Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
hani aqil Mar 2018
(TW for gore, ****** abuse, ******)

i dreamt she
deepthroated a knife
mouth settling around the blade,
lips split,
two tongued succubus.

tip of the knife
dragged round and round
her plump, sweet thighs
carving fishnets in flesh.

you
are not a father.

a father shouldn’t
want to ram his
insatiable ****
into his

child.

fish on deck
choking on air
spluttering, scales fluttering,
entwined in honeycomb plastic.
this was very difficult but ultimately very satisfying for me to write. my ex's father was an abusive cheater who expressed interest in her, and she'd occasionally tell me about her nightmares or experiences. it really affected me, as someone with a very stable and loving family background. i was really scared, and confused, and most of all disgusted. i remember once i leaned over a toilet at 3 am and wanted to gag so bad. abusive parents can burn in hell. when your child has to recover from their childhood, youve failed miserably at being a parent and a decent human being.
if you have abusive parents, my heart goes out to you. if you have been sexually assaulted, my heart goes out to you. stay strong i love you.
also, fishnets as in the stocking things are supposed to represent sexualization and in the last stanza theres a ref to a fish being trapped in a net (a fish net...!)
morgan Mar 2018
you will never know your toothbrush is a choking hazard
and that i still do things i said i stopped.
im sorry that you aren't let in my body
and that i won't let you crawl in me
and wear my skin
but you couldn't make it past my uvula
without me choking up self hatred.
so please to help yourself
let go
because im growing and shrinking
and my numbers will add up
and i will count down
until i hang from the peak of false confidence
with nothing left behind
but these notes
but these love letters to death himself.
something inside me has died dear friend and im ready to join it.
Cat Otherwise Feb 2018
to me
surrender
I demand only
what you’d never give
why resist when
they’ll never
believe
from the aggressor to the victim
Autumn Jan 2018
Strike the lighter-
It only burns a bit.
Get the needle-
Press it to your skin.
Tell yourself-
"Never again."
But you always give in.
Porcelain skin.
White as snow.
Wounds that easily show.
Polluted skin.
Littered in shame.
Riddled in pain.
Cover it up.
Conceal the hurt.
Don't sit and suffer. Get help.
Terra Marie Jan 2018
Night.

In my mind, night symbolizes bad things
Dead as night,
Things go bump in the night,
Missing each other like ships in the night,
Thieves in the night,
“A one-night stand?”
Lady of the night,
“Oh my God! How can you sleep at night?”

It is universally known that monsters come out at night
They lurk in the closets of kids everywhere
But closet monsters with their reaching claws, twelve eyes, four arms,
And purple fur aren’t as scary as you.
In the dark corner of my room by the lamp that was my mom’s
When she was growing up
Did you put your hands on her, too?

I look up and
Coming towards me
a gangrene riddled zombie
Arms outstretched, a child whining for candy
Hot mouth on my skin, saliva in my face
Tongue like tentacles wrapping around me and
I fall into that dark, unfeeling place

Night is when bad things happen to good people
When too-young children lose their too-young innocence,
I try to explain to my mom the things you did
Why I’m chasing light
She says I’m lying because you’re her father
She knows you, and you wouldn’t do that to her
I tell her it was night-time she says,
“Maybe it was too dark to see who it was.”

“It wasn’t, mom!” I scream.
Hot pokers in the form of hot tears sear my red cheeks
When she turns away from me

It was dark, that night
But not so dark that I didn’t know you that night,
That night when you took me and crushed me
And I didn’t have a choice.

But it was you.

A gangrene zombie hiding in dark corners of my bedroom.
Poem for an abused friend of mine.  You can overcome anything, R.  You're amazing.
Ripley Shaine Jan 2018
Your presence is comforting,
but I can't help but feel guilty,
when my mind destroys a moment between us
to flashback to memories of him.

He's been gone for so long,
I don't even think of him.
Yet, the wrong stroke or too long without a breath,
and I am trembling, shaking, crying.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

And immediately you do.
You're nothing like the ones before,
so why do their ghosts remain?
My body is haunted by their ethereal touch.

Your light kisses remove the cobwebs from my soul;
your hands stroking my back as you murmur calming words removes their stolen claims to my body.

I look into your eyes when I finish crying, I tell you I'm sorry,
but there's no need.

You see me when nobody else can.

You stay when nobody else would.

You saved me from demons I did not know exist.

What else is there to say but thank you?
This poem deals with ****  & ****** assault. Every so often, I get flashbacks out of nowhere. Panic attacks during ***. I hate it, but my love pulls me back to where I need to be & for that I am eternally grateful.
morgan Dec 2017
look at these girls
sweet girls
pretty girls
skinny girls
sweet pretty skinny girls
pale as ghosts
on all the posts
programmed to make you love the most
lips with a taste
perfect cherries
and bony hands
bony wrists
bony thighs
little do you know
they are beginning to crumble
and fade into the wall
joining the skeletons in their closet
digging their graves with
manicured nailsm
living up to their skin tone
bex Dec 2017
I’ve always been small.
Height-wise and generally, weight-wise, too.
But for some reason, it clicked in my head that I couldn’t be 110 anymore.
100 was one digit too many.

95 was 5 too heavy.

1000 was 800 too many for a day.

48 hours of emptiness wasn’t enough.

I’ve never been overweight or anywhere near. I’ve been at a lower weight my whole life.

Its never really been about losing weight but I can’t stop myself from making it become a goal.

I’m falling back into bad habits.

I’m wilting. Decaying.
**** i love RELAPSING
Next page