#psychological poems on Hello Poetry

Carlo C Gomez 1d

~
Listen for the sirens
I'm on a highway
Along the perpendicular streets

Having escaped my killer
There's blood on the windshield
There's blood on my thoughts

The rush of song
I've experienced it all
Yet this is only track four

The night wind slices through
A fracture in me
Two sides of me
Must push on and away from here

Is there something happening
Inside that causes it all to melt?
To stick to the sidewalk?

To form into a river of transfiguration?
~

#darkness #violence #psychological #change #music #metaphor

Bless Kurunai 6d

Miserable un-poetic gibberish mess of a poem

“Hey you! Blame your fate and your past self for making whatever strange and downright absurd decisions that have led you to read this poem.
If you think it is going to be deep, or profound or interesting or in any way worth your time,
You are unfortunately very mistaken.”

Candlestick, both sides blaze
Still a dark room, still an unsteady gaze
Nothing to write. Pen comatose.
Melting skin, heart in froze.

“Honestly I can't take it anymore”

Darkness ahead, and nothing is new
Just move like before, known patterns and cue

“It doesn't even make sense”

Princess sleeps, cold black stone
Don't wake her up to the world unknown

“It's not a cry for help. No one can help me anyways”

You smell the coming rot
Deathly trap, mouse is destined to be caught.
Don't lament his death.
Cause it's not a ******
It's an unforeseen tragedy, that's all.
You'll fall from grace, you know you're soon to die
Why don't you go and run, and do your best to deny.
Screams of pain,
Blood and guts have made this very terrain.
Wherever you go, the world is round my dear.

“OH * NO OH * NO OH ** NO”

“Scratch that one out”

Myself standing motionless in doorways and parking,
Dead pigeons, carcasses, eyes lifeless, smile snarky,
You say write what you feel yet,
You claim you can't feel a thing
Drag marks on dry dirt, beast hungry, time to ****,
Frostbitten, white marks, death count and the phone may ring
Forget what you said, you never said a thing.

“You know? Maybe it is all my fault”

Beauty, love, pain, dandruff
Regrets creep, phasmophobe, blood altar, lose all hope.
Cardboard box, old stained floor
You speak to death as you close the door
What he said can you tell? Mitosis? Fallen angel?
You seek truth, yet you don't know what,
How truth may it look and will it hurt?
Stare blankly, to the stars, in your may, darkest night
Make your heart raise, fast cortisol trembling knee
The truth happens to be exactly what you see

I look up, with my eyes growing numb
A path shown by a piece of ****
But all I could ever see, was the horizon.
That claustrophobic horizon

#dark #psychological #gothic #depressing #existential

Seismic Nought Aug 20

Drift Dots

We’re drift dots...

Our bodies are bulletins behaving badly, running when we feel free– [afraid of our news feeds]...

With nowhere to hide, we’re learning psychological acrobatics to climb ahead of us inside...

With half our child’s eye missing, we’re mending and pretending, eyes set on our marvel...

Here, these humble bumble bees, clumsy and dignified, redefine...
Because there is more to us than our dull diaries suggest; than these pressured, parasitical playgrounds repress...

As we’re turned into clones in these city messes, we’re reminded of home in the simplest of places...

Our hyper-perceptive, cybernetic surge is tearing through us, and we’re drift dots searching, scattering timeless new love.

#dots #bodies #psychological #clumsy #scattering #timeless #searching #city

Eleonard Dante Senri Aug 12

Exesa

She sits opposite, devouring me with a delirious gaze through her fingers,
Remembering and honoring,
Not a day passes,
I am all in my efforts to cut the twisted cord binding tomorrow and yesterday,
A sticky thread of ****** saliva stretches from lips to the gravestone,
She is motionless,
Pitifully insignificant,
She is the opposite of everything natural.

I do not heed her howling,
Do not sacrifice myself in the name of love,
I do not want to know the details, I do not want to have her weaknesses,
I will wipe from the earth all coincidences, all omissions,
Misunderstood and inaccurate,
She does not dare to leave,
Afraid she will make a mistake and everything will again turn out tragically.

I will gouge out my eyes so as not to see her tears,
I do not wish to think that she suffers in earnest,
Too biased, too ugly,
There is no one here, it is time to quiet down,
But she looks without blinking, as if hoping that this beast in me will disappear.

There is no reason, and no time,
Study as much as you want the rainbow facets,
And there is no one here,
The reddish light will vanish, perish,
But she stands her ground.

#dark #trauma #surreal #psychological

Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 31

The Beast’s Offering

Glass tears dance on the lawn of dreams –
offered sweetness at hand; while the Beast
breathes fire over frost; black fur coiled in winter’s
chill, his warmth a lie dressed in comfort.

He offers blindness as a blessing, the bliss
of the thoughtless path. In the silence of white
winter, you take his claw, mistaking it for a hand.
“To die for”—a morbid metaphor— what is the gift
of a Beast meant for?

Around him, the dancing lich spins— leeches
birthed  from tombs of need. A cliff that clefts;
as a cleft lip cannot speak the truth, it only bleeds.
Closed eyes cannot paint the dark—
but they stay loyal  to its canvas.

Left bereft—travelers avoid certain subjects:
being sick of yourself, tasting your own *****.
But hush now— we’ll skip the topic. Change the
subject. And bury that scent.

As she was sent; and of all the objects she takes
from the Beast—he cures grief with a sugar-coated sting.
But bittersweet is still a shade of sweet, it rots your teeth,
and maybe he works with the tooth fairy to collect what
decay leaves behind.

But in the cold, no one heals— they run to the hills,
as their heels are clicking in panic of snow-bitten ground.
Perhaps this time, Little Red took the wrong road—
and the wolf she met, has grown hungrier from
feasting quietly on empty bones.

      ....there's no-one to save her at all.

#darkpoetry #bittersweet #beast #fairytalewithatwist #psychological #symbolism #darkmetaphors #wordplay #temptation #emotionaldecay

William A Gibson Jul 25

Twisted Symmetry

Your demons don’t play well with mine,
They bite and they bruise and entwine.
Yours weaponize tears,
Mine whisper, come near.
The chaos is purely divine.

Yours gasp for the rush of cool air,
Mine drown in your scent, flesh, and stare.
Yours vanish like shame;
Mine burn all the same,
Still lit by the hunger we bear.

We drift toward escape, dark and slow,
They bloom with our secrets and grow.
Yours pull at my seams;
Mine knot in your dreams.
A dance only demons could know.

Light limericks inspired by the psychological tension of Anne Sexton's work, who frequently explored intimacy’s darker shades.

#limerick #intimacy #duality #demons #psychological #annesexton #confessional #longing #chaos #night

Draumgaldr Jul 23

The drinking well

I walked this town with madness,
Where streets once full of gladness—
And I cried into the heavenly sky
That no sadness shall ever blow by
Upon this town of madness.

For all the churches and their bells
May ring warning about this hell,
But no bell can reach the drinking well
That drove this town to madness.

I turned around seeking that sound
That haunted every morrow—
That ripply wave that intertwines
And beckons us to sorrow.

I stood amidst this desolate town
That wore the well as its crown,
And every building knelt broken down
To hail the King of Madness.

Where warnings fail, the well still flows.
And the town, like its people, learns to kneel.

#madness #poetry #gothic #decay #myth #darkness #psychological #despair #folklore #haunting

Vazago d Vile Jul 18

Unblinking

Stand before your mirror.
Look yourself in the eye.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.

Ask the question
you fear the most.

If you dare to listen,
truth won’t lie.

Some truths don’t come from others — they come when you finally stop lying to yourself. This is not an accusation. It’s a mirror.

#truth #mirror #innerdemons #selfreflection #poetry #psychological #rawtruth #healing #unfiltered #vazagowrites

Jaiden Noviqon Jul 17

Layers Made by Man

A spark
screaming cries of a newborn,
it is given skin that can be
remade or destroyed.

Man opens its mouth
muttering from its lips
that is forced into our canvas--
labels, beliefs,
aesthetics, morality,
culture, and flavor.
Most stand on this layer,
not know what may
be below our comfortable heels.

When man becomes curious,
the layer fades slowly,
as we fall.
Laws, materials,
perspectives, awareness,
theories, and religions.
This is the layer where most of us--
are comfortable,
yet we fear what may be below us.

When man becomes critical,
the air feels suffocating
to the point our feet
feel the sweat
that comes from the skin.
The layers fades slowly
as we fall.
Self, i,
conscious, subconscious,
desire, and ideals.
This layer is full of
echoing screams of despair.
Below us is what truly trembles
one's soul,
one's realm,
one's given meaning,
and one's identity.

When man becomes unusual,
a middlemist red blooming in isolation,
the layer fades slowly
as we fall.
Nothing,-
but a lonely man
in a small collective chamber.
We only have the choice to either;
fade away to the end,
stay in the absurd,
or create out of raw energy.

There is no noise,
no man's truth,
no sunshine,
and no home.
Above all is what was created by man.
There is only a
naked space that spews fear at us,
so harsh and cruel that we try to stay above it
as a way to escape from it;
wrap it in lies,
or stare at it.

And yet here,
something still follows us,
something that we carry within us,
the core that made us man,
our emotions that remain within,
experiences that pass through our senses,
memories that live like bubbles,
nature that gives us warmth that arrived long before us,
beauty that we tell from our eyes and how we feel,
harmony that keeps us together through a zigzag string,
and love, which enables all and make us go coo-coo.

Bit by bit,
the void reveals countless meanings
that are above the bottom.
The ones, that have existed, or are reshaping and reforming,
the ones, that keeps us alive,
the ones, that truly makes us,-
fear death itself--
unless numbed.

#existentialism #identity #selfawareness #philosophy #consciousness #psychological

Viktoriia Jun 24

to be gone

you don't mind it if it hurts,
as long the medicine takes over
at the right time.
you don't want to die,
but you often wonder
what it would be like to try.
living in reverse,
with every step forward
you just make it worse,
de-escalating and digressing
at an equal pace.
one more for the list of errors,
pin it on the board,
watch yourself lose another race.
you don't mind the shame,
but you loathe the side of you
that it brings out.
you don't want to drown,
but you often wonder
what it would feel like to be gone.

#people #life #death #depression #suicide #psychological #loss #digression #disappointment #failure