"agonisingly" poems
The keyboard on my laptop has witnessed too many tear drops
Fall upon it's ebony skin as I type,
Each articulation of painful thoughts
And agonisingly catastrophic formation of words
Forcing another wave of grief to pour from these
empty blue eyes of mine.
I have tried to keep my head above the water,
To contain the wildfire in my head
That threatens to spread and burn under my veins,
Aflame in every single bone in this hollow body
But now it seems comforting to let myself slip
Beneath the surface,
To let the fire turn everything to ashes.
It feels better this way,
To be a chaotic mess.
At least I know how beautiful I'll be when I open up my heart and mind to the possibility of destruction.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Desperate, so agonisingly glutted with yearning,
Yearning to hear my voice and to know that it resounds,
So roundly that I am all at once myself, And so much myself that I remember my eyes,
My eyes that have long been forgotten in cruel glass.
Cruel, cruel glass! I have long been abandoned, and long been a veil,
But such a thin veil that always would wane,
It's falling slowly now, like a prophecy fulfilled,
Get ready to see, get ready to be seen.
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 5:45 PM UTC
Johnny can't join
his daddy has no car
Michael can't join
they don't like his shoes
Ahmed can't join
he has a funny name
Bobby can't join
supports the wrong team
"What's going on?"
bellows the red-faced teacher
"You can't treat each other like this!
"Have you ever been excluded?
"Yes?
"And how
"did it make you feel?"
He ushers them in, muttering
though somewhat gratified
by the shame in their eyes
Then herds them through
to assembly
where the guest of honour
is the minister
who proceeds to explain
to the obediently seated rows
that if they don't see things his way
they will be eternally,
terrifyingly
and agonisingly excluded
from the great big party in the sky
And the teacher hangs his head
in baffled complicity,
defeated.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 2:56 PM UTC
Waves of sadness as you wave in my direction. I see you go, I watch you leave. Just as the seasons appear and dispose of me. We take turns walking away, from people we never talked to. Wondering why it hurts the same. Hating that it hurts as all of these people go. Sudden realisation hit us one by one. As we wonder, and walk, and wonder around all the topics we may have avoided. The thoughts we’re apparently devoid of. Introspect, retrospect, dissect ourselves in this critical moment. Nostalgia knocking us over making us think and making us feel, for once. A remarkable feat, it must be applauded. Ovation, overjoy, overwhelm. Over this. Over them. Over it. Time moving so agonisingly slowly, wishing away the years. Needing to escape, yet wanting to eternalise the way they make me feel. Nothing lasts forever. Maybe you should’ve, yet you didn’t. Now you’re all that’s left tell me how it feels. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t even seem right. Yet it’s a must and a miss you. The question has to be asked: why are you crying now? After all these months, why are you letting it hit now? Stay strong, be strong, be you. Be fearless and young. The golden years fade away into shades of blue and black skies. I wish you all well, and a happy birthday. Get well soon, get there soon. It’s all getting to me too soon. It’s too soon. How are we already here? We were all the way over there yesterday. Faces flash and second pass by with smiles. Frowning back, the question must be asked, why are you so sad?
Jul 22, 2022
Jul 22, 2022 at 5:51 PM UTC
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be.
For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
Let the poets write with fractured wrists
And bleeding fingers
Let them utter through broken lungs
And splintered tongues
About a lover they once had
And how they tossed their voice in the ocean
Because of misplaced devotion
Let the poets sever the silence
That spills from the sheets you lay upon
Where passion is long gone
Now you're wondering if this constitutes as love
But you've merely forgotten that his skin
Is a pretty cover for the bones that rot within
*Let the poets love you
Agonisingly sweetly
But never as discreetly*
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
there’s something so deeply and inherently terrifying about romantic love and attachment; it’s like giving someone a neatly written postcard detailing all of the various ways in which they could take your heart and pick it apart into a heap of broken fragments.
it’s the fact that you were so agonisingly in love with your sadness that i became (always was?) an afterthought. it’s like mum always said, “you are powerless in the face of someone who doesn’t want to be helped”.
i wanted to soak my skin in your madness and chaos.
to take all of the mismatched jigsaw pieces of your mind and will them to fit together enough to love me back even a little bit.
one day that you will realise that they are just boys. they are boys with closed-off hearts and cynical minds. with their inherent need to drain and empty you of everything you have to offer; with the burning desire to be both fixed and left alone all at the same time.
i actively avoid thinking about the estimated number of minutes i spent trying to burn the imprint of your fingers out of my lungs.
oh honey, one day all these valiant notions of self-sacrifice are going to get you hurt; you won’t know how to tell him that you are in pain.
that every time your knuckles brush against my lips my heart feels like it’s going to give up on itself.
i don’t know what to do with the knowledge that i am heartbroken over someone who is indifferent to my plight, someone who watched the cracks deepen and spread yet still chose to walk away. that’s the problem with feelings; you can’t simply pick them up and store them in a jar for later.
you left and i’m stuck with limbs which ache from the sheer weight of the feelings that i can’t shake.
with gentle fingers full of promise and parted lips you drew confessions from me that i swore would never come; you were messy and indignantly proud of it. your mess leaked into mine and for a few precious minutes we coexisted in our state of disarray.
your hands knew me far better than your heart ever did;
it must have been so dark up there, on the pedestal that i nailed you to. a martyr for your cause, i tried to tie your wrists to mine in a desperate fear of being alone again.
all i wanted from you was to coexist but you were never shy about telling me that, for you, that wasn't enough.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC
A street, ruined by Council workers
Never to be repaired.
A church, the dominion and focal point
Where only Satanists laid claim.
Two shops, one sold rancid
The other, overpriced.
Five hundred people, bored and doomed
Loyalists, who took pride in their version
Of Pandemonium, of Lucifer's funhouse
Of this cesspool of glorified
Rubble, this wasteland
Where only those who had given up,
Or that knew they would die
Slowly and agonisingly should, or could survive.
One castle, where brave Normans
Would frown and disown such a place,
And leave, rather than stay in such a disgrace.
To this place and it's inmate's I say
"you are nothing if not ordinary".
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
If I didn't have you
The sun wldnt
shine as bright
The stars wldnt
make me wish at night
The hands of the clock wldnt
Move agonisingly slowly
When I'm nt in ur sight
My heart wldnt beat
Slow and fast
And I wldnt want
Anything to last
I wldnt Hv a reason
to smile every morning
And I wldnt Hv a reason
For sleepless nights too
And I wldnt ever Hv love
In life
Baby If I didn't Hv you
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 2:05 PM UTC
(TW: Self-Harm and Suicidal Ideation)
I wish the night was more than a fleeting mirage
Coming one moment and leaving the next
I wish the darkness would surround me in its velvety cloth
Not the absence of light, but the absence of life
The darkness of total and permanent nothingness
I wish my capillaries, veins, and arteries would peal open
Slowly, agonisingly
I want to watch the final drop of crimson drain from my body
Creep slowly down my finger
Trancing the path already traced by his brothers
He will linger at the very tip of my nail
Before falling
Plummeting
Careening
Into the tiled floor
Only then will I shut my eyes
I will let darkness trail his supple fingers down my body
Encasing me in his eager embrace
He will wind himself around me until there is nothing left
But for a small white corpse upon a brilliantly painted floor
And no one will find me
Because no one will be left to care
Feb 8, 2025
Feb 8, 2025 at 5:49 PM UTC
I don't know why now, however I was gazing at this picture in which I was dressed in a black dress and your arms are snaked around my waist, my head inched towards your shoulder and your gaze falling on me, and suddenly it seemed so agonisingly pleasant how happy I was in that moment. And somehow all that happened between us didn't mattered looking at the picture, yes we aren't together now. In that frozen moment you holded me and I would have preferred no one else. In that snapped picture it was you and me for each other , loving ,caring , filled with affection . that moment captured in the photograph , I realised will remain like that always, that in that picture you and me will remain forever, lasting till it needs to fade, persisting in memory , in frozen times, in pictures ,in stares.
So maybe we are over now, but in some plane where there is no reason you and I still exist together, where there is no need for explanations, of lost love and evaporate feelings. Where you and I will last forever.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
The rich grass of Scotland is where I start my tale,
Upon a chance encounter of unforseeable importance.
It began as an offhand remark,
Of the two girls it was the boldness of one extremely shy,
'This sounds interesting' mumbled the mysterious stranger,
'Tis, fair maiden. And what be your name?' was the confident reply.
Delicate as a passing breeze she uttered, Tess,
A name beffitting such a gentle lass,
So fortuitous a meeting! I exclaimed to my friends,
For a chance like this I could not allow to pass.
The morning's sun steadily beamed down,
Whilst jet black hair flashed in the light.
Rays honoured to touch so pure a soul,
To kiss her lips my only goal.
As the enchantress weaved her spell,
Time languidly ticked by yet possessed a terrible swiftness.
The mornings bright illumination turned to mid-day haze,
The threads of past memories interlaced,
And with freckled face and a gaze that could sear,
Her form bestowed with elegant grace,
Such breathtaking beauty I had never glanced upon before.
Images of entertwined hands and passionate embraces,
whirled gayely in my thoughts.
With perception attuned to the highest degree,
All masks strewn asunder upon such potent a force.
Truth dripped from unguarded lips,
And an eerie, unfathomable ease crept over,
Past and present merging under sturdy oak.
Speed, precision and slight of hand,
A heart forever touched.
As pulses raced and breathe quickened,
I Stammered; thinking quickly before I lose my nerve!
Whispering 'may I kiss you?',
Agonisingly slowly, a smile danced along her speckled cheeks,
And without a word her eyes replied, a simple yes.
Transfixed they paused; nose to nose, heart to heart,
Hanging the unspoken words of romance and lust,
A mirror of compassion, understanding and trust,
And so it was, right from the start.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
sit with me, just for a while
tell me everything I did
to deserve this tragic fate
that is your love
tell me why, after all the good that I have done
why my life came to this
to you
to us
isn't it just cruel?
those endless nights I spent with you
trying to save you
when I couldn't even save myself
the sleepy days that were filled with your hateful words
your spiteful attitude
the insults and the way
that I was always wrong
you found pleasure
in leaving me lonesome
and almost broken
yet still agonisingly alive
and now that I am happy
and have found myself to be
at one with the world and her love
you think that you can come back?
for you can try to hold the past against me
and you can try to put me down
but months on
I am happy now
and I am the real winner here, my dear
because since you left
I have escaped fear, and all of his friends
I can smile proudly and truthfully
I can say that I won this battle
and it was nice to see you lose
because after everything you put me through
I no longer deserve your abuse
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
The weather outside is indeed frightful
Despite this the window is left ajar
To stop condensation engulfing
The already icy bathroom.
I disappear behind the curtain
Dressed in a much bigger version of my birthday suit.
Leaves are glued to that open window by ice.
I shiver, shaking until I have the courage
To turn the taps on-
OUCH!
An agonisingly cold burst burns my feet,
My right arm twists desperately
Until my skin starts to suffer a different type of burning,
My left arm mimics the dance my right performed just moments ago-
PHEW!
Finally the water overpowers my goosebumps
And perfection is created.
I can now unleash heaven out of the shower head.
I am being kissed by Niagara Falls.
Steam shrouds the room
And the music begins.
If only life were as perfect as this,
As perfect as a warm winter shower.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:47 AM UTC
History is such an integral subject
One if learnt from can change lives
It makes people realise; violence isn't the answer
It makes people think; of alternate solutions
Coming to the conclusion that
Peace, integrity and unity
Is the only way us humans can thrive.
We must learn from the past
After all mistakes are made to be a lesson
If this is done so
Many lives and livelihoods can be saved
Alas however the irony of our past is
We must watch, agonisingly , as history
Continues to repeat itself.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
!
She has
a strength inside her
that seeps out too bright
They falter to stand next to her
||
under her shadow
||
||
\\\//____
...
she has had pain
they have held it to her face
and flung it at her again and again
...
*
*
she
will not
falter;
*
but
when
the waves
of sorrow crash
< upon her heart 3
salt pouring into her
tightly bound wounds
she wrenches herself
together, gracefully
retreats to slip
away
and
agonisingly cry
till her liquid baubles
of pain are crystal dry
another layer of strength
crystallising her
in mind
...
yet
they only
see her strength
as a poison to overcome
and her foot steps though sure,
are placed with such delicate care
that no one has everthe courage
to follow her or dare Walk
on the high road to
redemption
...
instead they stay stuck in thier own reflection of pride
Made up of excuses and lies.
...
*
*
**
she is a
being of
light
*
*and
strength
despite her
humaness
* *and
frailtie
they are gifts
and can not be
un bestowed*
~ or ~
*\ /
torn her
from*
....
they can only create an ill-usion that satisfies themselves
In to a comfortable delusion on their road to perdition.
...
**
*
In
her
strength
she will always
overcome, it was
written on her**
soul
.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 3:46 AM UTC
By the good grace of the gods, those who have dared to taint my face with a welt, shall receive divine punishment - and not by those who are deemed mighty high above or the denounced who dwell at a plane below mantle and core. But by me, solely me, without maledictions or the intangible, me. Smote by my might. I am not a dictator, nor a man filled with ill-intent, though my words will be carved upon stone and actions dignified in blood. For me to be assaulted in such a haphazardly manner. As a conclusion to you actions know that death is your prometheus, death to your people, death to your land, death to your cattle. My violence exceeds the confines of your cranium, in a similar fashion my anguish extends across the lands; it will agonisingly, crucifying in arduity, mundane if it has to chase and chastise you to the proverbial end of the world. So, to whatever omnipotence you pray to (or do not), it is futile, you will be reprimanded and dealt with promptly, death to all those you love, death to the vermin you shelter in your home by the vignette oil-lit-lamp and the capacious pillow you so pompously lay your head. -
death to you.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 9:16 AM UTC
Why and where did you go?
You left so quickly with the breath of summer,
Like water from my own glass,
Evaporated into the clouds
To rain down once more
Elsewhere.
Regrettably added to my long list of wasted affections.
The midnight food runs,
The morning spent half-slumbering in each other’s’ arms.
Frivolous, cheap and broken.
You.
A riddle so complex
Simply beyond my comprehension.
So agonisingly pertinent.
Cutting, stinging in the crevasses of what I allowed myself to feel for you.
Gone.
Only a faded photograph in my memory remaining,
Water stained and torn.
By tears and confusion.
Dec 1, 2016
Dec 1, 2016 at 12:19 AM UTC
Her forever loving arms held onto me so tightly,
With her tear soaked cheeks pressed to my slowly aching chest.
“mum”
I whispered it so lightly,
Though only our heartbreak could hear the rest.
“Everything will be okay” I agonisingly reasurred,
She raised her head to meet my pretend smile, of which I cannot forget.
Her eyes so red and raw, from the unbearable pain they had endured.
Desperately soaking in the last of me to later recollect.
Falling back into me once again, I held onto her ruinous world even stronger.
I devotedly kissed her head as she wept, just as she did when I was younger.
Dad can you please take her, the pain is all too much.
Dad can you please remind her, that I love her so very much.
Your sea of strength caused fierce waves in my heart.
Your unconditional love gave my life the best possible start.
Because of you
I am Jimmy.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 8:11 AM UTC
i am not a poet
and certainly don't know poetry
but i can surely delineate
how your words
agonisingly tattooed to my heart
imprinted letter by letter
exclusively said to tatter
the bruised, hammered, worn-out, puny
piece of flesh under my ribcage
i am not a poet
and certainly don't know beautiful words
but i can still depict
the way i fall hard for you
once upon a time ago
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
Your loss is unique, to you... but just like everyone else, the pain of loss is pain. I've felt it, I've grieved uniquely over the years, I've felt it from both sides, suddenly I don't have my only brother anymore (car accident) suddenly I don't have my cousin (who was my other brother) anymore (he lit himself on fire, literally and died 7 agonisingly days later in hospital) I don't have my Dad anymore, watching him slowly die from Cancer... I laid at the end of his bed in the last week talking to him, he'd fall asleep in mid sentence then wake up asking why I was crying and then ask if I had a gun would I shoot him... Death ******* ***** for those that have to keep on living. For those of us that think we should have gone first because it would be easier for the ones who died first to cope... ******* ******** Those that would be left behind would grieve just as hard for us as we do them and we dishonour their strength by falling apart completely. There is no concrete end date to this life. We can only live with, love and cherish those who choose to spend time with us, if it's their time to 'shuffle off this mortal coil' without us then it's up to us to ensure their memory is golden, not **** the world off with anger they are no longer here but to gift the world with their memory. You are here, they are not, you can't bring them back but you can make sure they are not forgot.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 2:29 AM UTC
She could talk endlessly about
the way her gut the way her whole abdomen
pulses for just a few days each month
agonisingly cruelly internally she bleeds
she bleeds she bleeds she bleeds
She’ll write an article about a girl she knew
who stuffed toilet paper from the college bathroom
into her underwear because and she’ll quote
“it’s better than nothing” she eats one meal a day
at home and that is it
She’ll do a speech about how the
contraceptive pill can do psychological damage
she’ll mention the time her best friend
asked if Cilest is meant to make you
want to **** yourself
“At least her boyfriend is happy” she’ll say and
the audience will laugh as if it is a joke.
She’ll ask her manager if she can go
home because her *** is giving her
blurred vision and she is struggling to stand and
he’ll ask why this month is any
different to the others
She’ll ask you if you think it’s
fair that shedding lining costs money that
contraception costs sanity that pain is
only valid if you’re dying and
you’ll tell her to stop being gross and
she’ll say Only when you start listening.
Jan 27, 2020
Jan 27, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
I awake to a light shining upon my temple,
bask in the amber hues of dawn -
in the throes of fascination I gaze out
to a land magnificently vivid and beautifully drawn,
clouds that are semi-crescent wisps
remnants of a giant silken web spun,
mountains and mountains of pumice rock
from which crystallised water runs
field after field of emerald lemongrass,
hundreds of bovine cattle that stroll and graze -
a sky so agonisingly blue it near blinds the sun,
a picturesque paradise which can never be erased,
and as the trees around sway and bend
so does my fragile mind;
enthralled in this utopia and believing false perceptions
I take a step forward and leave reality behind -
heart crashing to a shuddering stop
as I catch a glimpse of my battered reflection -
alone in the semi-darkness of my bathroom
riding alongside the Devil on a one-trip road to perfection.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC