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Miranda Feb 1
i'm taken back when the pill touches my tongue
cot and hospital gown
sterile smell and nurses scolding me
my father in tears
i'm gagging on antiseptic memories
Meg B Jan 11
I tasted a lingering shot of ****** *****
on my tongue
before my mouth tasted
the rest of the night.
I pretended that I was
much drunker than I was
because I thought that would
make it easier,
less painful.
I gave myself a pep talk
and should've understood
that nothing wanted
needs convincing.
I've suppressed the act so much
in my subconscious
that I only remember it in flashes,
like a slow motion replay of a life-ending
car accident you'd see in a movie.
In some ways,
that scened ended me;
the world was fuzzier
than it had been the night before,
when I woke up no longer wearing
my agency.
The normalcy with which I picked myself up
from the dingy navy couch
was underwhelming
and haunting all at once.
I left with my dress and my shame clinging to me,
fearing not for myself
or how I had said no so many times before,
but instead that
giving it all still wasn't enough for you;
losing myself,
unraveling my soul wasn't worth
what I thought it would sell for.
All I saw was
the satisfaction that I had given that didn't satisfy you.

An emptied shell;
you took it all,
and I've been hollow ever since.
Supa Dec 2018
Flurries fall onto the window
As white fills the street
With a clean white sheet of snow
The phone rings
Schools have been cancelled
Call up my friends
“Let’s go down the BIG sled hill”
We meet up around 3PM
Where no little kids around to ruin our day
We pack snow to make a ramp
And drag our sleds up to the top
As we race down the sled hill one by one
Faster than light
Speed, I am speed
Feeling the freeze and staring at the jump ahead
Until we feel an elevation
Then we are sent flying high
Soaring faster than planes in the sky
Until we land
Hard landing but we land
Every laugh, every giggle fuels are adrenaline
As we take on the ramp
And build it up and build it up
Until we get the biggest jump
And once we get tired of that
We race down the hill
Trying to knock each other off to win
So we can go the finals
And be crowned a sled champion
In our fake world
And we rinse and repeat the same formula
Our creative minds wonder
Until it turns dark
Where our mothers come to pick us up at 8
Where we get hot chocolate at McDonalds
And head back to someone's house
Where pizza and drinks await
Where we go downstairs and play video games
And talk about girls all night
And sleepover and stay up til late
Still playing games
Having deep talks
Life, sports, girls, parents, etc.
Truth or Dare, What are the odds
Until we start to feel tired
And pass out and start dreaming
On the next snowfall
Under the white blanket
Need a snow day right now tbh. Flashback free verse! Follow for more
Michael Opoku Nov 2018
i touch my soul and release the ON switch.

The darkness beckons like an aborted child full of possibilities never explored.
Potential never reached.
Heights never teached.
Things never speeched.
But life goes on thrashing like a rude animal, desperately devouring all in its path with no end in sight, and no table manners.
Trembling slowly, my hand reaches into the abyss for a drop of light to comfort my flickering life force. The only channel of hope that now rushes with the ferocity of a dying turtle, with no home to speak of.

TICK TOCK, click clack, the only sounds that remind me that reality never shuts off.
Where’s the remote?

It was never invented.

My shadows play dead to my consciousness, never there to teach me my concrete lessons.

So I scratch my bed stings, reminders of my past, itches of my present, and marks  in my future.

The fade to black is my only resolution.

The gavel sounds and I pinch myself, hoping it’s a dream, no it’s just a scheme, ultralight beam?

The ticks turn into Morse code. Translation?



Start over.
Katy Sauer Oct 2018
Frigid fingers running down my spine
Wrapping around and squeezing my lungs
Coating me in thick layers of ice.
I'm forcing my feet flat on the ground,
Gripping onto the present so tightly
My knuckles turn an **** shade of bone white.
Eyes darting, landing on things
In the now, hoping to not get lost
In hidden movies that attack me from the shadows
Mental VHS tapes that replay in high definition
Making me doubt my sanity.
Terror running so deep that I reach for blades
To carve not just into my skin
But my very own identity.
Chopping off chunks to store the flash flood
Without drowning in the swamp.
This saving grace rapidly turning
Into the one and only thing, I may not survive.
Shards, past broken off come back
So brittle and sharp they threaten to pierce
My heart at the slightest wrong move.
I have lived through one war only to enter another
That seems to have higher stakes.
Panic freezes my veins and leaves
Beads of cold sweat on my flesh.
I am paralyzed and frigid.
Gasping for each and every breath.
Katinka Oct 2018
we play activity
and we have to mime
****** things as *******
and it is all fun and games

it´s your turn
I am supposed to guess
You act like you pushing someone down
like you are hitting someone

I give up
****
How could you not guess that
you laugh while asking me

You give your friend a fist bumb
as he tells you nicely mimed

How, I wonder
How can you nicely mime ****
How can **** be nice

you guys laugh

you look at me laughing and say
so you like being *****
I mean it is a kink right

I don´t say anything.

you wouldn´t know
You laugh
but nobody ever took you arm and didn´t let go
nobody ever grabbed your ***
nobody ever catcalled you on the street
nobody ever followed you
pushed you down
you never felt the weight of another body not belonging on yours
never felt someone crushing your wrist
never felt ashamed for your body
never felt ashamed for your gender

you were never told what not to wear
to not get *****
you were only told that people who do
want to get *****
you never experienced ****

But for me
for us survivors it is not a joke
not a kink
not a fetish
or fun and games

for us it is a trauma
a nightmare
flashbacks
late night shivers

for us it was ****.
for us the things you joke about are real.
Kristaps Oct 2018
The fester of the past caresses my
skin as a mother would.

Grey ash mint apples - a feast
for a crawl to the flees is a burden
unyielding.  The endless unmotivated hours
ending in blinks serve
as the hard concrete floors for the
cellar of my bedroom.
Each glass mosaic piece
of my 19th-century chamber door
embeds a muculent eyeball of my longing ka.
Red droplet soup in a marble bowl,
the utensil now tied in hair clumps.

Every Ra's breath- a six-eyed sand crawler
on my leg thumps
Josh G Sep 2018
Friends, oh friends
Where did you draw that line?
We're shuffled around, bagged up and shelved
And somehow that's just fine
You claimed you'd help me when I needed it
And now I'm suffering is this what you meant?
You pushed me away, scared to take action
While this burden rolled down, gaining traction

I spiraled down, cracking to the core
Empty bottles of pills all sprawled out on the floor
You grew more distant while I tried to reach out
Plaguing my mind with these crushing waves of doubt
I expected more and I was let tragically down
As my problems spread and gained all of this renown

I was broken, I was battered and sore
When did helping, become such a chore
But I forgave you, for all of your faults
It just hurt me, to watch this friendship halt
You preach about helping by noticing the signs
But when I was apparent you just ignored mine
Now years have passed and we've grown up
We don't talk but that's good enough
Please dont feel sorry, for the things that you did
I hold no grudge, for we were just kids
I wrote this more as a song but figured I'd share it anyway. It's about some times I went through during/right after high school.
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