from her wrist and then stepped into the shower. She'd go out. If she truly weren't worth her weight, then she'd throw herself to the city, hoping to trade what was left for sex.

And drugs. Drugs, too.

alan Jun 14

Walking around the rim of acid water,
"swim on in, you won't get hotter!".
Open your eyes under the brim,
burn your eyes and find it dim.
"Follow me we'll rinse your ear"
search for a hand but you cannot hear.

Dot Jan 10

Polished and serene;
your vocal tones,
they soothe my stereocilia.

Aditi Kumar Nov 2016

"Have you no eyes?" they asked
"Can you not see?"

"Have you no ears? Can you not listen?"

"Have you no hands? Can you not feel?"

"Have you no heart? Can you not love?"

"A heart?" I laugh

"I have no heart to see the people around me
I have no heart to listen to your incessant noise and careless excuses
I have no heart to feel the world and
I have no heart to love my life."

Kewayne Wadley Nov 2016

Your voice is like my favorite song.
I'm not quite sure how to explain it.
Soon as you speak my soul is instantly combustive.
A deep echo heard in the farthest region of my soul.
Standing there, roaming free.
Each peak skydiving into the ripple of my heart.
This edgy parapsychology that ceases to end.
Doused in gasoline, ignited, remade anew, soon as the door way to your mouth
is opened.
Never fading.
This majestic feeling that you give.
I wish my headphones had a higher setting.
To take in more of you.
Each throb against my ear drum
Echoes In perfect excitement.
My heart pounds in anticipation.
A pool of gasoline touched by a spark of fire.
A bright blaze taken place inside the well of me until there is nothing left inside.
This is the effect you have on me.
Waiting to hear your voice climb the peak of where I stand
In the farthest region of my soul

maxime Nov 2016

my fingertips are numb
filled with feathers that ferry no feeling
i press, i prod, i reach out for more
i know my fingers are there
they're simply just numb

my ear drums are throbbing
silence smothers them in a suffocating stillness
i strain, i scream, i yearn for a sound
i know my ears are viable
they're simply just unsound

I've been feeling scared to publish poems likely. I'm not really sure why.
Crimsyy Sep 2016

That hammering heart..
I could go on and on about it.
I could say how I knew
the meaning of the word
"alive" in that instant.
I could say that I've never
felt safer than when I was
nestled in your arms.
I could say that for once,
I knew I was not going to faint
by thinking of what that heart pumped.
I could say that your heart pumped
your purpose but now it has made
room for two and it pumps my purpose too.
And I could say that the sound of your
heart running laps in your chest
is still ricocheting in my ears
and it will reside there to remind me,
to give me a valid reason to stay
when I'm on edge and want to
disappear.

Little things mean a lot.
Peter Balkus Aug 2016

Since I can remember I hear ringing in my ears
and no doctor can help me out.
I was trying to be cured, I was taking meds,
but in vain. My sister said
that it will pass, the ringing will ease
and go away. She said it's because
I'm growing up, hormons thing,
they mess up your body. But I'm thirty two
and it still rings, and seems not to stop.

I got used to it, though sometimes
when it's very quiet, I can hear it very loud,
it freaks me out, feels like skull is about to
blow up.

Disease, not very serious, but incurable.

Since I can remember I've got that ringing
in my ears. Like an echo of wild howling
from a cold trains, to the last stop,
from where there's no come back home.

Lu Lu Jul 2016

My walls have heard much.

- silence -
the intense focus of a curious young mind
seeking new worlds to escape to,

- laughter -
joyful peals and naughty cackles,
serenading the room with divine amusement,

- tears -
a thousand words left unsaid,
a thousand questions left unanswered, outraged,

- breath -
steady assurance of the blossoming flower
who faces much, but reveals little,

- typing -
furious fingers write like the wind,
expelling the madness before it slips away,

- music -
thrumming habitually from a Bose speaker
like the heart beat of her sanctuary,

- quiet -
the kind she only finds in safety,
ensconced in contentment like a warm blanket,

- peace -
pages turning, wicked glee,
steady breath, self discovery,
magic in the making,
food for thought, safety blanket,
total and utter
peace.

If your walls had ears, what would they hear?
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