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Mysidian Bard Jan 2017
It started as a puncture,
but the seam slowly ripped;
a thimble can't protect
from a poison needle tip.

She tried to mend it
by making more holes;
the tear only grew
and grew out of control.

At the spinning wheel
her life would quickly dwindle;
frantic attempts to hem
were depleting the spindle.

What started as a puncture
of seductive sedation
fueled the abuse
of machined perforation.

"Don't mourn a living corpse"
were the last words she said
as she drew the needle
that held the last thread.
Meg Dec 2016
sewing the open wounds shut
hurts just as much
as the wounds themselves
cait-cait Oct 2016
Little needle face,
With a long pink dress and teeth
Too big for your mouth,
You are but a doll
with a back breaking slouch and
chest made from cotton//

your
Little needle hands
the machine that
stitched yourself
Together, the twine that
holds your heart
In place a
Jagged knot of
Cage and wire.

Little needle girl,
with a button nose and stringy
hair,
Please
***** all your tormentors
The way I could never ***** mine,
And
never grow your body
Back
for every little girl who's been tormented. we were just children. Poem is eh
Poetic T Sep 2016
There were whispers among those that heard
echoes through others voices.
Spilling vacant lots of urban mythes of what was
perpetrated in different places but never was an
ounce of truth weighted upon breath.

I had a spoken version of what I was envisioned as.
One had been a breath away from my features, I had
let him linger in a purgatory of thoughtlessness to
who or what was being purposed on this moment then
he became a architect of my latest art form or death.

[The Hang Man]
Before I let him speak his truths I had ended his momentary
glee at the thought of my expulsion. We cant have that can
we, I'm an urban myth of what was perpetrated on the
fictitious thoughts of others belief that they were but an
ending of what had lead to this inevitable closure.

Now silent gazes I look at, each and all see that blink in
dejection of what is inevitable. I give them a moment of
saturated hope hands stretched out as if to help,
but there terminal in this existence and I play that final
grim moment of what is another note in my book of what befells.

This is no different, he was a moment of relaxation on my
imaginative moment, he was a tapestry of creation, a choke
hold of no trauma was the recipe of his unconsciousness.
I prodded his stomach in playful jest, wakey, waskey
dead man walking, or barely standing shoud I say.

I spoke words only heard once different upon those l looked upon

"Can your breath escape the suffocation of this knot
that lingers around my life,


[Needle work]
Like a moment frozen, erasing the time between the realities
of contemplated normalcy and the fractured whispers of
imagery that stains my mind. I see the world in a perspective
of not colours but emotions and I step off the precipice of
reality and I see clearly.

"I am a kite flying on the ceiling of my coffin,

But everything that rises must fall, collapsing beneath the
boot of authenticity, and vibrate motifs shatter to behold
existence, I tremble under the offence of the rope that binds
me as death smiles in satisfaction of my eagerness to rise above.

Telling me that I am but a needle in the tread of wasted time,
I am a balloon punctured with feathers and I am exhausting
his time as I linger between the steps of here and nothingness.
Awaking in a hospital bed I vow to never be here again.

Its tied around my arm, and I'm vacant, sober of regret but I
must rise like the kite I am, flying above morality I will never
fall. Until an aroma of disillusion lingers and my string is finally cut.
I am not embraced in deaths palm, instead I am a patchwork
of regret and for eternity its sewn into my fibre I am no longer a kite.

[Pills Drowning The Silence]
I wonder around the halls of my mind, looking in rooms of
forgotten memories the faces scratched out and vacant.
I speak to them asking why did you do this, and as the
deformed emotion looks at me no visible motion but
laughter reverberates through my mind and I grasp at
my mind and scream in censorship of those in ear shot.

I count them on the side like sheep over a white cloud that
covers them in the bottle 1-2-3-4-
                                                      ­  5-6-7-8-9-10...
                                           ­  40-9-38-37-36
So many sheep that wish to be jump from that bottle to
my waiting taste buds. Sugar coated moments fall like
raindrops down my oesophagus coalescing in the
pit of my remorse. I feel them fizzing away bubbling away
in my memories and I giggle in as my eyes stretch open
and time slows down and I hear the voices in my head clapping.

Oh well, everything is a moment and mine is slowing down
and I can actually sleep peacefully, not be tortured by the
concussion of repeated images of your motions in my head.
I smile, I haven't done that for so long anger was my angel
and she cut deep into others. I hear these singular words.

"I ingest the purity of the world and slumber evermore,

[When The Flames Consumed]
I looked into the word that lingers between light and darkness
I saw only the reasoning that all obscurity was a moment of
purity that became blistered and corroded. Liquid was just air
in fluidic form, Untaintedness but when it became enveloped
upon my being I was drowning between the voids.

I was neither alive or dead, I was submerged in the suffering,
screams that echoed around my form but nothing was exhausted
from me. But others that were sieged on the sight before them,
I told them my sorrow, telling them with the formation of light.
Without a word I was enveloped in the words of chastity.

"I am but ash in the flames of my agony,

I watched the others that never knew I perceived what they
were going through, they were my "suicide kings,
I treasured ever moment of their ending and the suffering
they endured was not be questioned, but they were kings
upon the bones of men. My offerings never suffered they
were kings in the thrones of pain and now they are free....
894w
Her stiff hands held
a needle and a thread
look up to her eyes
they are open doors
not white but deep red
wipe your tears, she said
wipe my dry eyes,
I am unsteady, unhinged
I have no tears to shed

-Kaya
she was once so beautiful.
her skin would glow,
her laugh was contagious,
her presence in a room would never be unnoticed.
but then.....
pain...
so much pain filled her life in such short time,
she lost control
and she lost herself.
she decided numbness
would be better
than feeling all together.
she concealed the scars on her hands.
her secret wonderland would be her escape.
the sting of the needle,
the rush of pure nirvana....

she is no longer beautiful.
her skin clings to her bones,
thirsty for a fix, hungry for the sting.
her presence is still noticed by others,
but the glares now radiate disgust.
she doesn't notice,
she is too numb to understand my pain,
she is too lost to feel my tears,
and she is too far from my reach
for me to
save her.
As I close my eyes
to free myself from the suffering
of the external world
everything stops except
for the sound that
we don't hear during the day,
the tick tock,
The one that follows another, tick tock
I can hear it again,
again, again and again
it never stops
for it's the life of the clock
like the soul of a hollow body
life continues, as the needle moves
away from its past
tick tock, tick tock, tick to-
JR Rhine May 2016
My grooved waxy skin
wraps around the swivel chair
eyeing the needle
Pauline Morris May 2016
Your soul's obscene
The worst I've seen
Your soul's to putrid
It's been polluted
Your soul's turned rancid
It's stagnant and placid

You are a travesty
An unforgivable tragedy
Stick that needle in your arm
Anything that harms
Pop those pills
You have no self will

Continue doing what you do
But you can count on this, I'm through
The smell of death surrounds you
Your choices are growing few
I'm tired of being on the wall, the fly
Just sitting here watching you die
Vamika Sinha Mar 2016
one glance

and a story starts
spinning
on the turntable

your heart -
the needle dropped
'coup de foudre' is the French expression for 'love at first sight'. Its literal meaning is 'strike of lightning'
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