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Vixx Jan 7
Your my rock
you know that right?
i’ll be your rock too
it’s just that i’m eroding
haha not feeling it today bois
Jasmine Reid Dec 2020
I pray for the day you crave my touch more than anything

And I will watch you wither in sorrow

As I have.
Ameliorate Dec 2020
“I wanted to be happy”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room
Intrusive thoughts
Dismaying salvation of pathologized compliance
Masking behaviour for acceptance
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable
Dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding
Belted and crying
Please stop, it hurts
Fearful avoidance
Nothing feels safe
Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain
Complex post traumatic stress disorder
Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic
Chronic pain with desolation
Desperately craving the touch of another human
Covid times; worsening depression combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping
Powerlifting self regulation though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you
They would make effort
Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.
December 3, 2020
One of my better pieces.
CB Aug 2020
“I’m not hungry, I’m not full. I’ve starved myself of you for so long, I dont want to even begin to imagine what you taste like.”
Iz Mar 2020
I would set my body aflame if it meant I would feel
warmth from you
Emily Mitchell Feb 2020
Sinking slowly down
Into the silent darkness
How far will I fall?

Fear, like an old friend,
catches me in cold embrace
freezing me in place.

Familiar unknown
memories like faded scars
half-remembered pain.

Shining silver streak,
fine claws trace down the tear's path
trailing bright rubies.

I will not recall,
you who starves in solitude,
after I'm awake.

Patiently you'll prowl,
at the edge of every dream,
waiting to break through...

or for me to fall,
down into your arms again
once more in your thrall.
This is another opening poem for a dream journal ...this one is the 2020 Edition... I realized I had never written a dream poem about a nightmare... I always focus on good dreams because that's what I have mostly.. I don't often have nightmares so I figured if there was one waiting for me it would get awfully lonesome and prowl about like a feral Beast that image was so spooky and irresistible... as was the Edward Scissorhands-like moment where the nightmare, in curious wonder, traces the tear trail down the cheek of the terrified Dreamer only to leave a bleeding **** behind because it's very nature is to frighten and cause pain... it has no fingers to touch with or words to speak...
I am generally a very positive person so it was strange and interesting trying to write something creepy and dark it was a fun challenge and I think it turned out pretty well. >w<
Shadow Dragon Oct 2018
a crash
dead gone
badly hurt
maybe one
may die
in a
hell hole
to starve
and be
buried alive
go away
and stay
where you are
leave me alone
and die in
a hell hole
Grey Oct 2018
We fall past the need of others
Entrapped and wrenched from howling legions
Smell the air, the sense of sages
Crying 'Secrets! Secrets beyond ages!'

Sell your soul for whispered love
A candle burning into skin
Forbidden words spill from mangled throats
Tongues wag loose, tell me what hurts

I know your fears and sacred comforts
Fleeting addict shakes with longing
Give me touch till your bones are empty
I fill your needs from my own coffers

I fill your needs from my own coffers
Fayre Jul 2018
I have been malnourished
of good people
and good poets.
Sometimes I have high expectations from low end humans.
Michelle Jun 2018
They are more starved for Nature
Then one can ever fathom;
Oh, where is that secret  
Off they go in a cabin;
that they may frequent
All the noise and pollution
It melts and floats away;
Into life's little solution.

It's back to the plough of life so rough;
They like the smithy toil day after day
Their life may be starved, very tough,
Oh, to listen to the wild loon's call.
How it haunts them each day after day;
How they stomach their bitter gall?
Taking a wooden loon back to the city.
Until that cabin is reached it is a pitty.
When the wild calls; Good-bye city.
We who are born

"We who are born
In country places
Far from cities
And shifting faces,
Have a birthright
No man can sell
And a secret joy
No man can tell"
Eiluned Lewis
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