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Anais Vionet Dec 2020
You made me rub you
I didn't want to do it
I didn't want to do it

You paid me **** you -
I was so scared I'd do it
You always knew I'd do it

You made us happy sometimes
you made us sad
the twisted world you made, Jeff
You treated us so bad.

You made me fly for
The island where you kept us
and all your friends slept with us.

We wanted something newwwww
Yes, It's true, 'deed we knew
You know we knewwwww

Giving, Giving, Giving, Giving what you lied for
there are some things rich men commit
- perverted crimes for...

You know you made me rub youuuuuuuu
.
.
.
*We just finished the documentary. the case is complicated, the case is simple. The story is as old as the bible.
From a comic routine I saw: "The difference between a man and woman's *** drive is like the difference in throwing a bullet and shooting it." Which may be why this mystifies me. Why doesn't the rich guy get a mistress or two?
Taylor Nov 2020
I hear it from the distance you forced between us
The crack of your dignity
Followed by silence
And the feeling of sinking regret
You force the words “I love you” out like bile
And when I leave them there
To be washed away by tomorrow's rain
You push my face into them like a dog you’re trying to train
You can not coerce my love out of me
Unrequited affection isn’t a hurdle  
Or a suggestive yellow light to just blow through
Because you’re going too fast to stop yourself
Obsession is not something to romanticize
I am not moved by the extreme acts
Your perilous behavior is making it strenuous
To trust your negotiation of friendship
When I recoil away from your touch
And cower from your drunken pleas for adoration
I am petrified by the incitement you receive
As if my feelings are meaningless compared to your needs
I have tried to get the point across
But you shy away from the truth
You’re infatuation with the idea of me
Leaves you with the misconception that this can be real
Kamilla Nov 2020
Uncontrollable, useless and pain inducing
A required repetition, which reaps false acceptance
Temporary high, but will end up leaving
Alone, alongside your filthy arrogance

A painstaking process follows,
One of which could have been prevented
Living with your disgusting self wallows
Realization of your careless actions, becoming discontented

Obsession has rendered you worthless,
And henceforth you’ll forever live, knowing you deserve this
Aleka Nov 2020
I'll give you my heart,
fresh from my chest;
after all,
it only beats for you.

I'll give you my lungs,
traquea and all;
'cause every time I see you,
you take my breath away.

I''l give you my brain,
empty my head;
it makes me think about you,
every moment at any time.

I'll give you my eyes,
straight out of my sockets;
in the end,
I only have them for you.

I'll give you my legs,
bend them to your liking;
'cause if you tell me,
I'll go anywhere for you.
Just a quick thing I did. I kinda used love poem clichés, but combined them with something gore. Not my favourite poem, but I like it.
Halley Oct 2020
When your figure strikes me
I can only become one thing
Your humble servant, a devotee
With you as my enchanting king

Fascination flows through my veins
Only a scattering thoughts remain
The bewitching way you impel me to care
Or how brazenly you cause me to stare

Delusions will cloud my senses
I’m gazing through rose colored lenses
As I follow in your footsteps
But never close enough to vex

Either way I’m invisible to you
Never to be heard always out of view
My fixation must be felt from afar
So others don’t think me too bizar

It is known that what I feel
Is not to be confused with affection
As I sit here having to conceal
My indefinite obsession
Amber K Oct 2020
Obsessions.
They are what keep my brain from the trauma.
From the darker side.
In school I was the weird girl,
the one who talked about the things she loved too much.
The one who couldn't just LIKE something.
Whether it was a band or movie,
I would obsess.
I'd find a song I loved,
and overplay it until my ears would bleed.
I'd read a book,
only to read the same book five more times right after.
I began to think I was just a strange person.
I just had obsessive tendencies.
Then I notice something...
These obsession always spark after something bad happens,
or after my brain decides to go to dark place.
These obsessions are my minds way of protecting itself.
Because it's much nicer to obsessed over a band,
or a movie no one else cares about,
than to sit and dwell on all the awful turns life could take.
So let me obsess.
Let me be weird.
It's for my own good.
This pretty much speaks for itself. This year has been pretty traumatic for me, so my obsessive tendencies have been set to high. A friend and I were just talking about how were both obsessing over this band and mainly the lead singer, even though we've now about them for YEARS. I told her I think it's because we've both been in a negative place mentally, and this is our brains way of keeping the bad thoughts out. Because it's much easier to let me brain think about this band than to think about the two friends I lost to suicide this year or the million other things my brain decides to stress me out about daily.
Francie Lynch Oct 2020
"Write, edit, re-write.
Post, edit, repost."
My finger prints are fading fast;
I thought they were here to last.
They used to linger where I'd please;
I've lost them now on laptop keys.
Julia Oct 2020
i put on vertigo today
to relate to the slow flooding of green
i came to the circling score
remembering how I used to get slapped
when scotty embraces made-over judy
i couldn’t help but cry as i fear
i want to be made-over too
in someone else’s image
Natasha Monica Oct 2020
You smell like a wet wood-
Freshly watered with rain;
Dried up by the crisp of the wind;
And golden shade of sunlight peeking through the leaves.

You reminded me the sonnets of Shakespeare-
Classic, romantic, and deep.
I swam into your thoughts but was drowned-
A renaissance man; I cannot fathom.

You sounded like a heavy rain-
Pouring carelessly on the hot tin roof;
I could listen to it, ceaselessly-
Under the white blank sheets on a lazy Sunday.

You tasted like the last drop of coffee;
Dripping through my throat, s-l-o-w-l-y.
Wanting for more-thirsty for the unknown.
A strong bittersweet addiction.
This is the continuation of my first poem called "The Prologue".
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