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Smara May 10
"Be bold instead of broken."

Piece by piece
I created my Heaven.

Each time you entered;
took something from my garden.

Keep coming and keep going,
in an endless loop.

Rotting everything,
whatever comes to your way,

A voice SHOUTED from inside.
Don't give all to someone, who ignore your efforts and love.
Be careful.
"Be bold instead of broken."
Sn8 May 9
I'm the little seed trying to grow from inside out,
Your ugly is showing, trying to contain the sprout
The perfect little facade of yours
The red strawberry pores
Will get bitter as the time rolls about
Not even having tried to figure me out
Sara Feb 3
I could stare at myself in the  mirror for hours.

It starts in my extremities.
a chill creeps its way into my abdomen,
and cements my joints.

The bacteria residing in my intestines
dine on my organs for supper,
they blow up my stomach until I'm
pregnant with air, my non-existent baby
forcing thick liquid out every orifice.

It tickles,
when the flies visit my rotted skin.
Their steps light and playful,
turn sinister, and force their way into my
open mouth to lay their eggs.
I wait, as the larvae devour
my brain tissue.

When I have nothing left to give,
I'll pull down my lower eyelid
and let the maggots slide out.
Feast or famine.
The dry summer or monsoon season.

It’s not as though he had
murdered me.

That would be easier to
prove. There would be

no hiding
the blood of it.

And how I did bleed—
years later,

red all over it.

Fuel for the fire.

But nothing trembles
as I weigh the being

of my existence against
what stoppage.

Order or chaos.
Black or white.

What has been spoilt
rotten can never be

golden. These are
the questions I ask myself:

Am I loved? Do I
love? Can I love?

While there is the story
he tells himself, reassuringly:

It was just ***.
It was just ***.
ᴊᴰᴍ Jul 2013
I smite her without a flicker of remorse,
now read this incantation with me.

Web caught trembling prey, blistering sadness in a shallow grave.
Repulsive, rotten, ***** stench, locked box of putrid sorrow.
Blood clot hidden trench, vile secretion burrow.
Wolf dressed goblin *****, muttering incantations.
Teetering on a broken fence, seething hatred, regurgitation.
Greedy, evil, spineless, *****, cunning, patient, *****.
One head liar, two face succubus.
Speechcraft, forked tongue, slithering witch, foul gargoyle.
Rebuke venomous, castrate hung, stoke the funeral pyre.
Incubate the serpent fetus, demon, devil, fire.
Nevermore sinister toil, bone-covered soil.
Death to the succubus.
Death to Venus.
© JDMaraccini 2013
SilvarumDea Oct 2020
I just open myself to the pain
Like a rotten wound that never heals
And my cursed soul can never rest,
Consuming itself from within.

My tired eyes have cried so much,
But my silent scream was never heard.
How could I ever think that I could win
On this unfair battlefield which I call life?

The Universe laughs at my stubbornness,
While throwing me back to the ground.
My rotten soul surrenders with a pity song
Searching for what's left of it.
Brian Payamps Aug 2020
LOVE so deep
But love....
LOVE'S not free

LOVE like a circus clown
Frowns turned upside down

Every day I died
But love...
LOVE kept me Alive


For Love we hide
We hide our damaged parts
But the stench
The Stench of SULPHUR
Can't be covered by cologne nor perfume

LOVE so deep
But love....
LOVE'S not free

LOVE needs to eat
But how you let it feed when you rot from with in
Mari Aug 2020
Let the rotting
sadnspicy0 Aug 2020
Sometimes it seems like my heart is rotten,
it can't feel anything but the pain,
and I can't touch it, 'cause wounds are open...
I am my calm and my hurricane.

Sometimes I think I've concurred the monster.
But then, again, the image starts clouding.
They say the human body is 60% water...
Well, that explains why it feels like I'm drowning.
I deeply apologize for the amount of I-s and my-s put into this poem.
basil Jun 2020
the way i clean my teeth
before i taste your tongue
seems obsolete
because your lips are
muddy with unsaid lies
the words you hold on to make me feel rotten

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