Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dakota J Dawson May 2018
I'm  a dead man
Deceased by crime
Folly

Shame corresponds
With my rather
Complicated mind

My spirits dampened
Spent on *****
Disgrace

No heir
Empty desire
Hateful glare

Waiting for
The spark
A grateful gleam of hope

Run
Embrace ruin
Choices made on a whim

Tired and broken
No high
Simplistic grand opera

An end to all
Up and over
Down and under

Dead and alone
Independent
Forgiven against an empty space
lia jay May 2018
when the darkness of the night hits,
that's when I feel most alone.
I may be in my room,
but definitely no home.

the voices start speaking,
no longer am I alone.
the voices in my mind,
they become my only friends.
one's named Susan.
one's named Jenn.

the voices in my mind,
they tell me any things.
"darling, your not alive"
my chest starts to sting.

for the voices in my mind,
they teach me how to cope,
possibly I could slit my throat.

the voices in my mind,
bring me to the blades.
I gain the urge to slit my veins.

the blood starts pouring,
I begin drifting off,
to the land above.

wish me good luck.

-l.j.t
SoVi Apr 2018
I always thrived on affection
But I have a taste for destruction.
Wonder how it’ll feel to suddenly die
But sadly for me, I enjoy feeling alive.

The taste of blood in my mouth
But I don’t like the pain from a punch.
If I could bypass I’ll find another way to ding it
The feeling of emotion from another person’s actions.

Self-preservation is lacking
For my mother’s health, I’m trying.
Stopping my Ego from killing itself
Even though after death I’ll like to see hell.

It’s not that I am suicidal
But thoughts are running wild.
Fascination with the concept of death
Cause no ones loves it enough to comprehend.



© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Daemon Delano Apr 2018
'Twas driven mad this day,
over something small.
Small I say,
But only seemingly so.
Like doors to the fray,
my feelings did flow.

Thine lips of Fate,
they kiss me fondly.
N'one shall know,
Tho they look at me oddly.

Shouldst I dine on thine maniacal stare,
my thoughts and feelings I bare.
and find mineself in evanescence
eternity passes with such sweet decadence.

Finding ourselves in this,
blissful garden of darkness,
My mind doth wander.

Far, Far above those crooked branches,
to a different place in the eon.
You sit at my side and make me whole.
Our child is beautiful,
calling my name.

Jumping on my knee she says with her lips,
"I want the raven."
Before I could reach for this "raven",
I awaken to your nudge and smile.

Gazing into your eyes,
Almost lost,
In the endless depths of your soul,
I recite a verse,
Of that I rehearsed,
Hoping it wouldst make us,
even more so amorous

"If I stay,
I mean,
If i might,
Thoust shouldst be my life."

You question my verse,
And tho you hesitate,
I continue with a simple voice.

"Please, my sweet ember.
Please, my true love.
Find it in your heart and soul,
that you love me,
and make me whole.
You are my One.
I love you."

And as I reach out,
I hold your hand in my palm.
Removing that which is concealed.
I give you my heart in a case,
hoping you give me this alms,
and allow us to meet in affectionate embrace.
I wrote this when I had a glimpse of what would happen if I let something pass. The poem would have been written later in my life but it came to me in a vision of the future. I saw hands, my hand, typing in front of me on a computer at the library. I remembered every word. This poem is the future unless another path is taken or something is altered by an external force. Much why I never share these things. But this is proof to me that I will be married to the most beautiful man in my life and have a child that we share. Call me crazy for having random occasional bursts of clairvoyance that I don't share with people in fear of being met with either shunning and/or abhorring disputants, or opportunists and/or malevolent bystanders. Thank you.
Liberty J Mar 2018
I've got a bad case of brain fog
Maybe you should call it brain smog
Because I've got all sorts of bad thoughts
Diluting my air
And spilling into the words that I speak to you
Oh god, please hear me
You should fear me
Because soon you'll be coughing up your lungs
Don't come near me
I'll be climbing up your atmosphere
Burning up the hearts of your daughter's
Corrupting the thoughts of the
Poofy goofy white clouds of childhood
I've got brain smog
Don't let me hurt you
Quick clean up your mistake
Before mother sees the blood upon the bathroom floor
Hurry she's knocking on the door
She already knows you're a ***** *****
I've got brain smog
Look at you, you pathetic dog
You don't know how to unclog
The nasty case of brain smog
JL Mar 2018
I am going to take my life.
Adulthood and being a decent human has always been my strife.
I hurt myself, my family, and I will hurt you.
I am full of lies, nothing that I say is true.
If you know me, then there is no debate.
Most everything about me, you will learn to hate.
I hurt, sneak, cheat, and lie.
It might be best that I die.
I should probably just do some a favor.
In the choice to take my life, I will not waver.
You will only heal from my short passing.
The thought of taking my life, has only been amassing.
You gave me a chance that was taken advantage of.
Where I am headed, is not below or above.
I could not give you my all or make you my wife,
"I am going" has progressed to I have taken my life.
Emmy Mar 2018
I felt like dusk at dawn
Ambiguous and shadowed
Almost here but not there
Completely covered yet bare
Strip stripped until I was so unaware

Smoke so loud it burned yellow red
All I saw was your handprints in her bed
sketched out in gray blue with all your words left unsaid
Jagged jungle waves lapping at my ocean
My slumber sour, like I overdosed on your potion
Torn apart like rhythms lost lover motion
The Variation Feb 2018
semblant snowflakes dash across
a dotted line;
yellow picture frames eat tar.
twisted root of pine fallen,
bellowing tears that steal wind,
breathing irregular through
patchwork lungs.

humid fire tastes humour bland,
******* symbols of granite rust,
inhaling smoke through
tangled hairs in your nostrils.
Anthony Perry Jan 2018
There's distant scratching like strings on a loose violin and rain shattering against the hood of a shambling man passing me from a place I've never been.

This night seems to bring a comfortable chaos like the sound of a dying drum inside a weaning rib cage with the wind that screams through trees mimicking a wheezing child's vocal range.

Each step forward is a chant from an old god and each drop of blood is a sip from the paradigm, voices scream and hiss from the nearby fog while I climb down a mountain I've never climbed.

Bones snap and buckel while fingers curl and twist, blistering skin ***** that insects suckle and searing eyes that unfurl and wince.

There are things worse than nightmares, like an orchestra without strings or a breath without voice. Something simple to grasp but impossible to understand if you live without choice.
How much of myself do I need to give up before you want me
I am adding to a pile of bones
I don't have many fingers left, they just sit there
staring.
can't you take them?
you are off hunting your own food, Making your own bones,
so I know you need them.
maybe at least pick your teeth with them?
Please?
Next page