"asphyxiate" poems
Go asphyxiate yourself
On your dilusional thought of love
One day you'll find the one
And all your problems will dissolve
Your happily ever after
The true perfect match
that you cant spend a waking hour without dreaming of how much they mean to you
Grow old with
Every second of your life as long as you both shall live
Scrap book with and share vows of love
Love
Love
Your fairy tail ending with your Cinderalla and Prince Charming
Search for the eternal solution to loneliness
Your soulmate
Your other half
True love will set you free
Is that right?
Go **** yourself
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 7:12 AM UTC
Betwixt an atmosphere of a holy nature
By a classic serenade of Christian lullabies
Unceremoniously my body sways to the beat
For every moment that elapses
More and more I become electrified
As in the wake of your presence
A song of budding amour is evoked
Try I may to suppress this sensation,
Though upon a lie I'd asphyxiate
Please do not allow me to suffer
To languish within a plethora of
A sheer and utter coating of blindness
Darling forgive me if I impose
I avidly seek for signs of proof
To know if this is real
What would happen?
© 2011 (All rights reserved)
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 7:04 PM UTC
The cold grey clasp of Sunday
Skies blocked by an eternal ****** of crows
Fingers engrossed upon the neck
Asphyxiate existence from seamless seams
Decant the ocean obscene
Where once we were gone in a reverie
...Now only Monday is a day away
Waiting like a shadowed adversary
We obstruct our eyes
And wish the days away
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 9:12 AM UTC
.
Cohesion has been fragmented,
merely an old dissolved memory.
A shroud darker than pitch black
heralds the omni-directional strangler,
seeking to crush the fragile neck
and slowly asphyxiate the minds reality.
The turbulence of mute non-existence,
trapped in an endless glass sphere,
a cold snow-globe paper weight,
screaming for the end of the world.
Terror dissipates all common sense,
the inner head explodes and implodes.
A wracked skeleton of fevered flesh,
the violated remains,
beautiful and torn,
left,
when the butterflies of darkness
******
the fire.
© Pagan Paul (2017/19)
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
How wise I am to have instructed the butler
to instruct the first footman to instruct the second
footman to instruct the doorman to order my carriage;
I am about to volunteer a definition of marriage.
Just as I know that there are two Hagens, Walter and Copen,
I know that marriage is a legal and religious alliance entered
into by a man who can't sleep with the window shut and a
woman who can't sleep with the window open.
Moreover, just as I am unsure of the difference between
flora and fauna and flotsam and jetsam,
I am quite sure that marriage is the alliance of two people
one of whom never remembers birthdays and the other
never forgetsam,
And he refuses to believe there is a leak in the water pipe or
the gas pipe and she is convinced she is about to asphyxiate
or drown,
And she says Quick get up and get my hairbrushes off the
windowsill, it's raining in, and he replies Oh they're all right,
it's only raining straight down.
That is why marriage is so much more interesting than divorce,
Because it's the only known example of the happy meeting of
the immovable object and the irresistible force.
So I hope husbands and wives will continue to debate and
combat over everything debatable and combatable,
Because I believe a little incompatibility is the spice of life,
particularly if he has income and she is pattable.
2.9k
In a world of laughter
I was apart of at a time
Now glides with sadness
As the refugees shine
And there in the darkness
I can see someone's face
Wholesome with fear
In deliberate disgrace
Find the world's end
And summon the flees
Through the fires and cries
Lies this appealing disease
Of rotten flesh
And from human, to be born
Crucified, embodied, concealed
And still so adorn
Notify the states
Address them assured
To be swept with the scars
In a world unsecured
With the memories of a beast
White flesh and teeth
In written disconcert
And so, whom would I bequeath?
Of decayed discontent
In a black path of a rose filled garden
Hides the wishes of a ******
Broken by the pervading Janardhan
And where the blood may spill
I may not be for real
And in this nightmare I place myself
But where I stand my eyes congeal
Broken faces, smiles depart
So much love, ruled by lust
So much hate, driven by anger
Asphyxiate my disgust
My repel of this utter evil
Where a ****** proclaims
The absence of virtues
And the murderer of William James
For the only unseen
And the utterly disturbed
Comes a vision alive
And they're truly perturbed
Where their own flesh dilapidate
With their minds running amuck
And at everyone they will berate
And in my cage of silent betrayal
I will commence to cleanse my soul
My solid trust, broken, forever damaged
I can only hope for extol
And yet my own deceit
Will lead me to my fall
I still await this day
And truly bury my appall
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 5:19 PM UTC
nothing's instantaneous
temperance a requirement
change forever targeted
til self becomes fragmented
heart an aqueous soluble
erstwhile deliquescent
puddled into pulp
taken out like trash
fitting for an adversary
malicious and malevolent
destructive to the starling
plucked and plunged to sea
so drown to suffocation
laudable attempts at termination
inundate your consciousness
using barrages of indifference
convinced affection's unattainable
death deserted and companionless
auspicious in my loneliness
asphyxiate to expiration
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
(Preta प्रेत (Sanskrit) or Peta (Pāli) is the name for a type of (arguably supernatural) being described in Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, and Jain texts that undergoes more than human suffering, particularly an extreme degree of hunger and thirst. They are often translated into English as “hungry ghosts”, from the Chinese, which in turn is derived from later Indian sources generally followed in Mahayana Buddhism.)
The series of blurs that was summer 2006 makes me wonder what kind of evils we committed in past lives. What otherworldly desires plagued us with this need to feed upon the surging tidal wave of young blood? The days from May 16th to August 23rd were black mirror images, indiscernible. I kept the 1997 Honda Accord running, tapping my fingers to the beats of Built to Spill on the dashboard, waiting for you outside your father’s newly constructed home on ice. You would bleed forth, blue sun light reflecting off windows to face like an eight point filter. What we did with the day mattered not. It was as important to us as the script of action flicks. We were the only people that we wanted to know and we were the places that we wanted to go. The day lived and died, as the nighttime was when our karma sprung curse would take us. Turn off blurred screens, ignore details of the war, pull the hatch shaded curtains tight. We shared a bed in which we did not sleep, bodies silent, blaring alarms. The same hungry ghosts feeding and choking on ash all night. We burned out, successful slow turns into frail husks. It was then that we couldn’t get full anymore, we realized that we fit like clothes made out of wasps. It hasn’t gotten better for either, a ghoul roaming in the night, hunting for the next lay like a record skipping. We will asphyxiate on stones or have our throats burned by water. Hopefully we’ve suffered enough to respawn into more advanced forms. I hope I see you in the next life as anything else.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
I didn't think danger had a face,
I saw you and I saw red beauty,
Plump, ripe lips,
My strawberry kiss,
You taste just like chaos feels.
You sold yourself sweet,
Red beauty,
In every book left unread,
The only thought in my head.
I could never find a warm lover,
In eyes, cold as these tombstones
Which we now embrace.
Sunsets asphyxiate skylines,
Tear lines, fate lines,
I think God wanted to see his favourite fall
Tantalizing fruit, stains like wine
On the mouth,
There is red beauty in a kiss,
And angels aren't so kind,
But neither are you.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
Please excuse my drivel of words as I ascertain my inexcusable lustless love life.
However,
humor me for a second…
But I’m looking for Miss Alabama Worley.
Mississippi Isabel,
**** it, Lady Macbeth would do.
That ***** knows crazy.
Where is the incomprehensible insufferable beast?
That will take my heart in one foul swipe and refuse
Me rest till I’ve given her lust the spearing of a hungry tribesman.
I want the lock and chain around my ***** because my naked vulnerability
Is hers for the taking.
Beat me,
Oh monstrosity of the bedroom
Let the blood drip as I lick your foot.
Indulge me with the endless sweat and tears of the night.
And **** me like a rock star
Till I taste the rubber.
Where is the whirlwind passion?
Love at first sight.
And not the giddy looks of something Michael Cera starred in.
I am talking tattoos on the first date,
Reckless marriage doomed by the 50 pound ring on her finger.
Put me in a ****** east end flat,
Let me starve because ******* is food for the brain,
And her ***** tastes delectable when I’m high.
**** my brother in our bed,
I never liked him anyway.
A best friend is a man who’s shared the same hole.
And trust me, we’re closer than ever.
You’ll be all I’ve got.
I’ll sleep on the couch and crawl back to you,
Because I'm wrong,
I am always wrong.
Laugh at the scars on my wrists
Pity isn’t there for the taking.
Leave me shaking in the corners of my mind,
Let lust grow like anger and revenge
Let anger and revenge grow
When I go soft on you,
Put those cigarettes out on my chest,
And choke me; asphyxiate me from the inside out.
I want to burn in the hellish rapture
Betwixt your thighs.
******* fire in half an hour,
God knows where you got it from.
But those who care share, right?
But then,
Perhaps I’ll just end up like my parents,
Settle down with a nice girl.
A nice normal girl,
Missionary position isn’t that bad I ‘spose.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
Another poem from the pen of my alter ego Barry Hodges
Half asleep, I sense you rise from the bed
Where we have shared love's passion,
Your sweaty body glistening as the dawn's early light
Peeks through the curtains of our ensuite bedroom.
O! To think that our great love affair must end
Now that your husband has threatened
To asphyxiate your six dear children
If you do not cast me aside like a worn out shoe.
And when I awake fully I find you gone forever,
The only souvenir of our last night together
Being a small squashed **** lying on the stained bedlinen.
O! How can I ever forget such a tragic awakening?
*FOOTNOTE
[I knew from bitter experience of similar occurrences that dear old Mrs Bloggs (Seaview Bijou B&B;, The Esplanade, Ramsgate, Kent) was bound to make a hefty surcharge to disinfect the bedding thoroughly. What an unromantic old ***** she was, may she rot in Hell forever.]*
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 6:16 PM UTC
Its gone
Said and done
Drunken stupor for you
Pushes me to the edge
Conceals the pain
**** the truth
My lips are burning
My organs are on fire
Swallow hard have another pill
Go to the place that you know
Blackness taste the best
Just like china white
Mutilates my spine
Allowing you to implant this disguise
Annihilate the cells that can't speak
Asphyxiate on your own blood and pain
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
I am choking, on the things left unsaid;
I am drowning, in their dread.
Smothered by the weight of my own tongue;
Coating my larynx, begging to be wrung.
My breath, stifled by unwritten letters draining into my esophagus;
Strangled words, using my body as their sarcophagus.
That one day, when I'm stronger, I'll find the courage to excavate.
Until then, I'll slowly ,asphyxiate.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 5:02 AM UTC
Does it sting you?
The way I look at you
Because baby, you’re like alcohol
to my bleeding cuts
whenever you look at me
Do my kisses revive your being?
Because baby,
your kisses only **** me
as I inhale the traces
of nicotine in your breath
Do our songs make you yearn
for my fingertips
caressing your hands
as we drive into the night?
Because baby,
my internals screech
for your touch
Baby, I hate our songs
Do you feel yourself suffocating
every night?
As I step out
when you drop me off
Because baby,
I feel myself falling
out of your skyscrapers
and into the cold abyss
of black skies
Does the word goodbye
asphyxiate your lungs
as you enunciate it?
Because baby,
my lungs collapse
as my ribcage closes in
to hug them when
your hugs are no longer there
to contain me
Yes
I exaggerate
in the ways that I miss you
Yes
It hurts me
the way I love you
So let us say our goodbyes already
Baby please
just go
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 6:01 PM UTC
i am roused by paltry gasps
in the furrow of my consternation--
dizzying, still,
is the puzzling weight of vacuity,
my shapeless existence
where the wind has blown the weakness from your heart
and you've settled like ceiling-fan dust;
invisible, i asphyxiate
in sultry bated breaths
like the acrid smoke that seems to leave your lips
so romantically,
so gleefully anesthetized
in our secret place
where we pollinate the emptiness,
legs sticky with desire
and rapt with a fleeting symbiosis.
we awaken in ambiguity,
the taste in my mouth
is your yesterday's heaving tongue.
little lamb, sad-eyed baby,
thrush with too much touch,
always leaving in that heavy-eyed hurry.
your sweater brushes against my face,
i smell the paint that's stained a cold and ringed finger.
my senses are frenzied and willfully discordant
until you open the front door
and dissolve away--
dissipate into the realness of the day.
in my vapidity, i wait.
i wait.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
I write because if I didn't
I would choke on my thoughts
like a piece of half-chewed steak.
I would gag, turn red and meet certain death
from the inside out.
No need for first aid.
I write.
I write to express the dark and the heavenly
snapshots that sit undeveloped in my mind
potentially creating blurs and plaque over time.
I paint pictures with words in lieu of oil base
My pen draws me within
It is the high that I chase.
I write.
I write because words are my music
Poetry my score.
I close my eyes, disappear.
Shhhh. Can you hear?
That motion picture soundtrack?
The stories that play
havoc and bliss in my brain
are much more captivating than
real scenes too mundane to name.
I write
I write because without it I just couldn't breathe.
I'd huff and puff
And finally asphyxiate on just.... me.
Words are my blood
sharing life from my core
Yet my pain is tinted with rainbows.
Open me up;
watch me pour.
I write.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
Summer sets,
Summer, Summer, Summer…sets
Summer ***
Summer, Summer, Summer… ***
Summer sets in the *** of Summer,
Or is it *** that sets in the Summer of sets?
Can I have *** in your sets this Summer?
Or will Summer just set?
Let’s go back to basics,
Where the Summer just sets in the sunsets.
Autumn aspires to asphyxiate natures atoms
Because the Summer has set.
Oh let’s just have this last set of *** as our Summer fades and sets.
Make love to our least favorite song as the fire around us burns and resets.
Because tonight is the last night, that our Summer will set.
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 8:22 PM UTC
To your skin,
I write a thousand sonnets;
She recalls the rain.
To your smell,
I sigh a hundred ancient songs;
She sticks to me like toffee.
And oh,
To your eyes ...
To drown in silt stardust,
To smother in her hues.
To your hands,
I bow in thorns and roses;
She's grasped flesh and bone.
To your lips,
I grow ten dozen lilacs;
She carries the taste of your breath.
And oh,
To your voice ...
To asphyxiate in words,
To choke in her cadence.
And just as your veins will be empty of blood seven decades from now,
The tender love is fleeting.
But the rain still falls,
And the bones remain.
Aug 4, 2024
Aug 4, 2024 at 10:06 PM UTC
The transformation yields to no one;
Sugar cube swallowing
to stop the fury and fire dancing.
In your black and white blizzard,
there is a frenzy.
The gray is for all us hollow,
burnt and pricked, suffering the Consequence
and stepping on the broken glass.
You made a home beneath my skin.
I was swollen, but not for long.
I lived within the sun,
the skin, and the soul, It is just now
I found that I've been inside
of a tornado the entire time.
I say, my saving grace,
**** me in and spit me out once more,
Asphyxiate and resuscitate.
The next, you may be unending, on fire.
The flowers may grow again in your footsteps.
You grow and the world follows.
You put the trail through this forbidden wood.
I find myself pacing through its evergreen, ever-lost.
Your wind whips and the blades of grass
cackle beneath the sun, your rays
lash and burn and sting.
I still don't feel a thing.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 6:38 PM UTC
now i know why twenty-seven
is the age where
people bleed out in bathtubs,
or asphyxiate in the attic
swaying from an angry beam
with a face as blue as
the gown their mother wore
when she introduced them to misery
in a hospital,
or put a bullet to their busy brain
leaving a red Rorschach reminder
of their final moments
on the hotel room wall
that will only be seen
by a 42 year old maid
amidst a guilty type of jealousy
she doesn't understand,
or standing with shaky hands in a kitchen
emptying a bottle of aspirin on the counter
& greedily swallowing the little white teeth
following by gulps of water that feel like boulders
tumbling down a throat
with nothing left to say,
or even spreading their arms wide
like jesus on the cross or like a relative
at the airport waiting for a delayed hug
& jumping from the highest bridge or building
they can find so they can feel weightless,
once.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 2:06 PM UTC
some days i was proud of myself for not swallowing a bottle of pills; some days i refused to be proud of my six A's and one B. you try and try and try to love yourself but some days all you can give yourself is existence.
some days i had to force myself to eat because my stomach was too full of anxiety to have any room for a slice of bread. some days all you can give yourself is breakfast.
some days all you can give yourself is food and water and air and that is okay. but you are not allowed to deprive yourself of your existence. you are not allowed to deprive the world of your beauty.
some days it was really ******* hard but every night i tried to tuck myself in, every morning i tried to do something positive, and every day i tried so ******* hard not to asphyxiate myself with the trash bag that i keep under my bed because my grandmother doesn't deserve for her only granddaughter to die at the age of 17.
and here i am. i'm okay. i'm telling myself that i'm okay. right now i'm in a dark valley and i can't see the sun over the horizon but i still know that the sun eventually will rise. there are brighter days ahead of me, and there are brighter days ahead of you.
the only way to feel the warmth on your skin is to wait for the sun to rise.
wait for the sun to rise.
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
Sleepy eyes of mine
still catch sparkled hair
that whips across your cheeks
and the harder you try to
tame your beauty
it radiates in the sun
No matter how you try to bite
your smile back,
it creeps on
bringing light to
the petals of nearby tulips
dance
You're here
in the cloud scattering breeze
I see
you dropped your purse
and cheeks flushing
reached to grab it
but I beat you to it
Trembling hands brushing your hair instead as
quivering lips whisper "hi"
I don't have a number
because later doesn't exist
and the wind
could crumble us to ashes
if we chose not to speak
but in silent gazes deeper
we grow
as sturdy vines from our hearts
weaving and tangled
as if to asphyxiate from
locked lips and
clamped lashes
so tight as if to never let go
and we wouldn't
if braver blood raced within us
and we'd shed our yesterdays
if not for social graces
and we'd scream our hushed wishes
if not for red cheeks and cop locks
we'd set fire to the square
for it's bursting in our bellies
and longing to escape
and in the shade of summer groves
away from gas stations and
dancing flags
away from peering mothers
and curious children's eyes
our hope
it strikes the tears
to melt
with acid tongues
our discovering the truth
our fingers lacing stories
that we knit to hide our shame
but I want you
bruises on your back and
scars in your eyes
couldn't
scare these hands away
from stroking you gently
if you wanted it
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:34 PM UTC
Dearest Abstract,
tell me-
what color you drip when you laugh?
how many languages do you tempest?
when you cry, who spills deeper
you, or the rain?
You abridge me into a litany of mysterious elations.
I asphyxiate inside your rapid joy
and you drive me past my fondest entropy.
I fawn at your luscious humor.
Dearest Abstract,
take me-
outside the realm of plastic men
into the hive of the eloquent-
will o’ the wisp denizens
who flaunts shafts of pickled delight
like isolated pilgrim adventure.
Dearest Abstract
Allow me to dive into the furrows of your didactic faith
and there consume me raw.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
A wreck between the brittle pages, highlights surrounding the worst of me, all you can see
Page by page you skip, context clues hidden in the blur of the pages you flip, repeat
Written in secret code, you cannot decipher the honesty, writhing between ink you cannot see
Another chapter, another phase, whisked away in a horrid haze
Another typewriter that runs out of ink, no replacements to use, tear at the pages you continue to abuse
Asphyxiate sleeping while attempting to read the ****** breath caught in lungs, the bell has been rung
The ending nears, silence never ceases, look past everything, you're gone, deceased
Recall the heavy breaths resting between each paragraph, neglected, the mood you reflected
I reside on the dusty shelf, burned down in the fire, arson your burning desire
Crumple every inch, frayed beyond repair, you have no care
Leave the words to writhe in place, a mess to forget, a person to regret
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC