#bleach
The search has stopped — no way you sought,
There never was one, never has been.
Slammed hard against the skull, the thought,
But the mind paid no attention, unseen.
The strength is gone — just one last line,
I dropped the message at the end,
The scent of bleach on the morgue sign,
The threshold has become a close friend.
Fate can't be changed — just ice and cold,
The story’s end is ready to be told.
Too late to keep the words on hold,
Shout them out from memory — unfold.
The dogs in packs began to howl,
From the basement, rise the sounds.
There is no other news — it's foul,
None wrote it down, there are bounds.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 11:42 PM UTC
i stood before the mirror,
pale as a powdered lie,
with strands the colour of fallen empires
and dignity rubbed dry.
the bleach had no mercy,
the dye had no aim —
i emerged from the wreckage
with only myself to blame.
my scalp, a battlefield,
my pride, a powdered wig.
i whispered threats to heaven
with a plastic comb so big.
the townsfolk fled in silence,
the moon refused to rise,
and even my reflection
looked away from my disguise.
somewhere between brass and madness,
i found a kind of grace —
the lord of bad decisions,
with toner on my face.
so let the ships keep sinking,
let the storm winds howl and hiss —
i’m lord cutler beckett, darling,
and i was born for this.
Jul 5, 2025
Jul 5, 2025 at 1:15 PM UTC
all your lovers of summer whisper soundlessly
against my collared [owned]
existence.
airy spirits of longing sleep
unseen by anyone
except me,
and yet these
flickers of response aren't
noticeable.
I?
desolate and weak.
my heart remains and feels the sight
like an eternity of bleach down my throat
or glass in my eyes
or fingernails ripped
or neck broke
or burn marks
or bites
or the Judas Cradle
or the Blood Angel
or the Swedish Drink
or White Torture
or disembowelment
or Scaphism
except worse.
The thoughts are whirlwinds,
or maybe whirlpools
because I'm drowning
in the same way that you drown me out.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 9:25 PM UTC
I await the calm, the bleach
of night, that chapter
when my ribs
unbreak, crawl back
around my cageless heart. eyelids
weigh like lead in this cruel gravity--
they swell faster than tears. tears
that fail to surge me out of this flooded
shell; they close
like every marble door
that stands straight between my dreams
and I,
and you-- I await
you, draped in downpours & monsoon
tempests; maybe, this time, our wildest
winds would fade out in their collision.
Sep 24, 2020
Sep 24, 2020 at 5:27 AM UTC
Come what may in November
Important to remember
Even if spoken in jest
Please do not ingest!
© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 3:04 PM UTC
bathed myself in bleach
and scrubbed my skin with rubbing alcohol
when i light myself on fire
i feel somewhat better
and i have swept the kitchen floor a lot
almost obsessively
but when i walk around i still feel dirt on the bottom of my feet
i am surprised i still have the ability to feel anything
i tried drinking gasoline and licking flames
like megan fox in jennifer's body but
i am a freak and a coward so things didn't work out
still, i am used to disappointment
and i am used to hating myself
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 3:13 PM UTC
Bleach my heart,
my eyes and my mouth.
Strangle love out of me
till I scream and shout.
Let my skin turn red,
purple and blue.
Feed me till I drop dead
with an apple from Peru.
Scream at me, scream!
Let there be steam
coming out of your ears
to awaken my fears.
Hold me tight and whisper
till your lips gets blisters.
Beat me ******
roar loud.
Show me that your proud
of the hot heavy tears
that stream down my face.
They are just for you
and don't bring me a tissue.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
i ask how the boyfriend is
and you say he
leaves flowers around the house
because he knows you
like them.
but i already know
about the screaming matches
and the nights spent
locked in the bathroom.
drunk and afraid
alone but together.
i dont know what it is
about people. we let the trail
control the journey.
one bad apple and we
bleach the ******* farm.
so when i ask about
the boyfriend and you tell me
about the flowers i know
exactly what you mean.
i know exactly what
youre scared of.
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC
Wishy Washy.
Tumbling,
Between high and low,
Hot and cold.
Am I delicate like the load of whites? do I need to refresh my color with a strong drink- bleach?
Or am I tough and resistant like denim? toss me in for an hour, shove soap down my throat, and I'll come out like new?
Maybe I'm a mixed load, balancing between the two; teeter-tottering from feeling to feeling.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 9:02 PM UTC
you might as well
asked me to drink
bleach through a straw,
boiling to a point where
i could smell the sharpness
like a needle through my nose
and when girls say they
tried to drink men away, i
laugh at them
because yellow teeth
and lemonade
from the sourest of lemons,
squeezed and strained through a
sugared cloth by the hands of
your mother's mother
still tastes like ****
sour as it may be
life is nothing more
than an endless
under-sink
cabinet
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:49 PM UTC
My memories; constantly haunting me,
except the good ones, those thoughts always run.
Need a canvas that's blank, to paint new lessons to teach,
that ship already sank, think I just need some bleach.
It's always out of reach.
My soul is soiled, my heart is broke,
my taste buds were boiled, my lungs only choke.
From temple to ruin, whole body to breech,
death will come soon, think I just need some bleach.
I'm through being a leech.
Losing sight, losing hope,
losing the fight against the rope.
Losing sleep, this is my niche,
I'm in deep, and craving bleach.
I carry a cross; one on each shoulder,
it's strengthened by loss, weighs down like a boulder.
Each carries a name, but I'm not like to preach,
I'm dreading the blame, think I just need some bleach.
I volunteer for impeach.
Losing sight, losing hope,
choosing plight, and fail to cope.
Losing sleep, silence to screech,
the stains will keep, still wanting bleach.
My memories; constantly haunting me,
except the good ones, they all are done,
need a new start, a day on the beach,
thread's been ripped apart, think I just need some bleach.
It's always out of reach.
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 6:21 AM UTC
nostalgia sticks as i try to stop thinking
listening to the intros to my favourite
animes that were more than just a
comfort for so many years.
i want to stop thinking, but i can't.
make it stop. i want to be okay.
make it stop. i'm tired of feeling
exhausted, tired of being depressed,
tired of being nothing more than a
robot to my anxiety and society.
now's my favourite intro. i'm listening,
trying to force myself to remember the
times i watched bleach with my sister,
trying to remember what the happiness
felt like.
make it stop.
please.
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 6:40 AM UTC
i just need something
to brighten my days
and make them seem
less bleak
so i don't drink bleach
and call it a day.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
bleach
the pink splotches on my not white clothing are because of you
dilute it and you have soap
drink it and you've got death
hum and click your fingernails if they're long enough to reach the table
rub it into your skin and forget your parents' identity
clean the counter with it
bleach
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 5:46 PM UTC
it smelled like love and a dive bar.
polishing liquid, flowers, stale smoke, patchouli oil.
the floor was covered in a blanket of antique carpets that
were the color of levi’s after being
mixed with bleach
and red lipstick that hadn't been removed
after 2 days that needed to be touched up.
that character practically lived
in the silver giant
and he decided that tapestries with the edges duct taped to the windowsills with designs
that were so deeply eloquent to the point
where the human brain could effortlessly get lost in them
were 300 times better than curtains.
there was a transistor radio in there,
oh, the good ol’ transistor that
was adored despite the raging amounts of
static that would pour out of
the speakers...
whenever the dead or zeppelin came
on the volume switch would turn as far
to the right as it would go.
he would smile
and within an hour
his fingers, bound in
layers of opal and turquoise rings would turn an ordinary
sheet of silver into
a glistening piece of magic.
every second spent in the airstream
was an abstract painting as tangled and mystifying
as those tapestries on the cracked
fingerprint stained windows,
where life took place in the subterranean depths
of the paper grains that no one
had dared to venture to.
-z. vega
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
my hair is the texture of the grass in the field I didn't wanna grow up by
it feels like I've been swimming in the ocean but really I'm drowning on land
I learn time and time again that some things are more beautiful when you just leave them alone and maybe I could've been one of them
I am as unnatural as my upbringing
Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
it's nights like these
that my mind becomes my own worst enemy.
when i put on a rope necklace,
and pour myself a tall glass of bleach.
imagining what it would be like to have all the pain stop,
and for the static noise to be silent for once.
it's enough for me to go through the motions,
preparing to end it all.
but i wake up from my trance each time,
realizing the truth of the world.
i undo the clasp of my necklace of rope,
and pour the bleach down a drain.
the razor blades go back in the drawer,
and the pills back in the bottle.
waiting until next time.
it's nights like these where i almost do...
but don't.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
Fluffy white lullabies
Cotton candy in the sky
Pastel pinks and baby blues
Fields of flowers, pick and choose.
Silky tears on my cheek
Cold water in the creek
Dark skies with a full moon
Don’t worry love, I’ll be gone soon!
Empty pill jar on the floor
Throw up roses, more and more
Cry with every passing thorn
Wheezing while your lungs are torn.
Pasty skin, purple veins
Fighting off the hunger pains
Counting every single rib
Wipe the bleach off of your bib.
Blankly staring at the wall
As every last leaf will fall
Nothing wrong but nothing right
Sit and think of every fight.
Every sin drips from your lips
Shivers through your fingertips
Bleeding everytime you cry
Down a little cyanide.
Haven’t slept for centuries
Smashing the piano keys
Letting out a heavy sigh
Turn your cheek and say goodbye.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
99% of household germs
do not ******
care,
1%
do.
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
I washed her
from my pillow-slips.
In a white plastic bucket
I soaked away her body's breath,
and with bleach removed
the evidence she had left.
We snatched the time
to make our marks
with sweat and
firm commitments.
The stains on stolen sheets
proved easier to erase
than those she ground into
the fabric of my room,
I watched as
traces of our time
together
turned the water dark.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
I look at him, so pathetic
Rotten corpse.
He has no idea what demons fester
In his own heart.
He doesn't see it.
Calls me a devil woman,
"No good" he calls me.
He's in denial of the tarred feathers
He has rolled himself into.
I tried my life on him
But he couldn't see that.
Tells me I'm wrong and should
"Be thankful for what I get"
***** pig.
I bet he wished she looked as good as me
Bent over.
I bet he liked her mouth tight
Like my fists,
The chicken wire around his neck,
The tourniquet
Of fate.
...............
Bleach gets the blood out, he told me.
Best advice he ever gave.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
The sunset
Bleached orange
And tinged with pink
The sunrise
Melted with red
And streaked with white
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC