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WistfulHope Sep 14
If I was any more of a *******
I'd dare you to hold the knife closer
Feeling you press hard against me
Making me wet
In crimson threads
Staining my neck
Why can't I just being ******* normal.
Why can't you stop being a massive ****.
Dinamus Aug 5
I like breaking my bones
Am I out of my mind?
The hail of stones
Is the only solace I'll find

When I feel like I'm alive
Only then can I meet
My reflection in the mirror
And look into his eyes
I like to-
Poison my tea
To remember to breath
Shallow as the sun
Setting under the sea

I like to-
Put my hand to the fire
Just to beg for the cold
If I ever grow tired
I'll still be a fool

I like to-
Step barefoot through glass
Just to feel the blood flow
If it heals for a while
I'll make trails in the snow

I like to-
Cut deep,
Dig for the bone
If I find it and pull
Will I feel alone

I like to-
Drag it out,
Suffer real sweet
Its a sickness inside
And it runs so deep

I like to-
Hold my breath,
A belt on my throat
I tied it so tight
So i left you this note
Calm is the storm when you’re away
Dreaming I’m sure of what I’m thinking,
And what desires I crave.
There’s a creature lurking behind the treeline
Of the distant forest, and a part of me
Yearns to adventure there
To see what ways it’ll have me.

A cage unlocked by undone straps,
Button, zipper, and tied laces,
And torn clothes from impulsive thirst
For more skin to be shown,
I know you crave it.

The bark will make its mark
As torn skin likewise will against it,
Follow me to the treeline,
Where none but the feral dare go,
To have their way
As the domesticated
Run for suburbia.

There’s nothing to fear
If your beast fights as mine,
For where’s the fun in vanilla,
When red is such a pretty color,
You don’t need to be careful with me,
Show me what you’re made of.

Tonight, let’s be the new urban legend,
And dismiss the thoughts of making it out alive
Or letting the sunrise save us from our fate.
32 lines, 237 days left.
Empty bags and candy wrappers
Left strewn about
From my last attempt
To fill this feeling
To suppress this anxiety
Only for it to fail
And give birth to a different sickness

The rage I feel when I look in the mirror
The body I was given
And all that I have done to it
I want it to be beautiful
But just can’t keep up with the work
So the burning grows inside
I’ve gotta let it out
And I want it to hurt

There’s no one else to blame
No other half
I’ve just one brain
There is no wicked tempter
Only chemically driven impulse
I only lose my temper on myself
I want to squeeze til there’s no pulse
I want to shatter my mirror
And use the broken pieces
To carve the body I wished to see
When the mirror was whole
28 lines, 240 days left.
Eve Mar 3
My fiery red heart is in the darkness
Its beat is suffocating, it’s almost breathless
As every second goes by, it slows easily
And with it every cell, every atom cries for help, warily.
It’s fighting so hard every day and every minute for its survival
But I can’t help but feel even demise seems like a better call;

Oh dear hands of relentless agony,
release my heart, return my sanity.
Oh great hands that own me,
return the good part of life ever so willingly.
I'll go along my way, away from you,
Away from this tension to anything and everything new,
Anything that’ll replace this suffocating pressure!
Anything that’ll release me from this trap laid for me to suffer!

Oh tight grips of confinement, please,
From this disgusting displeasure- put me at ease.
Allow me the privilege to feel anything other than this
TORTURE, SADNESS, PAIN, I beg- open your fists.

Oh Great hands that tugs my fiery red heart,
Return it to me before I lose all my colour to this dark.
I plead to you Oh Great Hands that possess me;
Open your fists, release your grip, gently put me down and gracefully leave me be...
For everything and anything outside your existence isn’t that bad.
I just want returned to me all the innocence I once had.

Oh Great Hands of unhappiness, what do you want from me?
Have I not given you enough? What more could you possibly need? Love, maybe?
But I will never love you.
I can never love you.
I refuse to ever love you.
Oh great hands of antagonizing pain,
I’ll never see the true beauty of this life if you keep me this chained.

What is that? Your words aren't very clear!
Tell me if it's right- the words that I hear;
"Oh my precious, it is you who is the beholder of this chain.
It is you who’s holding on to something without healthy gain.
These grips have long released you from this displeasure ,
Oh my darling, it is you who is refusing to be free, refusing closure!"

Oh Great Hands that had me, return and bind me into this darkness where we once played,
bind me to you so at least I have someone to blame for this weight that never seems to fade.
Oh Great Hands that opened their fists, hold on to me and take me away from this world,
it’s not as beautiful as I thought, take me away and hide me like a pearl.
I swear I’ll not complain anymore, I swear I’ll not fight you, I swear I’ll love you.
I swear I’ll love you and all the pain you come with ever so blue.

Oh Great Hands, I beg you, please save me-----

From myself...

-fir.m
insane edge
and I am lost
in a cloud

my *****
keeps thumping
like it's thunder
and lightning

and I'm edged up
and somewhat
losing my mind

cannot concentrate
outside the idea
of being in a bind

through endless
rope you've
threaded throughout
my mind.
zebra Jun 2020
between the umbilicus of limbo,
and the theater of cruelty
the rational world remains a derelict
void

welcome are hallucinations
abolishing reason
that give meaning
to blood shot
gazing walls
beyond  the limits
of sanity
where madness can not be opposed
in a world
of tug a war aberrations

a lyric breathed voice
shoots through
nerve membranes
while marching
an infantry of
squat shadows
and false memories   
that move like flames 
in a vacant lot
of burning violets

she goes hungry

a snake head
eats its tail
in graves
scattered voice
and speechless tongue

arteries pulse vermillion
naked and wanton
waiting to be pierced
for schitzo's release
in a lyric of dreads desire

a tidal force
lifts a dirigible of hell
in a fountain of blood

moonstruck in torn *******
a spreading bride
dissolves hoop-armed
around a formless shadow
hallucinating
her beloved killer
foot stones kiss
….
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=carl+jung&&view=detail&mid=19CC0D7663DBC03C91B219CC0D7663DBC03C91B2&&FORM=VDRVRV
It is not lost on me that the meaning of much that I write is not well understood. Some say if you have to explain a poem its failed.
Id flip that around and say what of the readers responsibility to be culturally assimilated, familiar with surrealism and the writings of visionaries who constructed and promulgated altered realities some of which great movements of literature and culture are built upon, such as Artaud among many others who inspire the subject of my darkly exotic intersectional writings.
Let it suffice to say then at the very least these poems are streams of conciousness that give expression through the relentlessly imposing or suggestive bizarre mental constructs of the mind unmoored by convention
zebra Jun 2020
body genre
at a carnal address
sensory and sensuous effects
materiality
digital images
anthropology of desire

she tied a knot around his ****
a wedding band made of licorice shoelaces
for the art of tongue and ****
driving it in her pink throat
back and forth
like a shift stick

flared for the retina
a puzzlement and fascination
haptic screen of fiction

adventure of  being pinned down
an unpremeditated punctum
fucktum sucktum

the stadium of desire
a shop window
banality transcending banality
the literal transformed
into the ******
a ****** smiles red

girl in a suitcase
with a hole to ****
a treasure chest
the leaky boundaries of erotica
sing in
musical blood whistles

I packed her up
limbless and threw
her on the bed
and with tender kisses
of endless
wet permutations
banged
three oozing holes
into finger ponds of oblivion

she taunted   
age play- ageless
***** class
a weird ethnicity
from Timbuktu
racially motivated lust for a
conveyance of
fleshy intensities
way past help

a big **** dips
a tender dimple
like a barnacled whale
in a deep dive

the violence of
a preemptive strike
for everything imaginable
across raw lips
in her cosmos
of swinging hips
and cross bone riddles

oh happy *****
suicide ******
at the computer screen

River Styx of flames
zebra Jul 2020
with the lust
of a 14 year old ***** boy
playing hooky
eyes   blink orbs
riding the bumpy
**** grind yields
a mental representation

her ***

a Coney Island ride
reciprocity of tongue and groove
a big dipper
and a hot dog
in a bun eating contest

i eye the shape of her legs
brahmana of form
**** cake butter scallops
with a prune skin ****
***** dark little sister
going along for the ride
with hidden talents
om shakti om
holy donut with a zit

rubbing myself
a peripatetic command
like I had the junkies itch
in a **** sea
of black nail claws
like musical notes
that tear flesh
hegemony of *** art

make me bleed *****

Tangula The Exotic Shake Dancer
moves infallible hips
and dancing hands like octopi
tickling bloated *****

ta-ting go the finger cymbals

smiling she called pip squeak
colossus of her dreams
flick tongues the meringue
licking the
shimmering tantra pistol

finger up the **** hole
brings a prostate exclamation point
and a throat gag lyric
for a wagon train
of wrap around lips
zooming spit and spray
wet like scungelli

her *******
like cloud cookies
****** my mouth
gasper boy
chokes on
a marshmallow fire

i kiss her feet
and work my way up
the slippery *****
a starved dog

God told me to lick a girls *******
as a test of faith
The Devil himself couldn't stop me
Am I not to be congratulated into saint hood :)
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