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Traveler Oct 2019
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
Despair Jun 2020
Weather I erase myself now or later- does not even matter.
For I bear the burden, of someone who is loathed by their creator
All this time- I have tried
To bend to your whims, apologize and cater
Only for you to remind me- how the world would have been a much better place if I had just

My pen will not form words no matter how hard that I press
Until the ink bleeds out, and all that is left is a mess
The empty paper burns into my eyes, rotting into my brain like its own empty husk.
My words are soft and flowery,
But I do not feel like attempting to discuss
How I should be the one to impress, with my pretty, petal-infused words.
Words that people simply overlook and cast aside
as “stupid poetry” or “redundant detail”

I want it to end.
Are these words blatant enough for you?
I will end it.
Is this clear enough for you to understand?
I will end it myself, by myself.
And there is nothing that anyone can do to stop

Because my screaming was never loud enough, was it?
Not to father, not to mother- not to god
who wouldn’t bother.

I know how to do it.
Because I’ve never stopped dying, not even now.
I close my eyes,
Red is in my writing so much, because
I lean upon it like a crutch, as it is the only consistent within my life
Covering me in its bloodied, feathery ******* like a thrush

The things that love me, truly, do nothing other than
Tease me with the thing that i
Want more than anything.

Anything that I wish to do fizzles beneath my hand
And withers within my chest
Until it has dried itself throughout my eyes.
Why can’t you let me cling to just one thing-
Why is it so hard to do this?

I have felt what it is like to have electricity volted throughout body, to where my brain has burst and my eyes have popped like grapes out of my skull.
How can they explain disembowelment you ask?
Because I am sick, and have felt it multiple times enough to decipher that one does not have enough nerves to feel the inside of their own stomach
I’ve died in pools of my own blood more than once. Tasted it, even
Given birth. Watched the child I loved died.
And done this all through other’s eyes, too.
I have been shot, maimed, skinned alive- had my ribs cast open with my organs peeled out, just enough to keep me amongst the living.
All within dreams. Where the sensation of pain is so real, I wake up wondering if the reality I am living is the ‘real’ one.
I meet friends that I shall never seen again, and most importantly
I love someone that does not exist.
How I love them so dearly, I love them for all it is worth existing for
And so my rationale behind dying- is that I do not want to live in this world without them
Anyone else would stand to be nothing other than a substitute
All I want is you
In my dreams
To tear my heart out and devour it, like a shattered, forbidden fruit

Since the age of four, I’ve experienced visions in bouts of sleep paralysis
No matter how hard I’ve tried, they’ve found nothing within the
nobody believes me, and my words rang on deaf ears
of my visions just being dreams that must’ve reflected my fears

but I’ve cried tears that aren’t mine
and drank poisoned, velvety wine
I believe my birth has been plagued by an incubus
But it’s not *** they feed off of,
But raw, unencumbered fear.
And somehow, I’ve fallen so deeply in love
Hopelessly addicted
Because the nightmares in my walking life are scarier
Than the ones beneath my bed
And for me? It is the only thing

That has truly been ‘here’.
Please don't read if you're sensitive to dark content.
shila n Apr 2020
the fog writhe
approaching near

I try to run
anyhow, blocks of glasses
arose out of nowhere
I'm inside of a building now
standing before rows of windows

out I look
I see something
an unknown figure
I couldn't make what is it
but my heart knows
I hate it

I got alarmed by my fear
the chills are slithering on my skin
It is coming
a lady in white, all torn up, full of dirt
was it soil?
was it blood?
messy long hair as dark as the night without the moonlight
bloodless pale skin
bloodshot sickly looking eyes

give me mercy
I really don't like this
I must get out of here
I must!

I tripped myself
I fell on my face
I try to get up but I failed
my body feels so heavy
so burdened
there's something above me
it's the woman
I know it's her
she sits on my back
I could feel her eyes
scanning through me
I could feel she
brushes her cold hands on my back
they're on my shoulders now
and then on my neck
to quelch it
she wants to **** me!

I close my eyes as tight as I could
I'm so scared
I'm ******* do
I try to scream
but no voice was out
it could not even pass through my lungs
only dry air escapes
only I could hear my voice
echoed in my own head
my neck got stiffened
I started to get panic

hell no!
I don't need panic attack right now
breathe, I tell myself
it's not real
the woman is not real

keep fighting
move your limbs
kick my legs
grab on my mattress
I blink my eyes
forcing them to open
I have to wake up!

the lights from the wall
peeking through my lashes
my muscles had relaxed
my body feels light now
no longer heavy
I sat up
my heart raced

I search through my bag
took my pill
I overthrown my blanket
trying to go back to sleep
reciting prayer in my head
hoping to not encounter
the uninvited visitor
the nightmare I had before I experienced sleeping paralysis, or what I thought to be incubus
Ariel Jan 2019
I don’t know how to love myself
But maybe I can like myself someday.
Perhaps I’ll find comfort in my own eyes
And not within yours.
I will someday look at my reflection
And be ready to take on the world.

Tell me how to beat this
Whisper your secrets to me, Incubus
Tell me what I'm doing wrong.
Because, despite everything you say and how much it hurts,
I am powerless to resist your song.

You smile at me, with eyes like the earth:
Soft and warm and open.
How do you ensnare me so?
You barely utter a syllable and I am helpless to your siren's call.
Leave me be, Incubus. Let me be free!
For I am caught in your clutches, when this was never meant to be.

Kiss me softly, Incubus--
Touch your lips to my collarbone,
Let me feel your hands upon mine;
Press your body close.
You never wanted this,
No, you never wanted me.

Release me from this prison
Stop my fall by design
You are giving me beautiful strangulation
You suffocate me all of the time.
With your quiet words and beautiful turn of phrase
You know exactly how I am built,
And thus how to make me fall apart.

You are the Sun, the Moon, and my Star--
Your lovely voice could make me weak if properly applied.
You are my Everything, my One,
Everyone else pales to compare.
Stop it now, my dear Incubus!
You grieve me so!
Your words have more power than anyone else
The power to make me soar--or descend into the depths of hell.

Hold me closely, Incubus--
Stop the curtain as it draws near
I beg for release from your sinful words.
You provoke me in the most delectable way
Leaving me with nothing at the end of the day.
Such is torture, misery, suffering--
But in the best possible way.

Someday, perhaps, I shall be free.
With death or some other release--
Perhaps a blue-eyed boy will come along and erase all of the pain you've caused.
My dearest hope, though, is for you to see me as I see you:
Eyes full of love for someone so perfect it hurts.
I won't dwell on this, at least I'll try
For we deserve to try to live, Love--
Else we'll surely die.

Save me now, my Incubus;
Please don't let me succumb to the dark.
You're all I want in life
Anything else would be a cruel joke,
A fallacy,
A lie.
Anything else would make me want to die.
Weeeeell I thought I was over this but apparently not. One look, one smile, and I'm completely undone. FML.
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar

Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind

He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier

He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes

Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate

He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds

Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your  carnal ecstasies revealed

You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm

You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs

With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
I of we all create our own incubi and succubi and we should pay attention to their parameters.  Nothing like a philanthropic Incubus.
She walks at night likes passion's grace
Through nebulous fields of dream landscapes
Wild Morpheus her footsteps guides

She’s lust’s impassioned wile incarnate
Her will like swirling ocean currents
Endows the night with wanton purpose

Sent from heaven's pearly gates
To make men ponder mortal fortune
Tempting spirits will to sate

Demanding accolades of prowess
To satisfy her primal needs
Traverse her treacherous terrain

Her visage of immortal love
Like honey dripping from the comb
Inspires reckless heart's abandon

Dawn comes like coitus interruptus  
Narcotic wisps of contention fade
A thrall with no earthly recourse
Infatuated with the feminine mystique in general can leave you unrequited.
chloe fleming Dec 2017
Your beauty is not the reason for your existence,
Rather, it is your soul that stirs winds within you,
Guiding you further into your own tornado.
No, my dear, your beauty is only a fraction of the person that you are
With the rest conniving and gloriously consuming all who listen
Incubus, I call you, luring in those who seek satisfaction from broken parts.
Tempt me,
with all the cracks in your heart.
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