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chitragupta Mar 29
I can't move my wings
I can't move my feet
Stuck and suffocated
under a slowly closing lid

My ignorance invokes my ruin
I have been so stupid
If that justifies this punishment
then yes, devour me

Charlie Dog Aug 2018
dollop of jet black ink
on a backdrop of white,
framed in almond
soft doe eyes.
lashes that bid me stay.
draw me in,
dionaea muscipula.
everything is a blur
except for your gaze.
i hear music
when our eyes meet.
tease me with your smile.
oh, but i long for you
It is said that a geisha's glance can stop a man in his tracks
I am not a tiger, a vampire, or a ghost.

I cannot attack them straight on with my ferocious strength. I cannot watch them bleed from my claws.

I cannot lure them with beauty and perfection, lulling them in with a smile, snapping necks with bare hands.

I cannot sneak up on the shadows gliding soundlessly until I strike. A whisper, a warning, wherever I go.

But I can sew together my seams and glue the cracks together. I can fold down the edges and become a gentle circle. I can smile just the right amount to be a gentle, innocent flower, a master of deception.

I am a Venus flytrap.

An unknowing flower, not as pretty as the rest,
but soft and gentle, a perfect place to rest

Until I close my gapping mouth around you trapping you inside,
Eating you piece by piece until the pain destroys you from inside.
Sienna Luna Oct 2015
There is a stirring in my chest,
an elation I will not and cannot resist.
There was once a moment where all of life stood still
and my feet grew heavy
barren heavy.
Completely empty
and ready to fall.
There is a fire down below
where the depths of sight can’t grow.
It still feeds off my worried brain
like a fetus planted hover-vein.
The Venus Fly Trap sets its will
spiked teeth ready, for the ****.
There is a place where spider webs
and crawling things fit for nub ebb.
All my flagrant floppy body
deteriorates, demotivates, deregulates
into a monster of the fiendish kind
one where holographic glass goes blind.
there is a feed that ***** in silt
it still eats grits, their shiny pelt
slimy, sloshes, ready, in
frigid waters’ under-grin.
Come follow me, dear Venus Trap
into a submarine unsnap
there is a blooming in my groin
where dead things lay there

— The End —