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inkedsolace Dec 2024
That rush of euphoria fighting into our head,
Jolt of adrenaline creeping to the places we tread,
Reckless actions thrown up for the sake of this sensation,
What more can this be called...
but a poison created of our own volation?
Eve Dec 2024
In shadows where the silence screams,
He feeds the dark within my dreams.
A twisted thought, a cruel delight,
Lust and death entwined in night.

"Stop," I beg, but he won’t relent,
His hunger deep, his mind is bent.
"Then I'll die," he dares declare,
If I deny what’s in the air.

A hunger sharp, a hunger vile,
It drags me closer, mile by mile.
No love, no light, just bitter need,
A poison spread on which we feed.

No soft caress, no gentle plea,
Just bodies chained, both wild, yet free.
In that dark dance, we both pretend,
That death could sever, but it won't end.

The lines are blurred, the rules ignored,
Where lust and death are both adored.
A secret pact, a dangerous game,
In twisted pleasure, no one’s to blame.

-fir.m
Oh to have this...
Rubianne Foster Dec 2024
I was the blossom on the vine, warmed by the sun. Awaiting my fruiting.
I was the grapes smashed beneath your feet. Left alone in the dark, waiting.
While time ate away at me, while forgotten, I became desired.
I am the wine in your cup.
Dark and drying, your senses dulling.
Creating a world unknown to you.
Drink slowly, can you truly handle the poison you created?
Man Nov 2024
When one self-medicates,
Sometimes they grab the nostrum
Rather than the cataplasm.
Trying to clean the well, they mistake belladonna for myristica.
Perhaps it was the region or the season,
Maybe the water table atop which they were building.
Were it a town,
Perhaps its citizen lacked hygiene
Or had no care to maintain things.
Maybe they sparsely talked things over
And thought little of one another.
Of the many circumstances,
It could've been the building materials
Or the architects.
The dictates we lay out
For ourselves and those around us
Rarely are truly followed
In the case of relations between each other,
And typically less so
In the case of the larger world.
But we keep trying!

Inspired by a comment from another poet, badwords.
:)
Magda Nov 2024
I am my father’s daughter.
His blood flows in mine.
I feel the cursed liquid run through my body,
with every beat of my heart.

It’s like gasoline,
slowly poisoning me –
as it did to him.
My clock reminds me,
with every tick –
“Not much time left!”

There is no escape.
The enemy is inside me,
hunting me down –
just another fallen soul in his way.

I watch myself in the mirror,
my father’s face looks back at me.
I hate what I see, just as much
as I hate him.

But he was just a child once too.
Feeling the same poison run,
through his fragile body.
I pity him.
But I do not forgive.
Some feelings on generational trauma.
morningdew Nov 2024
What is love, you ask?
you ask what this all means?
You're asking me to try and find
Where this love is?

Some say, it's simple
they say it's very plain
Some say it's like deadly poison
with lots and lots of pain

Some say

Love comes to you
Unless, you reach out first
Try to keep it in your heart
Your heart itself will burst

Some say, yes

Love will come
It will be right here
But try to catch it with your hands
And love will disappear

Some say

You can chase it
Not knowing when to stop
You may run right past
forgetting what it even was

You can spend your life
running after love
Never knowing, it's left behind
Not in front

What is love, you ask?
I cannot say
As I have yet to feel
Such love come my way
Klenarchi Oct 2024
Your promises are like roses
Your hands are like knives
A drug I'll take in small doses
knowing it took many lives

A promise with a wounding thorn
Coax me 'cause your caress incises
An ecstasy was born in a human form
and I'm consumed by its noxiousness
EdgarAllenPoetry Oct 2024
Slop
in the trough.
Poison cough.
Shattered femur.
No dreamer.
In a world of crime
It is
Time
Think
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