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Olivia 6d
Food.
Just four letters.
One syllable.
Something that used to mean comfort,
Desire,
A delicious Sin.
Something that turned out to be my worst enemy.
Something attractive, hypnotizing :
It calls you, it wants you,
And you’re not the hunter anymore ;
You’re no longer the one who is going to eat
But the one who will be eaten.
quite a personal one I had in mind for a long time. That's such a hard feeling to put into words.
Anya Oct 4
I was eating a cookie
But it was too hard
...
So I put it in
The microwave
For a minute
...
...
And guess what?
It worked!
Dean Russell Sep 1
Imagine your hand is
one hundred days older
Than the hand you use now.
Look at your hand.

What will that hand hold,
in one hundred days from now?
What will that hand have push away
that changes the next one hundred days?

Your hand is younger than it is now
than it will be in one hundred days.
In one hundred days, this hand will
mould and shape and change each way.

This hand is the age you are now,
and this hand is not eternal.
This hand helps you to write and pick up
what you need; reflexes from danger, sometimes.

One hand in one hundred days may be
marked, with a burn or scar or a tattoo.
The other hand may be softer, because
you wore gloves or moisturised by choice.

Or maybe this hand in one hundred days
Will be blistered, from harm you fought with wonder.
Maybe this hand is a blessing forgotten
And you reach for another coffee.

So why are you so focused
on what happened one hundred days ago?
The hand moves, clenches, rests, changes,
like time too.
I take upon me your human sacrifice
Drop down a uterus for me to climb into
Open up my womb and breathe in new life
Drown this dragon so I can come back to you.
After feasting she remained empty
As she engorged on salivation
Her pregnant belly fruitless
Divine edema everlasting

Thick to thin with the blink of an eye
But magic is misunderstood
The medicine men scorn tales
Their pages do not contain her

At sunset she flees
Yet the dawn always the same
Her throne may not be supreme
But in the mirage she reigns alone
Gemma Aug 11
He's rubbing me
through my clothes
something wonderful but unfamiliar
does it so very well but I can't let him know
Because it will blow the atmospheric fear of being bad at this sort of play
He'll soon find out however as I'm gonna overload
all over his face.
Willow Aug 1
I wish that someone will notice...
I wish that someone will notice that I am falling apart...
I wish someone will notice that I am not just sensitive...
I wish someone will notice that I am depressed...
I wish someone will notice that I have anxiety...
I wish someone would notice my scars...
I wish that someone will notice that I have a fake smile...
I wish someone would notice the days I don't eat...
I wish someone would hear me hovered over the toilet...
I wish someone would care enough to even be suspicious of me...
I wish someone would tell me everything will be okay...
Qwn Jul 25
living in a house that isn't a home,
eating, sleeping, breathing, alone.
control
over nothing
besides what i put on my fork
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