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you are a lab rat,
dancing in their labs,
through you they *** to conclusions.

You turn them from ***** to holy,
Every morning they turn saint.

It's sad how you have turned a naked god,
Cleaning possessed men.

Immoral lab experiments
Men are tresh.
Lynnia Sep 2018
There’s a ghost inside my skin
Basking in my sin
Wearing me like a dress

She took over my soul
Swallowed me whole
Left me in distress

I tried to launch an attack
Grabbed her hand, pulled her back
But she pushed me back inside

Now she wears my charms
Says she doesn’t mean me harm
Still, the other me has died

She lied.
Kellin Aug 2018
my skin is hot. fevered. demanding
to be soothed. touched. satisfied.

have i gone crazy? i have never, ever
done such a thing. never unlocked
this private room inside of me. never
ever wanted to take a look inside.

am i possessed? entered by a demon,
chained and padlocked, inside of myself?
i feel possessed, taken by some evil,
sick desire. desire i can’t control.

what is wrong with me? i don’t want
this. oh god. it can’t feel good.

but it does.
it does.
Peter Balkus May 2018
Wherever I look,
I can only see
people possessed
by technology.
N O V A Apr 2018
i see you
in colours
that don’t
exist at all.

— N O V A | p o s s e s s e d
Bambi Apr 2018
Twinkling stars reflect in his deep blue iris,
He’s possessed by the stars he said,
As I to him,
Nothing but him and I, and time in our hands to spend it with,
Nothing but the world we flick and kick in a blink,
Nothing but him and I.
Fortune Cookie Maxim Minimizes
(alternately titled “markedly welcome matt and luke warm john.”)  

i agonizingly dutifully didst wait
to distract anticipatory anxiety,
(analogous to an expectant father)
while protracted procedure promised
nothing short of a millennium,

whereby echoing thru the corridors of time
olly olly gluten free ranging NON GMO, oxen
oiled lubricated cloven hoof
nsync cup aided toot tune to clacking choppers
activated after this chap dialed up favorite eats
using latest vaunted communications device

(forced to shout over din o'er
loud grumbling within bowel
of abdominal anatomical beast)
commenced manifold upon ordering repast
magically appeared, low
and behold an appetizer tete a tete

via tony Apple iPhone X ‑ 256 GB ‑ 
Silver Verizon amazing piece de resistance, 
sans technological fetes
with CDMA/GSM ring tones,
where a pleasant fecund female bot tilled voice didst greet

prepping, priming, promoting
Crowded house special of the Green day
dis "FAKE" kin lister eagerly
awaited: salivating, simulating ****** soothing
sans savory souffle
the first culinary ******* savory dish,

after aye parked, positioned, and plunked gluteus
near swinging doors leading into kitchen,
where this word maven strategically
dip posited said maximus to attempt
futile gastronomic endeavor
tum maximize tempering torturous tenacious
devastatingly deadly assault steaming enemy

disarmed disguised, and dismantled,
resplendent redolent redoubt
digitally remastering nondiscerning indistinct aromas
to supper esse overwhelming paroxysms to gorge
putting a ritzy lid on heated fiery dogged
craving powder milk dog biscuits

(an impossible mission), where oozing,
licking, insinuating filaments
commingled as cutthroat nemesis cooly whipped
devastatingly weeknd x2c;
wickedly wafting, seducing, satiating, and salivating

courtesy olfactory foramen, deflecting incessant onslaughts
induced famished fellow to reevaluate, relinquish,
and revisit his Weltanschauung soup per bowl, 
while simultaneously commandeering cutlery
to attack, besiege, conquer

condemning delegate of China ware without tea zing,
thence indiscriminately marshaling choppers
to set up base camp at Oral-B
(heeding flying pie warnings, where shewing
should desserts foe ment Hunger)

eggs sauce er baited onslaught of herbaceous,
fabulous delicious culinary cuisine aromatic eats
thoroughly teasing growling stomach
steeping interminable suspenseful,
seven star Michelin magicians

empowered to transform most anything (such
as bilge water, road **** or septic tank)
gourmet experienced huckster longingly *****
doubled as famished Norwegian Bachelor farmer,

equating odoriferous garbage truck
on par suckling swollen teats
patience caved to restrain noshing
impaling his strict credo on dustbin of his story
never again *** chew gnawing
even knuckles sandwich of fingers or toes

squishy human digits texture of imported dates
which hunger pangs lesson,
do justice doth minimally satiate afterwards,
a restauranteur hoof hall hues highbrow opinion,
hence a short survey about ambience, yours truly will rate

perhaps unwise of an every Jimmy John Joe gourmand
tubby biased after an apple ala carte blanch
preceded with delicious hors d'oeuvre high marks
more nerve wracking than going on a blind date.
And of course with enticing forkful of flagrant food
Beep ping Update complete disrupted first mouthful.
Sombro Oct 2016
So it's night
So it's dark
So it's quiet
So am I.

Bathed in electric shadow
I push blues and whites
In cream curdled from clouds
And shades of grey and green.

In politics and paint you're born
'Welcome to the world.
You're going to make someone very happy.'

So how many days
Can you spend in nights?
Let me know, faithless print
For eyes watch us, praying fondly.

I get confused, often
Spraxically distopic in a utopian person
We'll succeed together
We'll fly on splinted wings.

I can write love poems too, you know,
But I'm only here for the future
So let's wait, together
And work for something we still breath for.

I'm here for you being here for me
And I grow branches in the night's silence.
An ode to breathlessness
And the chill of flush for the quiet.
A mixture of feelings in this one. It's late. I love painting. I'm optimistic for my future, but only if I work hard enough for it. This is a message to myself. Possessed.
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