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Zoe taylor Dec 2024
The amethyst of her eyes writhed with maggots, laden in bile,
Spilling from the crystal in macerating clumps, thick and vile.

Squelching across her pupils, clouding her sclarea, they thrashed vehemently,
Glazing her cherubic face in the pulsing sludge of larvae beneath a peach tree.

The creatures tore apart her pores, crawling out, parasites moulding her skin,
Leaving a mottled rot gilding her features in divine black sin.
Up for interpretation but I originally wrote this piece as a metaphor for the corruption of childhood innocence and loss of naiveite. But feel free to read as you please, I'd love to hear what you think of it! <3
Aliyana Dec 2024
Will you kiss my scars?
Will you love my rot and decay too?
Crystallize me in all that’s unnatural and unpleasant.
Frame me in my ugly.
Be there when I see no light but only beckoning hands into the darkness.
Cut me your hand to hold instead of trimming the edges of my sanity.
Starve yourself with me. Starve yourself of me.
Taste me when I’m solely iron in your body,
trickling down your nose to remind you I'm there.
Feed me sugar cubes to keep the flies warm.
Wean me off the good stuff until I shame you for sharing.
Won’t you keep me sated?
Won’t you blanket your daisies in my mouth?
But what about the moths?
What about the maggots and, oh, what about the monkeys that tease you to let me go?
Let the dead go. Let her go, they say.
You won’t kiss my scars again if you knew I was dead.
Decaying won and I still love you!
I still love you.
I still love you.
How can’t I?
You loved me enough to care for the rot.
written in april. i find myself returning to this community and site after discovering it 7 yrs ago and it remains an underrated place for poets.
Kai Oct 2024
People surround me
They have a different energy than me
They drain me
They make me mentally exhausted
Too exhausted
To the point where I want to lock myself up
To the point where I don't want to wake up

I'd rather rot in my bed
Just to not be called "Special Ed"
Just to not feel pain
Again
So I don't get hurt again
So I don't get shamed again
So I don't get drained again
So I don't have to be anymore insecure
So I can feel secure
While rotting away in my bed
While the depressive thoughts evacuate my head
Saanvi Oct 2024
This town holds secrets
Don't you know?
Between the houses and their lawns,
Between the market square and suburbs,
Between the forest and the parks.
A mystery lingers
Like unsettling fog
Suffocating, deadly, murderous.
The longing silence
That draws exhales from townsfolk.
The rolling winter
That fills their hearts with dread.
For the creatures of the mountains
Come down to the haunted town
Drawing blood on sidewalks
To satisfy their frozen hunger.
The people tape their windows
And blind themselves with scissors
For they cannot bear to see the horrors.
Each season, a part of town shrinks away
Like termites eating entire wood slowly
Devouring the taste.
Soon, it will become a ruin
Uninhabited, lost in time, lonely.
What once was the American dream
Now an urban flower in a devastating jungle.
A leftover, remnant of something great, eaten away by greed,
destroyed by self hatred.
Inspired by Stephen King's novel IT and the town Derry.....
Jeremy Betts Sep 2024
She advertised everything I wanted
Upon purchase it was nothing I needed
If only there was more time allotted
The warning signs could've been heeded
With the foundation now rotted
I'm reseated all alone and resented
Not fully unexpected,
But fully defeated
Deflated and almost deleted
Then the process gets repeated

©2024
neth jones Aug 2024
they prayed for rain                  (so tired   so drained)
they wanted relief   crops    and to relive   
                   through their supporting bulbous god
the rains came    and my body tightened with itch                      
                                  the chored limbs ached
flints of pain   ticked behind the eyes
but there was so much rain            and there was flooding
cause there were no trees   to root everything together
no absorption        
but much concrete to dictate the fast flow
and then it rained like blood  and people freaked
(it was only desert pigment or algae)     and then it rained fish
but there was too much to harvest  pickle and eat                                          
                   ­                 and spoil brought stench and plenty of flies
and then it rained frogs   that weren't able to polish off the flies
          cause they'd splattered with the impact  
and then...                                                                  ­           
the praying stopped   and the people plugged up their senses
and retreated indoors all puffed
                                 and angry and pathetic
and i went out for a walk                              
          solitary   except for the thriving carrion
Jeremy Betts Jun 2024
I hang a mangled backdrop
A set prop
To keep from view
That I got
Behind the scenes rot
And there's a lot

©2024
Jeremy Betts May 2024
I wasn't bred from good stock
Or birthed with any hope of a shot
Can't imagine that coming as a big shock
Couldn't possibly hide the rot
A thick scar dug into both wrists visually express what verbally I could not
Flesh color replaced the black rorschach ink blot
To clarify, a stark reminder was all I got
KO'd after a turned cheek an awful lot
Like knock knock
Who's there?
Just a nobody,
A lowly placeholder of a single census spot

©2024
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