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Tiara I S Mar 2019
I have dreams involving ****** lately
Breathing heavy- blankets twisted- mind shaken

Forced to **** in a hyper-reality

Every fear I've ever had vividly reincarnated
All whom I love in these cotton clouds are attacked

It's my consciousness that has me fighting back

Is there something looming in the future?
That's got me- after weeks- aiming loaded guns

In the beginning I would wake up in a sweat
My eyes dripping wet- I'd run my heart beat till I'd awaken to have escaped
Now I kick in glass and chase shadows looming corners

I dont wait and actively search for the disorder

Sweet children snatched from my heavy arms- I push through
Till I'm nearly awake just to break the sleep chains

I dont wanna **** unless I'm asleep

For there reality can easily be just my nightmares
I've been less stressed while conscious- funny cuz unconscious me has stressful decisions to make as a result
And it all seems all too real
Aaditya Feb 2019
Daylight shines like the lustre on a gold bar
Temperature slowly increasing with time
Dawn occurs early now, the birds, they sing soon
"I get less time to be admired", cries the moon.

O Apollo, you rise and shine brilliantly ever so now,
From orange to yellow and slowly to white-ish
Spreading light all over the world to see
I admire the way you burn so brightly.

This time of the year, it is still not my favourite though,
The heat is unbearable and so is profuse sweating.
Now all that's left is to avoid getting tanned badly,
So it's either put sunscreen on or the Sun screen on me.

O dear lord of the Sun, please be merciful this time,
Show that you can still be a charm.
Bring your party of clouds always with you,
I have always loved Winters, I might love Summer too.
nja Feb 2019
Describe him.
- He was dripping with sweat.
- Was it sweet?
- What?
  Oh, um I dunno.
- sigh
- But I know this much.
  He sweated under my weight.
  The nocturnal wind would then dry his sweat stiff.
  And he, perserverant as ever, would just sweat some more.
- Ok, so who collapsed first?
Aquinas Feb 2019
I'm so disco
shining ball
electric dance-floor
sweaty skin crawl

no one listens to the devil at the bar
dancing alone
making love to a cigar
"who let him in?"
  ask voices afar

I'm so disco
it's not hard!
sell your soul
give in to what's wrong

the songs are cruel
but the people are worse
they dub you disco
make you curse

when blue lights turn us dizzy
***** coats the throat
there's an evil deep inside
that brings me to my knees
every time

"help me! help me!"
I scream with sore lungs
crashing to the floor with a thud like a gun
"I'm so disco!"
but no one hears
they're so disco
the dance goes on
‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.
Waking up with sweat
stained sheets wrapped
around me and you are
nowhere to be seen as
you believe being mean
is keeping the lads keen.
Your leather jacket is
still here hanging on the
hook by the front door
and he wonders why
she didn’t want more.
He loved her laugh last
night as they drunkenly
tried to walk right home
after finishing a few gin
and tonics between them
that made his head spin
and her think that she
would forever win at sin.
Her long blonde hair
had flown out behind her
and it reminded him of
fresh sunflowers because
that was the colour of her
beauty and he prayed the
rest of the night would not
be another careless blur.
The radiance within her
shone so bright that he
didn’t even turn on the
kitchen light as he let
them both inside as the
liquor made their shyness
want to shrivel up and hide.
But in the next morning,
there was no hungover girl
mumbling sleepily and
yawning because instead
there was only her leather
jacket and the faint smell
of sweet perfume left on
his pillow as he tried to
visualize that beautifully
bright sunny yellow that
made his throat dry and
gave him a sickening urge
to cry because he didn’t
want this feeling to die.
He wondered if she would
call because it really hadn’t
taken him long to fall for her
long limbs and the way she
had dark humour that stung
him like a cheap rumour and
so he slept on the sofa that
day with the aching bones
of a man who lives alone
but with a leather jacket
wrapped around his arm
because he wanted to see
her again and see if she
maybe felt the same but
he knew deep down it
was a Friday night love
and the weekend would
soon fade away because
she was never destined to
stay yet he hung her jacket
in the closet for years to
come and tried again to
find the perfect one but
he’d let her slip between
his fingers yet the smell
of her sweet perfume still
lingered for Friday nights
to come and he missed the
colour of the sun that shone
in her hair and the bright
eyes that that craved fear.
She’d been his Friday night
coffee and cream that would
never return no matter how
much he stroked the seams
of her faded leather jacket.
Sunflower girl was now
gone with the wind and
soon he could no longer
recall her voice and the
paleness of her soft skin.
It was like she had never
met him in the first place
but oh god how he loved
her beautiful hair and knew
she had once been there in
his arms even if it had only
been for one Friday night.
Jo Barber Dec 2018
Beads of sweat
curve down the lines
of your neck.
I place my lips to you
and breathe in your scent.
You smelled sweet,
like summer strawberries.
I would've gone everywhere with you,
if you had only asked me to.
Sweet, silent nights
spent learning something
words could never teach.
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2018
Still unaware!

When he is out, it’s for you
When he is home, it’s for you

What he sweats, it’s for your concern
What he plans, it’s for your happiness
When he bleeds, it’s for building you up
When he is out, it’s for you
When he is home, it’s for you
When he thinks, you are always in

For all those
If he is in sleep
For the God's sake
Let him feel peace

Remember that
Genre: Observational
Theme: Truth of life
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