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Céline Mar 2014
when you can actually feel the pain in your chest from seeing or hearing something that breaks your heart.
when you feel that pain rushing down to your stomach, making you *****, ***** out the broken peices..
when you've purged yourself of all feeling, and you feel your body slowly start to become numb.
Why
Steven Covert Aug 2014
Drunken poems never work for me.
Sitting outside,                      
Smoking my cigarette,
Clutching my bottle of momentary respite
But here I sit writing it.

You inspire this in me.
Not the drinking (to an extent)
But the writing.
Without you I would never of started
Without the pain you unknowingly cause

I smile even though I'm hurt.
You make me smile.
You make me hurt

I'm sad now so this is done.
Leena Vango Sep 2014
You
Roots grow from within you, planting me in love.

You don't completely know who you are; quite frankly I don't either.
Yet love is where
my mind takes me.
Making me wonder
if love is not knowing
of the unknown...
Is that where you are?
the unknown?
an alchemical entity,
an endless cosmo
an introspective meditation; reverberations vibrating our physical form as we combine souls..
    Then
    i ponder
                      you
then
I ponder
                       me...
and suddenly...
I find myself submerged in you
not knowing how to swim.
elizabeth Jul 2013
we are all rocks. we are built up over many years, influenced by our surroundings as we weather and erode as part of the conditions we are subjected to - the trials that we are put through. we are compressed by the weight of heavy loads. we will be weighed down by our heavy hearts, and crushed by forces of the universe that are bigger than us. we are made up of many sediments, fragments of other rocks. the influence of others. we are the composition of everyone whom we've met, and their impact on our lives. some people leave larger pieces of sediment, while some are smaller than a tiny grain of sand. but they make us who we are today. and we never die. we live on for millions of years, you and me - these rocks are the physical imprints of our spiritual souls on the earth, because everyone affects something in one way or the other. we may not believe it, but believe this: we have the power to change the world - just by being here. we are a part of the bigger picture, a series of rocks that make up part of human history. wherever you go, you will have made your mark. be it just a tiny dent in the soil, or a boulder that fell from a mountain - realise that things would be different if you had not been what you are and gone where you've been.
Marlo Jul 2014
No pants.
Black tank top.
Music on.

Pills in.
Tears nonexistent.
Numb.

I think.
Try to find myself.
Who am I?
I come to a blank.

Can't find me.
Just my acts.

I swallow.

Bleeding from thighs,
Carelessly bleeding in the middle of the
family room.

Thinking.
***** rises.
I run and help it go.

Look in the mirror.
Not me.

My persona swallowed me.

Run and lay into the middle of the floor.
The rest of me sinking into hell.

I'm nothing but an act.
My day, literally.
. *** .
I put on a cutesy voice because I’m the unexpected murderer of happiness. It makes more of an impact acting like a dumb blonde ***** to society’s expectations, that when I come out with ****** methods one wants to scream and run away. I’ll tell you what makes me squirm, being touched and googling fear of holes. Those pictures make me want to ***** and **** myself at the same time. Gore and pain…I can handle. But loads of deep circular imprints on the skin from leaning on things…no.no.no. I can’t. It will make me implode.
https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=trypophobia&client;=firefox-a&hs;=AeF&rls;=org.mozilla:en-US:official&channel;=fflb&source;=lnms&tbm;=isch&sa;=X&ei;=R-q6U--BKszo7AbvwYHoCQ&sqi;=2&ved;=0CAYQ_AUoAQ&biw;=1280&bih;=913
StuKerr Jun 2014
Im out of my mind
Drugs and drink anything goes
I have **** my pants
Brooke Davis Jun 2014
I am not a fancy poet.
I do not use intricate words
or phrases to catch the eye
or ensnare the senses.
When I write,
it is not to elicit attention from
an inquisitive audience,
or gain fame.
I write to simply ***** my thoughts,
in untangible notes and scribbles,
and hope it can conjure
some sort of peace in my mind.
I share my poetry,
for the hope that perhaps,
you too can relate to me
and free your mind,
while we both try to
make some sort of sense
out of my word *****.
cr Jun 2014
consuming chocolate happens to grant
a more therapeutic, enlightening
experience than any counselor
has given you. the sweets
melt into your tastebuds in a
vast array of decadent
flavors, but the remedy
for your heartache is shattered
just moments after the candy is

devoured. soon,
the bathroom is decorated
in earthy browns, chunks
of violet, lines of indigo,
sunset orange lumps, and
snippets of
incapacitated self-esteem
among spots of your own
red blood because

you need to feel
empty.
i'm so sick.
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