You lured me in With your compliments And trapped me with your lies I could never please you No matter how I tried The day we tied The knot to hell I saw the evil twist And some years later I ran To escape Your Fist.
i'm so angry - my face is pale, an empty canvas no artist wanted to draw in.
i want something. fill the void between sharpened teeth: vomiting coffee grinds and blood into the pages of my favorite novel,
i destroy myself remembering times where my glasses were still broken. bed sheets always stained with spelt wine as drunk lovers stumbling into my bed - they lean the bottle into my small hands, keeping the mattress wet. the red is nothing smothering all over me.
no one is looking this way. hungry gods play with hot glue, pressing eyes like wrought iron into my nerves - tearing the ends apart to justify the means, as if i don't know people leave when you're down to your last layer of skin.
the world i sleep in tastes of fog water and i can never catch a breath pushing every -thing down with old opened *** to drag my self to the sink:
It's always the bat-****, rabid dog crazy ones that will put up a really good front when you first meet them. You're always amazed at how normal they appear. They are intelligent, hold down jobs, drive Volvo's; maybe they even have children that they seem to take care of. They pay bills, celebrate holidays and have houseplants. They might even have a dog or a cat, or a sickly looking bird in a cage. But, just underneath the false facade of lucid smiles, lurks a whack-job from hell. They make Sybil and Lizzie Borden look like Mother Theresa.
If you find yourself with one of these women, don't confront them, it only makes matters worse, and could prove deadly. Just smile and nod, and slowly back out the door. Don't stop until you see the Pacific Ocean. Get in and wash yourself off. Your safer with the sharks and the riptide.
I thought of cool lines with hard angles Sliding fingers across steel burnished bright The touch felt solid under rapt enraptured fingers Heavy to the hand, but built so very light
This gun was my protection It shimmered in the moonlight, built for feel Blurring hard angles into smooth curves Steel gave way to flesh, earthly appeal
Lubrication turned to sweat, slick with desire This power is intoxicating, it makes me free Silky hair took place of polymer coat My lover was my gun Pointed right at me
This poem describes the textile nature of love and fear. Many have shared in a toxic relationship where we have felt powerful as if nothing else in the world mattered. Love like guns can be dangerous if we lose ourselves in that perceived power. Don't be the gun pointed at another person and don't let someone else be the gun pointed at you.
Beautiful young boy with a heart of gold, Corrupt my heart with your ugly soul, All good intentions rotting you whole, Crying wolf to walls of stone, Pack your bags and hope to live , Pills stain your strawberry lips .
Beautiful young girl with an innocent face , Date all the boys and hope they wont break, All good intentions rotting you whole , Praying for guidance yet corrupting your soul , Addiction at night and purity by day , No one knows the true mask you display .