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Chris May 31
I am rabid,
I'm enraged,
I no longer
have a cage,

I am rabid,
I am starved
I am old
and full of scars,

I am rabid,
I'm awake,
I am here,
so is my ache,

I am rabid,
I am mad
I will bite
and I am sad,

I am rabid
I will spread,
I will make sure
that you're dead.
Well.........
stopdoopy Dec 2018
Any time I think of her
my jaw locks
and my teeth press
into a viscous snarl
as if I've become some beast

And I would bite
with words I've held tight
sinking teeth into flesh
and getting it where it hurts

Maybe I am a rabid animal
who's too dangerous to trust
but what does that mean when
you're the one who made me this way
Poetic T Jun 2016
My incoherent rantings upon this white,
tainted by my virulent thoughts expelling out.
I leap at echoes of what may have been cognitively
expelled but never given true form.

"I just lingered my mind in the air like a net catching
stray speculations that were never musing,


I never understood why infuriated wording
was not given form, why I lingered outside my
window like a peeping tom. Waiting for those
Drifting inconsolable lost thoughts never given form.

Some were so sullen a tear would edge closer to
my yearning of falling but then I'd catch and devour
it. Swallowing that sorrow to feel that pain needed
to ink better vocabulary then I had penned before.

"I hear things in the night, feverish dreams of inscribing,

I understand my conclusion of what I am spilling in
irrational contemplations, that wield meaning of
what should lucidly be realized within my words.
But my ink is waved upon as to complex in thought.

"I am a man with no water yet I am drowning,

Can I be enthusiastic in my wonderings of captured words,
expelled but never used. I hoard them within me, so others
may not take what I thought what I took from the breeze.
I think I'm cognitive, but others think I'm rabid in inducing.
Wednesday Aug 2015
You found out I called you crazy,
but to be fair you were the same man who
stabbed himself on purpose and
picked at wounds just to see how well the scars held up
under your knife.

The same man who woke up with bruises for hands and
bourbon for breath.

You always slept with your eyes open,
glazed over like a snake ready to strike.
You said this was from spending 19 years locked in a cage
like a feral animal.
I see that didn't teach you anything.
Some beings can never be rehabilitated;
they should have never released you back into the wild.

You picked roses because they reminded you of your dead mother
and once you made me talk to her ashes
and afterwards you threw me on your pool table
and made a mess of me.

You said it was for your memory,
I used it for my art.

You would cut me up for fun and stalk me for pleasure.
You say bourbon and *** makes you feel real again.
You would always tell me I was too pretty for you and
we would laugh along to gory movies until our eyes half closed in drunken lust and all I wanted to do was drink from you.

You would lock your door and turn on the fairy lights
and touch me real slow and hard until I became cold from the
beating of your heart next to mine.

You always said you were going to leave,
I never thought you'd just disappear
and still be 5 minutes away from me.

You are a ghost that I wish would haunt me a little more often
because I am reduced to ashes now just like your cremated mother.

You turned me rabid and mean.

You never told me how to make this stop.
I just keep bleeding from the wounds you left.

You turned me into the same animal you are.

— The End —