Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Thin skin,
Self infliction;
Melancholy oozing
From my pores
Like a leaky bandage.

Self esteem,
What a dream
To feel like someone
Beautiful, instead of
Feeling invisible.

Feel like ****,
What a trip.
Do I look just
As lovely
Wearing all my wounds?
Happiness is Karma’s sidekick.
A cruel twist of fate
Where you find everything you
Ever wanted and it’s
Ripped from your chest like
A bandage.

I don’t remember
What I’ve done to deserve
My fate. Karma
Surely gets hers, but
Happiness refuses
To love me back.
Lace Sep 22
Hands
All over me
Up and down
In and out
Breathing faster
That's no doubt
Love me raw
Make me pout
Maddie Sep 12
How is it
When you’re lost
Alone
Trembling
Scared
I can’t be there?
And why does it make me so angry?
So hurt
It touches me physically
Head throbbing
Stomach lurching
The bellyache of despondency and guilt.

Contact or combat?
You shouldn’t have to fight for your life or your rights
You need to be free
Come be here
Be with me
You’ll be safe I promise
Just lay in my arms and sleep
Peace

Peace when we’re alone
Nobody else in this whole world
Just me and your eyes
Those beautiful eyes
And your smile
Those lips
Those soft lips
And your hands holding mine
Head to head
Heart to heart
The beat like drums on fire
But a million butterfly wings just the same

How is it that for you I feel all the emotions
Infinitely
When I can’t even feel them for myself?
Day and day I spend as one empty canvas
Emotionless
Dead batteries
But suddenly
You talk and my brain lights up
Sparks an explosions of color
Say anything
Say everything

Your words paint me a blue sky
A lightning storm
A tsunami
A crackling fire
Leaves on the trees
Birds on the branches
Take that oak and build me a house of color
Take me in and never let me go

Because of you I know it all
Each emotion hits so brutal and raw
Burning
Or calming
The waves crash on the sand
Or the wind blows through my hair so swiftly as I breath in the taste of paradise

Don’t take this wrong
You don’t make me mad
You give me vital emotions of life
I could never be mad
Not at something that shows me the beautiful thoughts
****, strangling, happy, sad, overwhelming, beautiful
Because these are the living emotions
And I lived without them for so long
Elusive eyes,
Hold my gaze,
Look me over
A little slower.

Entwined in rich
Belonging,
Moonflower vines
Blooming,
Follow their DNA twist.

Seductive eyes,
Follow my gaze.
Hold me slower,
Just a little longer.
Ackerrman Aug 30
The remnants of my intelligence and dignity,
John can take to his grave,
I just wanted to fight, for what was right
But was swallowed in a wave of reality.
I once tried to hold out idealism,
To have it smashed in a thousand pieces,
I thought that people should care for each other,
To be told it wasn’t economically viable.

To another best friend that never really cared,
I loved you more than you will ever know,
You were one of the hardest people I ever let go,
But you used me and abused me just like everyone else,
Pretended to care and dictated fair,
I was blinded by delirium,
And could not see, that the beautiful trees,
Were plastic, lifeless and cold.
/
The music is beginning to sound like silence,
I keep getting the melody stuck in my head,
I forgot how it began and can’t see past
The first verse, but I know the album artwork:
A man in a hearse- the picture looks familiar,
I feel like I was there, somewhere, floating through air,
The beat is inconsistent and I can’t find anything I like,
It just passes right through me.
/
The field where we buried Pete’s ashes,
Will be forever green to me,
It glows with his smile and snowy white hair,
But no one remembers he’s there!
And those that do pass over the spot without a care,
But the light of the world seems darker
Without his wonderful wintery hair.
When you laughed, I laughed and when you smiled- I felt safe.

Of course, to you- my love, the ever lingering
Hopeful lady of my earth. My feelings were always true,
I longed for you with depth of colour unknown,
To any time or place I would have flown,
But just like you said,
You were incapable of love- nothing but spite,
You pulled out my brittle heart out and ****** it.
You hurt me more than I hurt myself.

And how- I hurt myself- delved into a rabbit hole,
That I was too young to be ****** down,
I cut my mind on razor sharp thoughts:
Potential- and felt like a failure.
I could not sleep for the longest time, I was kept awake
By a tear-soaked pillow that reeked with the fumes of alcohol,
I would lay awake all night long
And scold me for being too stupid.
/
The smallest of spotted and winged bugs,
Can’t set foot on the cusp of my shoelace,
The keenest eyed falcon, misses the outline of fragility,
Cold and stagnant sensation, carried on the wind,
Does not reach my eyes,
Or make the duct empty,
Roaring shrieks run through my ears,
Cowering or apathetic eyes can’t set fire to these fears.

I am so sorry to the smallest of you winged creatures,
You won’t understand- probably ever,
But know that I never meant to cause you pain,
You look at the world through such a small scope,
Please don’t ask me how I struggle to cope,
You are one of the reasons I fought the dark for so long,
To start out- you looked at me and I thought you would understand,
But you turned out uniform- blind and deaf and dumb.
/
I can’t tell you the depth of these memories,
In the garden, where a voice spoke to me so smooth,
And sweet and petals and aroma seemed to float
On breezes heralded with happy sparks, buoyant
Through seas of troubles, until those troubles dock
In a harbour that I wrecked, degrading in grief,
Sweet flowers have been rotting in time and now
The words that were music are now virus, reckoning every moment.
/
My brother refuses to wear his glasses now,
He says he can’t see anything clearly anymore,
For the tears won’t tear themselves away
From the rocky, half dead, sunken terrain, sees
The light of day less often than flesh eating worms,
Sharp teeth grin and the rose-coloured memory
Of playing football in the park after dark,
Or cricket on the old wicket- I hope you miss me the most- I would you.

I flew to my mother’s house,
But she wasn’t home; I let myself in,
Looked over the empty wine bottles,
Stacked in pairs, so they each have a friend.
The pictures on the walls are all forty years old,
And the characters are all face down,
I can’t pick them up,
The image of agony is plastered to the floor with no one to adore.

My father’s tools are all strewn in the garden,
Plugged in without power- hiding round corners, they cower,
The shaky lawn mower cried internally,
Because all it could do was cut the ****** grass,
But could not cut the ties of familiarity,
With tiresome fire, turning the content to ashes.
The door to the shed is always a jar,
The boards are flayed and splintered with paint, dripping to the floor.

Sitting silently in this empty old house,
The creaking of the floorboards seem to know me,
Old memories bounce from hall to wall,
Like an echo of the stagnant fury, that reverberated
From still wall and whispering grief,
Words of narcissism curl in on themselves,
Fatter and nastier than a thousand-pointed needles
Or razorblades, smiling delicately on cupid’s bathroom floor.

Dragging stains and paints across a happy little corridor,
Smiling at a pattern of pure undeniable psychopathy,
A vibrant and living testament to a society,
Cruel and frowning, scolding the colour,
It doesn’t matter what colour!
The deepest shade of purples melts into
Dried crimson mess congealed and defeated on the floor,
No deviance from black, white and grey anymore.
/
My footfall does not make a sound.
Nor does my form disturb the gentle snowflakes.
From falling straight down through the empty air,
No blades of grass twist or move from their
Position of placid translucence.
I feel cold as people walk straight through,
The ethereal outline of my faded countenance.
Shivering shade of something real.
/
The conversation of the officer at the station:
“I can’t say the details of the death were
At any detriment to the case,
He stopped living and fell off the face of the earth,
A simple, open and closed case”
I stare hopelessly through the veil,
As the man put down his phone,
And entered suspended animation.
This was a dark couple of weeks I spent working on this
OLIVE KROSS Aug 29
you traced the curves on my body
feeling the texture of my skin
hot and cold
fast and slow
day turned to night
weeks turned to months

left me goosebumps
left me frozen.
September was a
Porcupine kiss.
My tongue, swollen
And aching to
Spill these words
And thoughts
And feelings
On why it hurts to talk.
My lips, fat and
Speckled in ruby,
September is a jagged
Blade, rusted by
Memory and
"Why did you go?"
September tasted like
Pennies and
Smelled like morning breath.
It sounded like
Grinding teeth and
I couldn’t move for days.
September felt like
Stagnation.

Until I saw the color,
And it was like
My eyes were brand new.
Another who could see
Them in his own way
Lifted some of the
Burden.
He’s a reminder to exhale,
To appreciate the loss
Of the ones we love;
The poster child of
This type of pain.
So I breathe,
And September is here
Again.

But now September
Tastes like sweet *** and
L&M, the gemstones
Kissed from my lips.
September smells like
Warm sheets and apples,
And it sounds just
Like your laugh.
September is a
Drunken kiss and
101 "I love you’s",
And even that isn’t
Enough to express
How much it all means.
September feels like
Celebration,
As it should have felt.
Meadow Aug 21
Summer is coming soon to an end.
A bittersweet summer.
One that has aged me to wise. Solemnly, I stand welcoming and allowing.
Loosened grips, blood returns to white knuckles.
Numbed fear, but wild excitement.
Random 1 minute poem: raw
Hourglasses and volcanic eruptions;
Stop time for passion this strong
Next page