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#impulses
And as like the clock, who has little gears coupled to major ones in a specific motion pattern Being even the minimum action of these the result of a previous triggering movement so intense, violent, precise, exact but at the same time, minimal, tiny, small and insignificant Resulting in a even bigger one, like an humongous stone going deep dive into the smallest and superficial of all ponds Everything is connected to the flow of causalities of unknown consequences who will lead to an predictable yet complex outcome This is massive, unfathomable bigger than us, and we didn't started it, little we know how we can end it
0
Jul 21, 2022
Jul 21, 2022 at 2:01 PM UTC
Untitled
I can't remember the last time I've known such anticipation I had forgotten what innocence looked like Felt like Urging the agitated cells in my being to settle To be patient, to resist the burning ache The intrusive impulses To push too fast To hide my heart behind my body To self-destruct
0
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 6:50 PM UTC
Forgotten Innocence
What Now? It took me forever to choose so I succame to impulse dictated by MY desire born within limitations of my perspective my understanding my reach But what choice did I have? This subject? That object? choice seemed tainted impulse felt natural a manipulator's playground hijacked lowjacked jacked The Faceless Man whispers, "Well, you always had the choice." but Shame speaks in ones own voice so what now?
0
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 12:42 AM UTC
Responsibility Poem #5
This morning I woke up without regret Everything went well My thoughts didn't cause any turmoil My soul was at peace Suddenly, something changed. I was filled with anxiety Gut-wrenching thoughts flooded in. Maybe I should just die Those words filled my head, Impulses rushed through my body, To act upon those nasty feelings To actually take my own life. But here I am Barely breathing Barely living On the verge of ending it all.
0
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 11:48 AM UTC
Change
A match, unlit, but potent, awaiting A spark. Impulse, unfit, but potent, awaiting The dark. Controlled, subdued by intimidation. Behold! It escapes in conflagration! Desire, unmet, but potent, and wanting To play. The id, unchecked, but potent, and wanting To prey. Dead, beaten into its subjugation. Instead! Unchained, furious damnation! Defense, untried, but potent, seeking To win. Violence, untold, but potent, seeking To sin. Enslaved, subject to emasculation. Saved! Freedom, total depravation!
0
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
War Within
There was a moment, so unexpected, When I woke, seeking just ordinary, Resigned to loneliness, unconnected, Our encounter—felt imaginary. Seeking isolation, no need for lust, Appreciation gone, beauty no more, Passion burned, with eyes I no longer trust, You—a seduction I’d not known before. Pulling back from feeling, and nakedness, All the beauty, futile, unrequited, Choosing instead dullness, and wretchedness, Our spark—an extinguished soul ignited. Recoiling, fear, cursed sexuality, Libidinous impulses, uncontrolled, Bare, on altars of sensuality, You—inviting love I cannot withhold. Kiss me, hold me, bring my love in deeper, Forgive me, embrace me, don’t let me be still, Touch me, and own me, and be my keeper, Your look—I resisted, but have lost my will.
0
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 9:45 PM UTC
Uncontrollable
that night, my stomach cramped up the nerve to ask if i had gotten the sick out of me, i tossed my response in the form of mixed media liquids, solids, and amongst other things, last night's dinner my impulses don't know how to punctuate there are no commas no full stops I'm sorry sweetheart perhaps i should have warned you before but understand i don't just want to dive in with you i want to drown in all the warmth so drown with me that night, my stomach cramped up the nerve to ask if i had gotten the sick out of me, i tossed my response in the form of mixed media liquids, solids, last night's dinner, and amongst other things his name or maybe yours you see, i remember all the things gone bad, conversations him and i never got to have but lately i've been keeping my face towards the sunlight my entire being is reacting, making metaphors out of 12 a.m vomiting incidents, my entire being is reacting even when my body is still, i am still trying my very best to get the sick out of me. - Crimsyy a/n: thankyou for reading! for anyone who's wondering, the 12 a.m vomiting incident that inspired this entire poem did actually happen and it was terrible. Hopefully the poem is better (:
0
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 10:06 AM UTC
on reacting
Early too early I wanna sleep But something is burning Right in the deep The thoughts, the ideas Are crossing my mind How long will they stay I have to decide They are impolite I won't ever miss them But they'll keep on coming Again and again With every visit They'll put a weird pressure On me Like when you're in desert And have to keep water Until you see a village Whith a certain relief Sometimes I managed To empty the bottle Because I was certain There was a fountain But when I came closer The hope broke all over It was just another mirage In my brain. And they keep on visiting me again.
0
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
Early too early
Go to sleep, my love. This ambulance is not for us. Although, I suppose it could be, following dark impulses. Its sirens screaming of hell, tearing pell-mell in a night not tinged by blood – no crime committed for want or violence, only help arrived too late to save us. It would go silent then, as we have been silenced, locked in a terrible tableau. You, still, curled around my heart, me having found for us oblivion.
0
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 7:13 AM UTC
postpartum
I was driving home late at night after I crashed on my friend's couch in the middle of a movie hands less on 10&2 and more on 7&5 mind less on the road and more on my speed how easy it would be to stop steering, to just crash into something. When the light turns green I hallucinate headlights in my rearview, but when I look back there's nothing but black asphalt following me. Look, Mom, no hands. Look, Mom: No hands.
0
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
impulses
But this is only for tonight Only this chance Only here in this moment  & only for this space and time We won't be able to try again Come morning we'll exit here and I'll dissappear We'll have this one memory this one chance It's only us Only here Only this moment  Only for this space and time We'll  make it last & make it sweet You'll be satisfied I'll be content with it all baby And never again can we repeat what we do here So take your time Enjoy every fiber of us every touch moan & screams Love me like you'll never see me again because you won't Since I'll only do this once ONLY FOR ONE NIGHT
0
Dec 24, 2015
Dec 24, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Only For One Night
Insert possible Trigger Warning for my fuckity bluntness today God knows if you've read a lot of my work, you know I am all about the metaphors and symbolism and all of that, right? I twist everything into run on sentences of Wonderland madness and all of that. Well, today, **** that. You heard me. **** my words and my poetry, today we are being blunt, as blunt as a person who feels uncomfortable at the mere mention of some words when she's feeling down. But this isn't about me right now. Well it is, but not. Anyway, here we go. You know what ******* ***** Suicidal thoughts. And thoughts of cutting. And insane impulses. And moving vehicles and how nice it sounds to jump in front of one sometimes, even if its simply because you want to know what it feels like. I lie a lot, ok? I am probably able to be diagnosed as a pathological liar at this point, if we want to be ******* honest for once, because I am so scared of terrifying people and hurting them and making them feel bad that I keep the truth inside. I tell snippets or water-downed versions, but I literally want to bash my skull in half the time from unwanted impulses or put myself in a straight-jacket for how nice causing myself pain sounds. Its crazy, I know its crazy, but its my head and its me and that's a hard thing to live with when saying 'I'm not like the other girls' stops being a fashion statement and turns into a curse. Impulses and impulsiveness in general is not ******* cute, ok? I look at a car and I want to run into it. I see any attractive person and I wonder what it would be like to flirt and kiss and see their body naked. I see a train and wonder what it would be like to run away. I finish a book and I want to publish and quit school and be a full time author with half a writing degree. I see a knife and I wonder what it'd be like to stab someone with it. I am not suicidal or nymphomaniac or a murderer, and I don't truly want to do any of these, but the ******* impulses. In that moment its the only thing that sounds like a good idea, and I feel my body pull towards it. Just one step into the street, just a few hours of running away, just a little cut. I all ******* sick and I know it but its my head and though I control them better now I can't stop them. I can't change people either. And because of my fuckity condition of moods and impulses if I get sad and get a suicidal impulse, it latches on like a ***** And I want it to stop and I want to feel better and I want help, but how do you tell your friends that the one little sentence they said turned you into a death-seeking mess? I'm broken, and I'm ******* hella crazy, but I still want to be human. I want to be treated like I'm a person and not a ticking time bomb. I hate telling people anything going on in my head because I don't want to be treated like I'm some invalid. I am valid, I am real, and I don't deserve to be treated like a monster when I never do anything, I just have these ******* impulses. **** **** **** **** impulses. I hate impulses. I am fully aware I'd feel empty without my range of emotion, but can the impulses go away, please? I don't want to even contemplate cheating on my boyfriend when its nothing that I want, I don't want to be afraid the impulses might get me to jump off the nearest bridge, and I don't want to cut my wrists. I am fully aware people can't always get what they want, but why the hell do I have to fight a raging hell-monster that whispers all the things no one should do? Why do I get that special ******* pleasure? If this is some sort of 'gift' to make me stronger, guess what? I. Don't. Want. It. I just want to be a normal quirky girl who's a little emotional and likes to write stories. Why is that such a hard dream? And by the way? I still ******* hate impulses.
0
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
Blunt This Time
Insert possible Trigger Warning for my fuckity bluntness today God knows if you've read a lot of my work, you know I am all about the metaphors and symbolism and all of that, right? I twist everything into run on sentences of Wonderland madness and all of that. Well, today, **** that. You heard me. **** my words and my poetry, today we are being blunt, as blunt as a person who feels uncomfortable at the mere mention of some words when she's feeling down. But this isn't about me right now. Well it is, but not. Anyway, here we go. You know what ******* ***** Suicidal thoughts. And thoughts of cutting. And insane impulses. And moving vehicles and how nice it sounds to jump in front of one sometimes, even if its simply because you want to know what it feels like. I lie a lot, ok? I am probably able to be diagnosed as a pathological liar at this point, if we want to be ******* honest for once, because I am so scared of terrifying people and hurting them and making them feel bad that I keep the truth inside. I tell snippets or water-downed versions, but I literally want to bash my skull in half the time from unwanted impulses or put myself in a straight-jacket for how nice causing myself pain sounds. Its crazy, I know its crazy, but its my head and its me and that's a hard thing to live with when saying 'I'm not like the other girls' stops being a fashion statement and turns into a curse. Impulses and impulsiveness in general is not ******* cute, ok? I look at a car and I want to run into it. I see any attractive person and I wonder what it would be like to flirt and kiss and see their body naked. I see a train and wonder what it would be like to run away. I finish a book and I want to publish and quit school and be a full time author with half a writing degree. I see a knife and I wonder what it'd be like to stab someone with it. I am not suicidal or nymphomaniac or a murderer, and I don't truly want to do any of these, but the ******* impulses. In that moment its the only thing that sounds like a good idea, and I feel my body pull towards it. Just one step into the street, just a few hours of running away, just a little cut. I all ******* sick and I know it but its my head and though I control them better now I can't stop them. I can't change people either. And because of my fuckity condition of moods and impulses if I get sad and get a suicidal impulse, it latches on like a ***** And I want it to stop and I want to feel better and I want help, but how do you tell your friends that the one little sentence they said turned you into a death-seeking mess? I'm broken, and I'm ******* hella crazy, but I still want to be human. I want to be treated like I'm a person and not a ticking time bomb. I hate telling people anything going on in my head because I don't want to be treated like I'm some invalid. I am valid, I am real, and I don't deserve to be treated like a monster when I never do anything, I just have these ******* impulses. **** **** **** **** impulses. I hate impulses. I am fully aware I'd feel empty without my range of emotion, but can the impulses go away, please? I don't want to even contemplate cheating on my boyfriend when its nothing that I want, I don't want to be afraid the impulses might get me to jump off the nearest bridge, and I don't want to cut my wrists. I am fully aware people can't always get what they want, but why the hell do I have to fight a raging hell-monster that whispers all the things no one should do? Why do I get that special ******* pleasure? If this is some sort of 'gift' to make me stronger, guess what? I. Don't. Want. It. I just want to be a normal quirky girl who's a little emotional and likes to write stories. Why is that such a hard dream? And by the way? I still ******* hate impulses.
Continue reading...
17
i failed once again my impulses take control i find no reason to fight it i fell like ive lost it all the demons come creeping back in they help me pick up the razor and put it against my skin one little line soon becomes more its not long before the drips hit the floor im falling down back into old habits its a neverending fall into neverending pits it's time for me to go now the gashes need to heal ive been torn and torn myself up none of this seems real
0
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 4:07 AM UTC
And It Drips
Freedom, Like the rain, it washes all away Past memories, horrors - everything is rinsed away; relief remains. It feels like sand between your toes, Leaving you lost in your impulsive throes. Freedom, In her dissolving smiles, Her mischievous flirts, Her sweet small skirts... You've missed her for so long... The touch of her spine, The caress of her thighs, The weightless good byes-- *Ah! Freedom, she smells like rain...*
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Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
Romanticizing Freedom
It started one night; We talked into the night, Till after the midnight, I saw the Light, Beyond the darkest night. Since that faithful night, Now I want more nights. It’s almost midnight, Yet I can’t sleep tight. Don’t say goodnight, For it’s a bad night, Because after that first night I don’t sleep again at night. I can’t dream light, Nor snore right. Sweet One of the night, You’re all I need for a good night. Stay with me for one more night, Let me give you the best Night of all nights. I’ve waited, wanted and rehearsed for this night. Let me take you to the stars of the night, And beyond the dark lights, Where you’ve never been before, for after this one night, You’ll never run away for all nights. Fairest of the night, Fear not one more try won’t hurt an ant. Are you scared Beautiful One of the night? Its midnight The best time To say this rhyme Desire I only you Require I just you Can’t do without you All me want is you For me alone its you Anywhere I’ll go for you Everywhere I’ll go with you In me is only you For I am with you Now pray this rhyme For it’s the best time Cos it’s Midnight Like that night…
0
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:54 AM UTC
"All Night's Midnight"
Beyond the butterfly feelings In the whirlwind of our intimacy A full option sensual desire Distance distancing distance All at once till we hit the ****** The zenith of pleasures and feels Like the breakthrough of Miracles Sounds of Soughs, ex and in hales Hot Moments of breathlessness Scratches of speechlessness Mouth agape, dead-in-moments long squeezes, short grips, sweats Body vibrating, breath whispering Emotions revealing, turn ons Passions imploding, hard ons Intense kinetic motions of kardias Slippery shining fleshy mammalians Till the moment of implosion: ****** That sweet ecstasy moment when all that exists is what you feel
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Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 10:09 AM UTC
"Sounds of Sough"
I go mad that I might see the world around me anew Growing up and being taught everything even the things I fear Yes the things I fear, love and hate… we are all first taught it all What to fear, what to love, what to hate.. this is my understanding Of the madness I encounter everyday… I go mad that the world around me may accept me for a sanity’s insanity Dressed in naked’s flesh and being glorified as the highest fad in vogue For even my flesh feels no more shame, as Adam and Eve felt same Oh! I go mad for the love of Steve rather Eve becoming Adam’s ribs How beit?  “From the beginning it was not so” why make it so now Will Jonah’s good luck bill save our nation’s repulsive ills and acts? How long will mercy deter us from the brimstone exodus of the Gomorrah’s? I go mad for loved ones that show love for the personal preferential from loved ones How much of this personal preferential love actually makes the world go round Brothers killing brothers, how cold our love has waxed...
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Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
"OH! I GO MAD O!"
No Bargain; No Ills Her deep dark twin ain't got a spin if she doesn't spill, so chill No Deals; No Seals I'm not sorry for her hurt, hate and hostility I'm not the pain, never was so don't take it out on me I'm just not Her Beautiful In the Wind nor Within She wouldn't let me be No Hunt; No Kills She was hurt long before i came Now a hard, cold, cynical woman incapable of expressing Love is a decision she can change No Soul; No Love Her body calls but her heart curses I was once there; yea I really was Clouded also in my high end darkness Even the Deepest  Darkest agony only goes when we let go "he should let it go" this is for her not for me No Wrongs; No Worth less I take a chill... and utter my guilt Yes, i did wrongs I never meant but we had an agreement "let go if we don't flow" ice don't melt on ice from our cradle in the Cream Castle till now "where's the love we made"? one rekindled after the hay No Confidence; No Evidence As you lay your bed ... never test your flares and fears in frightening ferries No Forgiveness; No Blessedness I can't forget nor would you yet let it remind us how wrong we went so we don't go down that path again
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Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
"No Bargain; No Ills..."