Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
  Oct 2014 Visceral love
Tupelo
Sweat out the best of me,
them lessons are bruises on my collarbones,
I am starving, hungry for the answers
searching for the right reasons
and the wrong women to share my nights with,
synthetic synonyms and rosary beads around my neck
kiss your letters off into the wind,
these apologies are nothing but repetitive
  Oct 2014 Visceral love
Elioinai
You too were sick,
You too were tired and could not get your rest
You too were lonely, for no one understood
You were hungry and sore
You were ***** and poor
Your bed was uncomfortable and sometimes your food tasted terrible

Were you lonely Lord, besides when God forsook you?
Oct 31, 2013
  Oct 2014 Visceral love
Haydn Swan
We are the virus,
The disease ridden art of perfection,
eroded by a cancerous cyst,
turned a whiter shade of pale,
paper thin beauty in a beholders eye,
stifled laughs through blackened lungs,
drip fed tears through a wrinkled skin,
we see our dust start to fall,
prelude turns to interlude,
our truth and destiny,
the moth eaten robes of a transient soul.
the disintegration of the human form, old age.
  Oct 2014 Visceral love
Tina Marie
Luxurious deviance
Leather and lace
Mooonbeams and razors
Blood in a crystal vase
My demons are longing
To feel your embrace
To seize you to me
With my hands on your waist
Our paths intersect
I breathe in the taste
Your panic sets in
As the clouds lay to waste
The rays of the moon
And you behold my face
Shrouded in bloodlust
With no saving grace
Luxurious deviance
Leather and lace
Not really sure. This poem was supposed to be elegantly dark like Morticia Addams but it turned into something else as I wrote.
  Oct 2014 Visceral love
Edith Wharton
Hunters, where does Hope nest?
Not in the half-oped breast,
Nor the young rose,
Nor April sunriseā€”those
With a quick wing she brushes,
The wide world through,
Greets with the throat of thrushes,
Fades from as fast as dew.

But, would you spy her sleeping,
Cradled warm,
Look in the breast of weeping,
The tree stript by storm;
But, would you bind her fast,
Yours at last,
Bed-mate and lover,
Gain the last headland bare
That the cold tides cover,
There may you capture her, there,
Where the sea gives to the ground
Only the drift of the drowned.
Yet, if she slips you, once found,
Push to her uttermost lair
In the low house of despair.
There will she watch by your head,
Sing to you till you be dead,
Then, with your child in her breast,
In another heart build a new nest.
Next page