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I seek in Prayer that you would Forgive
This Uttering Whisper cense your Penance
By the Cross and Wheel for this Dharma, live
My own Locked Fortress that Demon's Seance
Mindful do the Scriptures from Heaven remind
That once a Duty to my Sister's Lord
Invoke this Baptist; To Salvation find
The Enfavoured Trust to your Bandaged Word
Then by your God's Hopeful Mercy relay
My added Petition you both be well
Across the White March Doves mirror that Day
You and his hand - Magnificent we tell.
Such was his Title. And Excelled at that
Knowing your Wound heals, I tip-off my Hat.
Alana Cartwright Jan 2018
I remember you as a dark figure, looming over me.
My repetition of "no" and "stop" was eventually absorbed into the background noise, ignored- As if I was not present to you, only my body.
Something about the way you overpowered me, until I had nothing left,
You stripped away every remnant of my worth.

Lifeless, with a broken heart, was how you left me.
You touched down in the banks of my hollowed soul,
Like an earthquake, shattered me down to my core.
Everything I built myself upon crumbled, and I was 6 feet underneath the rubble.
That was the last of me, the beginning of my end.

I lacked strength to face this reality, hiding from it instead.
Consumed by destructive habits to fill an ever-growing hole in my heart, I lost myself in a spiraling dark hole.

At the bottom of that hole, I with nothing left, surrendered myself to the One capable of healing.
After a long road of war waged on my soul, peace replaced my hopelessness.
The reality I hid from by using destructive habits to fill an ever growing void, I now face with a full heart, lifted on wings of praise by the Lord's grace.
My loss of self value was redeemed by faith. The scars on my heart, now bandaged, serve as a testimony to the power of God's healing.

Where I was once a ***** to my grief, I have been liberated. Where my soul was once lost, has been found.
Written in response to a recent trigger of suppressed memories. Before publishing, I revisited this piece several times contemplating why I was writing it. Two years ago I was introduced to *** by ****, and it stripped me of everything. I've learned, sometimes some weeds have deeper roots than you expect, and occasionally they will sprout up in times you least expect. By the grace of God I have grown to be stronger because of it, but only because I rely on His strength above my own.
Arianna Mar 3
"Roused by light
flashing in the flight of Firebirds,
I watch
the crescent-horned Nymphs of the grove approach
bearing the cornucopia of my ashes,
touching my bandaged hands in greeting."

***** without the body,
the Self alone remains,
suspended between remembrance and forgetting.

Sparrows pluck at stubborn scars...

"But the memory of the wounds that left them
is stripped with my skin.
I mourn not the leaving from living
half as much
as the loss of your touch,
engraved in the nerves of...

Unearthly limbs scatter the soot of late humanity
About the dormant pyre
Drinking the dark-eyed dust

... The threads are cut —
No more, no more!

Butterflies caress my wounds with their wings,
but nothing can remedy the Grief
of un-Being,
can staunch the wound of Loss
overflowing in Emptiness,
Absence
from the circle of my arms!

Melting as One,
reabsorbed
by the churning Sea,

No more shall we meet,
dimming between the shades of the Cypress trees...

The pyre exhales grapevines
Who will drink the wine of our memory?
Grasping at the final moments of consciousness
sifting for any trace of You at the precipice
of Infinity
as the final form of
Death
lays its gentle hands...
Hm.
Sarah Clark Jan 8
studying his
face,       luckiest
man on earth:

jokes about y2k,
and getting      old.
      new  normal:
bandaged
  stab wounds
and Abilify in
little      paper     cups.

leaning back in
my chair,
        reading the ceiling,
conjuring
the saint of
    shoddy aim,
misfires, doubt,
humor-

however slight
            in  our      distances.
Bella Oct 2017
I wear no sunglasses that Shield my
   eyes from the realities
       of this world
that put a Valencia filter over the
    things that I see or a sensor
        over the things that I hear.
I do not push the news stations
    through a small strainer only
        allowing the ”easy to
             handle”  stories to reach my
                 cup for me to consume.
I know that red is this world's favorite
    acrylic,
black it's favorite oil paint,
and blue it's favorite watercolor.
the painting of our world has red
    splattered across every
        building and seeping out of every
            wrist,
black in every sidewalk *****, every
     alleyway, and across
         every, screaming, mouth,
and blue welling in every eye.
I know this, but I have ripped the tape
    from my mouth, bandaged my
        wrists, and wiped my eyes
I have become comfortable.
opening my mouth
Like pulling the trigger of a gun
Aimed at anyone trying to Paint those
    colors back into my life
shooting their thoughts down making
    pastel bullet holes so the light can
         shine in.
I have become too comfortable.

I only come to this realization when I
    hear gunshots coming from a hand
        who does not know what it is
              holding
when I hear seemingly Innocent
     Voices say
“Well, why does it even matter,
if you've given a blow-job before, what's the hesitation to doing it  
     again?”
“ Because I said no.”
“ But you've already done it, before.”

I've told you, I do not wear filtered
     glasses.
but sometimes I forget that people are
     programmed with black paint on
          their brushes ready to cover over
               your mouth again.
I remember that as soon as I learned
     to rip the tape from my mouth
I realize that I can't just watch them
      bring the tape closer until they
           push it over my lips
I have to scream, as soon as I see it,
Because that is what my mouth is for.
And I have to fight to keep it of,
because that is what my hands and
      wrists are for.
And I have to look- not like the prey
      trying to stay out of sight,
but like a warrior with eyes like
       swords
and a mouth...
like a gun.
Maia Vasconez Dec 2016
My foreign friend once went through my bag and found a bottle of ibuprofen. She said I wonder if these are her anti-depressants because if so then they're not working. Once my friend, excuse the bruise, my friend thought the rope in my room was meant for a noose. Once I regected food all day and so she spooned the meal to my face. She said "good girl" when I made myself a sandwich. She used to cringe every time she saw my ****** up wrists. She said her dad ******* when she was a kid and once she took a pen to her own skin. She said you know that feeling when you throw up ice cream? and I was the only girl who got it. Who really, really got it.
So, I remember sitting in the park by the waterfront smoking flavored cigars. It's starting to get dark and your leaning on my arm. I wanna split a cigarette but you're saying how I always get the filter wet. You were both the hardest and softest girl I'd ever met. We got our cards read that weekend. The tarot lady said I'd fall in love, I said bring it on. Well, I remember nights in a used hotel room, wound up on the bed was the only time you let me hold you. I used to give you chapstick every time you asked for it. You said you only missed me when your lips got chapped. and those days we weren't friends were the worst ones that I don't remember too well. I forgot how we both pulled the devil when we got our cards read. What I remember is that you were there for the worst anxiety attack. It's still funny cause you're the only one in the room who was scared. And the next day I'm dead inside and somebody's in my ear telling me about how they're making an effort to be friendly and I'm the problem, I'm not reciprocating. You ask me why I'm wearing a hat, It's so I can hide my shame under it. Today I don't have a voice, I can't talk. Can't say what I'm upset about. And I remember somebody telling me that if I thought happy I'd be happy which lead to break down sobbing in the bathroom and you came in and talked me out. You never blamed me, never thought what happened to me was my fault. And you listened to me spew about what it's like to have no friends and to hate yourself so much. And you didn't ask questions... you just loved. Loved, loved, loved. So much that I saw it building up in myself. That first jump into the pool in our sweaters and sharing showers and drying in the sun. Listening to you mumble in your sleep, combing through your hair with my thumb. And you said the first time you saw me you thought ****! Another girl that's too pretty. I think we should still be... lying on a sun lit deck. You're reading my books, I'm wearing your shoes. We should still be out on the lake, eating lunch in one of those big red canoes. We should still be jumping off the dock, yelling when the fish swim near us. We should still be up on a hill where we can smoke and watch the sunset fall to dusk. I should still be waking up late in your tent and stealing the blankets. We should still be up all night talking politics and arguing semantics.
So yes, I remember lying in your arms those last few nights while watching shooting stars. Those nights I wished so long and hard to never feel lonely again, I realized this summer that's my biggest fear. And this summer! This summer I feel healed! You bandaged me up so the good bye was rough. I felt like child peeling old band aides off.
Before she left she told me what I needed to fix about myself. In our soggy t-shirts, we have our toes diped in the water. She grabs a pool noodle out of my hands and as she bends it in demonstration says I have no back bone she can take whatever she wants, she can just have it. I'm too flexible. But she opens up, tells me about the guys she's ****** and how she's never really been in love. She tells me about her girl crush. She says if I'd told her I'd loved her first, "like I SHOULD have" then she'd of been crushing on me instead. I just wish I could have been the one to drop her off at the airport. I helped her pack her bags and watched her slam the car door shut. It's different when you're forced to be apart, she didn't have the chance to make me hurt. I count the miles that seperate us. Guess I'll just love her from a distance.
This is probably the longest thing I've ever written. I've been working on this for a month and a half I think but I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's a true story, my summer with a British girl. We were in a big city but also spent most of our time in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Anyways, suggestions always welcome!
Samantha Aug 2018
That, that right there.

           Did you feel the spark? That glint of hope, the shadow of a light heart?

                    I know it hurts. Tell me all about it. Give me every burning, searing detail, explain every ***** and every bump and every dip.
        
                         It's been through a lot, I see. It's all bandaged up. It's heavy and it's scared and it doesn't particularly want to work anymore, just staying alive is enough.

                                   Enough of this ache! Lock me up, keep me safe, don't let anyone in, don't let anyone stay.

                                            Work it out. Work it through. And one day, laughing with the wind, looking at the sky, whispering thoughts to yourself, having time, so much time, you will feel that glint of hope, and that shadow of light will become tangible, fierce.

                                                 Keep your heart engage. Keep your feelings connected. You'll need them, my dear, there's more love to come, there's work to be done.
heartache strong love
Johnny Noiπ Sep 2018
brown to hide something magical meaning
of dreams in every place & bind
at the tips w/ silver, & he fell down
upon the minds of the first-fruits
& having pulled away from the cause
of the skin, the battle to say that to the girls,
He became a book, & will not be
comfort; sand marriage confidentiality
I am, however, might not be altogether
to spread the paint force over the board;
Russia partnership gale skin window
Was not wont to solve the threats search
He saw his fingers ask you to park in humans
He speaks with reading; Iowa prom &
drinking glass cops; Now started to eat
a few churches; to write small
she felt the base was broken,
English fool iota of origin eyes high
is no more of the matter of the peak
what is the state, also calf care, the game
is a walk; out of the rat they were filled
with conflict, The same place; Michael;
I was taken out of the running cases,
bandaged food with friends
Devices playing music revolution
Scientific knowledge and secretary general
In the dorm alarming clinical Loren,
painting teaching of ******* *****
Elegant heir; by that which is called the breath,
Of the guys from the board and to form
in the power of the club, however,
who hath been tried faculty, and the feet
of the bath having been crowned,
The words of the Lord;
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
[endless ode on Marilyn M.]

The language of both is starting the field football
daughter watching her hair's hidden lives having
socks that can beam the skin w/out visiting the
crazy Museum, coveting the ****** thinking pen
& starting a conversation to know that Daniel''s
six six six suites; ****'s wilderness of a dying man
in the flat sense of the ghost; simply the first thing
he drinks ,a happy life's dark corners warm-up
a sport to be regarded as the goddess,   widely
in a lot of light stands the sweating
of the enemy,     he had been on the mountain,
& sat down so that 1 day's proceedings;
Cheap Flights to greatest movement augers lucidity,
always keeping the Jewish prospects toward the Society
of the lady & the permission of the individual,
a stranger to the mountain-barrier,           & in the street
of a stomacher,            w/             pictures of the human
*****, so that God, thanks be to sell it,          as one
remembers the dreams of a matter
of no importance to the visitor,
a madman in the Museum,              covetous of a fool,
I took hold of the pen                     & he began to send
a messenger in full, Jack,       six times six of clothing
& ****, in the wilderness,
a dying man,                                 he fully in the Latin
sense gave up the ghost's
qualifications in the first meet       a man for drinks,
& have a happy life, part dark,       the warm-up sport
to be regarded as the goddess is widely held to be Loved
in the light of, or in that they sweat,     the enemy turned
to their visions of the mountains,         settled in to order
to 1 day of the Attorney before broadcasting bright,
always keeping the Jewish facing society managing
to allow everyone to visit the hill opposite the street
where they sell a bandaged pictures of the human
***** may thanks prostitutes to remember his dreams;
1 volume slip crew sheath to buy face now, alas,
mean lady's,      from the morning watch even until night
by medicines the fate of the queen; The language of both
is starting field football daughter watch the hair hidden
lives have socks talking radius of leather to visitors
in the crazy Museum,   coveting the ****** thin pen
& starting a conversation to know Daniel,
these men drink ***, clothing,        **** wilderness
dying man flat sense of the ghost simply
the first thing he drinks a happy life part dark,
the warm-up a sport to be regarded as the goddess
& wide in diameter the light, to stand in the sweating
of the enemy, he had been on the mountain,
& sat down to me again the day they were,
Flights to greatest movement augur lucidly,
always keeping the Jewish prospects toward
Society of the lady the permission of the individual,
a stranger to the mountain-barrier,
& in the street of a stomacher, pictures
of a human *****, render thanks to God
in a manner, that Her stockings were yet talking
to him w/ the rays of the skin, hearing the things
of which is not of the visitor to a madman's Museum,
covetous of a fool, & I took hold of the pen
& began to send a message to tell Jack these men
drink & women,
Clothing for ****, the wilderness, the dying man,
he fully in the sense gave up the ghost qualification
at the first meeting, where a man drinks & has a happy life,
part dark, the warm-up sport to be regarded as the goddess
is widely Love the light, & on the sweat of the back
of the enemy,      black Visa favorable
to do the day of the Attorney before broadcasting
bright, always keeping the Jewish facing society
manage.  allow everyone to visiting hill opposite the street
w/ a bandaged picture of the human *****
maybe,    he thanks the prostitutes to remember his dreams
I roll slip must belong to the order's face;
oh, now it's mid-lady from morning to night,
the fate of the Queen by medicines; The language of both
the starting field football's daughter watching the head
of the hidden life socks that beam out of the skin
is not visitor crazy Museum wants to be ******,
thin pen started conversation know, Daniel six six suites
of **** in the wilderness, he left a clear sense of the ghost;
simply the first drinks, happy hiding warm mocked
be regarded as the goddess,  & widely casts    a lot of light,
rise ye away the sweat of the enemy,
had been to the mountain,
sat down by 1 day of the advance of Attorney
to the greater movement of the lucid propaganda,
always keeping the Jewish prospect
is toward the Society of Mary, the permission
of the individual; a stranger to the mountain-barrier,
& the street of the bandaged picture
of a human *****,               rendering thanks to God
the seller & I remember having dreams,
a matter of note is the visitor, harmful
to the Museum,                               cheese w/ a fool,
a small pen began messaging to overturn
a jack six of six & clothing dregs
of The Wilderness in the dying,
& fully in the sense they gave up the ghost
absolutely first to meet a man, happy life,
the dark, the warm-up of the game
will be like a goddess widely loved in the light of God,
they see the enemy,     more sweat,
itching is set to 1 on the attorney at the pool always
magnificent Jews such company manage
each visit the hill opposite the street w/ ashes
on the board to give the human *****,
prostitutes came dreams, remember roll fallen crew
1 sheath to buy face now, Alas, the lady's mean
by from the morning watch even until night
by mendicants, the fate of the queen;    The language
of both the starting field football's daughter watching
the head of the hidden life socks talking radius zone
to w/out the visitor to the crazy Museum wants to be ******,
this pen started the conversation to know Daniel
& these men, drink, ***,          clothing sediment wilderness,
he left a clear sense ghost simply the first thing
were seen, that the happy life of a part of it is dark,
warm-up from the training school shall come to pass,
as the goddess of vast diameter of the light,
& stand forth in the sweat of relief from the enemy,
that he had been there in the mount,    & he sat down
to me this day, there are Flights to the major movement
of the propaganda lucid, always keeping the Jewish prospect
is toward the Society of Mary,
the permission of the individual
a stranger to the mountain,
the opposite of the street of a fascist image
of the human *****, thanks be to God,
such as Argyle socks & he spoke according
to the rays of the skin,           to hear why he is the visitor,
harmful to the Museum of Cheese w/ a fool,
I took hold of the pen he began to till I might send anger,
to overthrow, Jack, this drink & the supply of clothing
& the dregs are in the wilderness of him that dieth,
he is fully a sense, gave up the ghost qualification
in the first to meet a bear robbed of her drink,
'blessed are aspect of life', held spellbound;      A Rarity
warm-up goddess widely mocked be love light sweat
& the enemy behind makeup before a lake suitable
to the day clear attorney always in control
of the Jewish one's company to visit the grave
of bandaged pictures of the human ***** on the street
as prostitutes actions to slip, so remember
to roll dreams,     Oh, face the lady, now Queen Fate
of the drug of the languages of morning & midnight
Cat J Noyce Jul 2018
There are words I dare not speak,
Truths I know to be.
Only real things are worth lying about.

How many more lovers will we lose?
Look at our makeshift bandaged souls.
Will we be too broken for each other then?

Bite down; be wise, be careful
Love as you should.
Let those ships sail away.

Dreamlord, take away my longing.
Eric Feb 25
I lie alone among the walls
Everything is grey and white
I got fool moon in my eyes
I am on my way to satellites

Sweet young nurse,she said I was the worst
thing she could recall
Or the worst thing in this zoo
Is it monday or a tuesday
Or a ******* 21st century
The cuffed me to the bed
Til my hands and feet turned red
They said I am a mess
5 minutes from the Davies chest
There was a white-haired guy
He looked like retired god
Finally at his place
In his greek-styled cloth
Everyone fell off the wagon right into one place
They got spaced minds and swollen faces

The are all insomniac junkies and gods
They got snakes in their boots
Doing their time on a farm, they are all on the rush
And every time the nurse walking by the all have a crush

We are stuck for eternity
For many nights and days
On a halfway to sanity
To get back to our ways

Treacherous sun brought us some news
Blinded my fool moons
This wasted afternoon
Somebody may never get out of this place
Some races end in here in disgrace

Bandaged body over me,no sign of breath
First rays of light brought the first harvest of death
Catherine Dec 2018
Darling,
they say they miss you,
the girls from the dance club,
how your moves radiated potency.
the orchards at the end of valley,
how you traveled for miles to water them.
the homeless members from the filthy place,
how you were never disgusted by the party of flies

the alcoholics, the abandoned, the pimps,
how you welcomed them to your heart,
and those suffering from weird illnesses,
how you bandaged their wounds
even I miss you,
how you told me to be kind,
they say your presence gave them hope

"Huh,
I think it is funny  
how they say shamelessly that they miss me,
cos none of their deeds showed appreciation.
I gave my all,
over-watered the flowers
until there was nothing left in my bucket,
I saved them from their demons,
Only for the demons to make friends with mine,
they should have asked me,
whether I was also okay,
traveling for miles,
just to show love.

I am sitting on an abandoned porch,
telling the players in my head to shut the **** up,
because I have no one to save me.
the banging is too loud
and I have a gun on my head,
don't weep for me,
just tell them to love unconditionally,
and give selflessly,
but never forget to tame their demons,
and to ask each other how everything is

tell them again,
that this cruel world needs kind people
people who receive and also give an ear to the givers.
A personal write of giving selflessly and having no one to turn to.
HER KNOBS WERE STATIONARY & like the Eiffel Tower
she was tall & French-like. Her knees were bruised & bandaged
as were her elbows. I marveled at her regal bearing & the way
she acted like that ******* Prince Phillip. Cautiously I approach-
ed rearwards not wanting to exhaust or frighten, I held my stun
gun an inch from her nape & let her have it. She fell like a bur-
lap bag of ****. I consider it all part of my police training,
an out-cropping of my United ****, I mean Nation's,
humanitarianism, a side-effect of public education.
⚡⚡⚡ Passing daily by our house comes a flabby, greasy-haired, unkempt, bearded man with a massive tattoo on his calf that's perennially bandaged & thus, apparently, infected. He wears flimsy pajama bottoms graced with Elmo from “Sesame Street.” He's accompanied by two dogs and a beautiful, small-breasted, high-cheek-***** blonde woman (age 20) of Russian extraction. What does it mean? Does she owe him a debt eternal? Did he rescue her from bear-attack, from the Bolsheviks or from the plague? Did he give his corneas & kidneys to her? Can he not *** & see as he once had? ⚡⚡⚡

— The End —