Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
mia 6d
shiny black combat boots grind up
a model's flower
tears stream down her face
I look up and scoff

I am heartless
babies cries make me duck them under water
it is not me but a survival mechanism
escapism will be the death of me
but death is merely a pause in the whirlwind of emotion

a basin collects the heartstrings of my victims
I am that girl
or I was before my skirts got shorter and my patience as well
I slammed a girl into a wall to feel something
she felt her skull splinter into pieces
my heartstrings were not plucked by her pleas
but her screams did a number on me
I smiled, teeth gleaming as she retched
I'd consider it my greatest accomplishment
but maybe you won't

a stream of conciseness is uninterrupted until it is
that I've learned
but maybe you haven't
you make tears mean more than the cries of my victims
even though I silence them
I relish it

you take a feathered quill
why I cannot say but
I smash it
it grows back ink and all
you say smashing
will not solve all of my problems
but it has so far i
relish my anger you attempt to
annihilate it you are my greatest enemy
fear seeps from my pores but I know
I do not fear you

you sit in a leather chair
I scoff at you
I know you are in it for the money
you tilt your glasses and I smash them repeatedly in my mind
first your glasses and then your face your nose your lips
it's ****** but that's better than intact
throwing words at me that will upheave my life

your eyes bore into my soul
I see what's behind your kind smile it is daggers
and I must stop them before they tear my limbs off one by one

the bell rings and the pastel door creaks
it sighs open with a thud but I am running home
you call after me but I am free
free from those words and cards and calming letters
I am free
I might make this a draft again, but it's just a poem, a bad one at that. I know this is long, but if you read through it that would mean the world to me!
Manuel May 6
My mind is sinking,
My ears start ringing.
Concerned eyes make a psychopath's lies.

The wind in its glory,
Tells its own story.
A crazy man's pen always shakes in his hand.

Broken lips,
Cold fingertips.
His breathing is heated, his will is defeated.

Mouth is moving,
The thought is grooving.
The action is impassive, this smile is agressive.

Sweeter than pain,
Louder than rain.
Your eyes are a calm place... as I stare at your face.
This is about anxiety. Portrays uncontrolled disbelief and pain.
jee May 2
it was all tendons;
an eyeful of baleful beating heart.

the grinding of bone on bone,
cymbals against the bloodlust melody.

rorschach in the red sheen.
kandinsky on the wall.

a crime of passion, they called it.

passion in the hartman hemisphere
and confidence in the nowak nerves.

da vinci in the veins; decorum.

remnants of condensation whispers,
a chilling zephyr tattooed in the air.

“see you in ****, darling.”
I only finger paint in shades of red.
Chris Apr 25
Larry walked to the store,
To buy a pack of smokes,
He's had enough, he want's no more,
He's sick of everything; so he walked.

He entered through a stain'd glass door,
asked for his brand and waited a while.
He saw reflections on the floor,
He saw his **** crooked smile.

He paid and was ready to head home,
but suddenly, there was a sound.
The glass broke as a brick was thrown,
and blood splattered all around.

Larry got up, his head was red,
He dragged himself out of the store,
Laughing loudly as he bled,
He lit a smoke and laughed some more.

He saw the guy who threw the brick,
Was it him,... well nevermind,
He yelled : ' Oi stop there you *****!'
And started rushing from behind.

They ran a good mile and a half,
before the guy was too weak to run,
Larry smoked and let out a laugh,
And said to his victim:'now you're done!'

Now, Larry angry as he was,
didn't go straight for the ****.
He wanted to have some fun,
And he knew then that he will.

'Kneel' he screamed at the guy,
as he drew close step by step,
'Kneel or I swear you'll die!'
He shouted out this final threat.

The guy afraid beyond his mind,
kneeled and looked him in the eye,
The kick that followed made him blind,
And he only let out a sigh.

Again the blood shed on the floor,
As Larry struck the final ******.
A man's life was here no more.
And Larry lit another smoke.
Pointless Catharsis
Sabastian Apr 19
Love is a war
Played like a game

These feelings are pawns
Marching to the flames

Burning passion blue
The blood trickles down

Who has time for fashion
When there are stains on the gown?

Her eyes weep gentle tears of blood in the cold and dead of midnight
Standing, shuttering, with the crimson stained knife in the candlelight

“I’m in love”, she whispered softly to the rag doll on the shelf
Smiling serenely, her insincerity masking her true self

With blood-stained hand and shifting eyes she lifts the butchered head
The sweet smell of death rotting intoxicating her evil spread

She slaughtered her love with the knife he gave her only the day before
All she wanted was to be with him forever and nothing more
This **** whack

Think                                             ­  h
                    Th   ink                        e
   Ov ert  hink                                  l
                    ­                                      p
   . . ...                                                

Psygopath m i  n    d                      m
                                ­                          e
   . ... .
You Didn't Just                                '
Let Me                                              m

be            ­                                          d
                     ­                                     y
Torn Like                                         i
   T                                                     g

I'm S low ly

I'm writing a small poem every day about how I feel, or the world around me. This is #14
Chloe Alias Feb 16
To my dearest

Or so it would seem

This is the closest I can get to an apology

Because if I’m being honest

Which I rarely am

I’m not sorry

Not one bit

But it’s ok because you don’t know what I’ve done

You don’t know that I feel nothing for you

You don’t know that I’ve cheated on you time and time again and felt no remorse

You don’t know how many times I’ve told you I can’t talk, or that I can’t go on a date with you

Because I always have plenty of time to spare

But I just don’t want to spend it on you

The thing that would make you cry

Is that all I ever saw you as

Was a **** on a chessboard

And I am incapable

Of seeing you as beautiful

Or loving you

Because I have come to realize

There is no beauty or love in this world

At least not for me.
Chris Feb 5
The difference:
The ****** turn to violence, because they know nothing else.
The desperate turn to violence, because they tried everyyhing else.
I turned to violence, because I was born deranged with a ****** up frontal lobe.
This I think makes me an Idol for the ****** and the desperate.
From a point of view of a deranged criminal, not personal experience, not too far from it, I am non-violent because I get some often enough.
Ian Robinson Jan 22
To lie
To cheat
To steal
All to get what I want
Sounds like psychopathy and
Narcissism put together
I care about others
But more about my own goals
Good thing i have none
I learn more about myself every day
Next page