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Nobody Oct 2017
That's right baby, come on over here.
Close enough so I can smell you,
long for me, touch my hair.
Put your hands on me,
I got you right where I want you.
Always grossly staring at me,
with those googly eyes.
I ******* despise
your sick pervy eyes.
Oh don’t act so surprised,
What you don’t recognize me
with my disguise?
It’s too late for you anyways.
You didn't even notice
I slashed open your vein.
Now It’s your turn to be tortured for days.
I’m gonna ******* open
with your own blade.
Flay you alive, now I get to play.
Slowly rip out your intestines to burn,
make you shriek as I pick open your brain.
  Nail you through your **** to the wall,
as you whimper ‘please **** me’.
Staple your lips closed
to quiet your screams.
Cut at your heart, pick out your eyes.
Laugh as you suffer,
while you try and weep.
Now you're wishing to god,
you never laid your ******* eyes on me.
Caeden Regester Sep 2018
Their skin is so beautiful
Their skin is covered in hair

It's my job to wipe that all away
Bring out their beauty, fresh anew

I get to work, scraping blade
The hair begins to fall away
We're happy as
I do my job today

But then I slip up,
Slicing into them
Their hair remains and
They're in pain

I resolve to do better
Return to the job at hand
Only to slip again
Cutting even deeper still

over and over
deeper and deeper

I just want to do my job,
I just want to release their beauty
For all the world to see

But again and again, I wound them ever deeply
When will I get it right?
When will I learn from my mistakes?

The bleeding won't stop.
Lily Nov 2018
Desire
Balanced
On the edge
Of a blade

A well dressed man
*******
An untethered label

A bottle for two
At an uncleared table.

A twist
Of the wrist
To the pouring
Of wine

To dripping lips,
and kissing
between sips.

His hands
to my hips

His tie
To my wrists.

His kiss.
Nobody May 2018
I welcome the silence from the middle of the night;
I was counting on the cover of darkness,
but look up to see a full moon, giving me a watchful eye.
I unsheath my pistol, but decide it will be too loud,
I don’t want to leave any witnesses behind;
so I slip into your tent, without making a sound.
Smile as I see you lying helpless in a dream,
walking closer to your bed;
I start crawling on the ground.
Slowly slide my blade out,
stealth like a cat;
It's quiet as a tomb.
I’m inches from your face,
close enough to smell your breath.
I place the cold metal to your neck,
swing my arm once to the side;
your blood is black in the moonlight,
gushing all over my hands.
You wake and grab your throat,
start swallowing blood, and choke.
I watch you try and put up a fight,
you squirm, and stare, with dying eyes.
So I stick you another time,
in the side right through your heart.
Warm blood licks my face,
too bad it took more than one slice;
for your body to go limp.
Finally your death has come,
I’m free from the burden of your grip.
Oh how I love the gentleness
Of your sharp and tender touch
Your hand moving along my skin
Making its way around my mouth
Gently touching my lips
And along my neck and chin.
You could never make me bleed
You are the only one that's what I discovered
You are truly the only one  I need.
And I let you  down in search of others
They could never treat me like you do.
Now they have gone so I am asking please
Your the only one please hear my plea to you
Let us stay together we have got it made.
And now I have to let you know
You are my one and only blade
Your hand so steady  your razer sharp
You give to me that perfect shave
All those years trying to find that perfect Razer blade
I have now found my perfect Razer blade that lives up to its reputation
Such a smooth shave .
emilienne 09 Jul 2018
are you under the impression that you are awake right now?
pay attention to the time that's left, it moves so strangely now
clinging tightly to the blade and all your truths are running down
clinging tightly to the blade and feeling like you're going to drown
this is not life, this is an unsteady decay and you are running out of hours
to contemplate new endings, wondering why you got this life
Molly Nicole Oct 2017
Cracks in my character
Lined with silk
Lovers touch
Like a sharpened blade
Gliding smoothly
Only painful when removed
I'm a story book of unfortunate events and cliches
And the morbidly curious find their way
Into my arms
A comforting fear
A lion taming circus

I'm not sure anymore if this gun
Is still loaded with flowers

But you
Hold me so tight
Squeeze out the anxiety
Catch it
Make me a balloon animal with its breath
The most beautiful rebound.
Livaille Oct 2017
flowing river, crashing rain
together troubles sow,
       yet do not mend.

a silent sorrow,
sullens sour solitude.

light mist envelopes autumn,
west wind waves the water,

wind follows blade,
blade follows rain,
rain follows clouds.

soundless slashes scatter clouds,
blossoms fall on flowing water.

memory of spring dazes gaze,
alters flow as whirlwind dashes,

summer's sunlight sets,
dual waltz of lotus leaves,
in memory of cherry blossoms.

blurred shadow forms a phantom,
menacing mist chases hurtling haze,
snow sinks deeper than a dream of snowy winds.
Carter Ginter Sep 2014
White, my hands of ice
Warmed by the chilled blade upon my palm.
A touch of red
Blurs pink.
No light,
Just white, and fade
The frozen air begins to warm
as the water drips from my soul
onto the bedroom floor.
Josiah Israel Jan 2017
by— Josiah Israel

Twas oft the way in days of old,
When knight would battle brave and bold,
The damsels hand in hopes to hold,
Worth more then polished Stone, or Gold
For this is what a boy is told
When day is done and night is cold…

“One day my son, thy chance will come
Though courage oft may waver,
When lady waits, through sable gates
For thee brave lad, to save her!”

For when a dragon stole a maid,
Awaiting ransom duly paid,
Twas bravest knight, armor arrayed  
With noble steed and burnished blade
Rode swiftly to the damsels aid…

“You have not birth of high degree
Yet be thou brave and fight,
For low in rank thy birth may be
Yet heart makes noble knight!”

And after facing beast and foe
The knight with maiden free would go
Away to fields in need of ***
For seeds ere winter need to grow
And none can reap who do not sow…

“Not all you do will win a prize
Of gold or silver bent,
So reap a harvest good in size
And be thee well content.”

And when the battle horn he hears
The knight must banish all his fears
And ride to war, with battle cheers
On maidens cheek alight her tears
Fearing death, she spends the years…

“To win renown in battle
Might also be your path,
May your enemies armor rattle
As they feel your righteous wrath!”

But after kings campaign is done
The knight to home will swiftly run
From dusk through night to rising sun
Till maiden sees her hero come
Heart moving swift, a beating drum
Yes she the prize which first he won!

“Home is best at warring's end
To be with those you cherish,
A place to rest, your wounds to mend
Where love will never perish”

Though all the kingdom knows his name
And minstrels spread the brave knights fame
His love for she, remains the same
And they live happily, Knight and Dame…
I love the medieval Ballad kind of poem. Alfred Lord Tennyson was my inspiration for this style :D
Devon Brock Aug 6
Same dull knife that ain't been sharpened in years.
But the fingers conform to the worn familiar grip,
between the sweat seasoned tang
and the callous building heel.

Same old blade, same old balance,
that once never bled the eyes
with blasts of sting onion vibes,
now cuts with a thump,
the panic of propane
clings to the nosehair,
with each successive
crossgrain slice.

Same old blade, same old balance,
used to slice garlic thin as almonds,
now gotta lean heavy on the clove,
snap-busting compounds as unstable
as this thin crust hand cracking
the sulphur vents of Vesuvius.
i dragged the blade across my skin
and bled the pain away
the curse that flowed around within
no longer had to stay

i huffed and could no longer feel
if i was still alive
and asked for beatings hard and real
to help me then revive

my face had blackened here and there
i morphed into one dead
i had no time to eat my hair
had left my waning head

in time i withered like a leaf
as autumn did arrive
and knew just by the weight of grief
my corpse was still alive

but one day as i sat in bed
and found an empty pad
i wrote the tale of my life's dread
the mourning of the sad

i cut the forms of letters there
the pen unstopped had bled
the curse into the morning air
and i would live instead

(C)2019, Christos Rigakos
Jaxey May 1
i watch the ink run down my arm
the pen, writing the feelings
i could never explain with words;
sitting on my bathroom floor
never led to anything
but unwanted art
pain isn't worth unwanted art
Brody Blue Aug 2017
Under the tree of the university
A shadow was gruesomely cast.
The branches made too much shade
And there grew no grass.
No one would lie under its wood
Down beside its trunk;
It wasn't essential, there was no potential,
Claimed the revered monk
But late at night you'll find him lying in the dirt
Wearing a Paisley Poplin Shirt

The click of the gears define his years,
A cycle on a chain
A cloud of sand thrown by his own hand
Hones forth his pain
He blows seeds of dandelion weeds
****** a ****** field
And he pretends that he intends
To reap this horrible yield
Because unintentionally he subconsciously convert
To one who wears a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Covered in rust, a blade he adjusts,
His mind remains unwrung
The words to speak were too **** bleak
So he cuts off his tongue
He'll be finished when he's diminished
These humanly sights
If there's no vision at the end of his mission
He'll gouge out his eyes
And Helen Keller takes one of her old ragged skirts
And fashions him a Paisley Poplin Shirt

Why must we be obsessed
With the unseen
When we know we cannot
Make something out of nothing
And to those of you who think that you cannot be hurt
Stones go thru a Paisley Poplin Shirt
Song Lyrics
Apathy Mar 2013
A red raven calls as her dark blood runs true.
The roar of the night, and the sky still cries blue.

And heaven can't claim the tear stained soul
Caging the pain of a smoking white coal.

A longing lost heart that grasps for life
Strings clinging tight to the blade of a knife.
Carter Ginter Mar 2013
Burning desire
With a flickering flame
A bright shining sword
With a double edged blade.

It's win or lose
Sink or swim
This ocean of possibilities
That I'm drowning in.

But there's no single way
To define who I am
So why even try?
Labels aren't worth a ****.
People are not cans of soup that can be labeled. We are who we are and that can so easily change.
Ask 7 different people who I am and you'll end up with 8 different answers.
Really bothers me when people try to live by or up to their labels. And when other give them, ruining potential possibilities.
Michael Solc Jul 2014
I can feel
her absence,
like swallowing
a cold
knife. 

The blade 
slices slowly,
deeper
with each
heartbeat.  
Tasting 
sorrow
like copper. 

A cold
steel shard
that rests
against
my heart. 

But will it cut?
Can you still bleed?
Do you love?
What have I done?

A calamity has befallen me.

My heart lies impaled by a blade of my own design, beating in agony.

Across from me I see her, huddled over the blade, her hands crimson from its edge.

Her tears descend upon my heart like broken stars, burning into the flesh, down to its very core.

What have I done?

Amid her shrieks of pain, I speak words of remorse.

Amid her words of sorrow, I try to mend what has been broken.

But I have exhausted myself. I haven't the strength to lift my heart off of the blade.

In the midst of my struggle, I see a figure, one who I believe at first to be the Solitude, come to torment me with my failures.

But it does not speak.

Where the Solitude mocks me, the figure remains silent.

Where the Solitude glares harshly into my soul, the figure merely gazes.

It does not show its face, but it breeds a sense of familiarity.

A Spectre, in my own image.

With ease it lifts my heart from the blade, but with its touch the heart turns black.

It is devoid of any other hue, engulfing the cracks and scars that plagued its surface, it is unified by darkness.

It is beyond recognition.

The Spectre extends the beating void to me, in silent offering.

But I refuse.

I shall not allow myself to succumb to the cold absence it will bring.

I would rather endure, if only barely.

Yet, as I turn away, I see her. The one who once held my affection.

The one who tore down my fortress. The one who showed my future in her eyes. The one who left laughter and serenity in her wake.

With another.

Turning back, I take the creation of the Spectre, without hesitation.

As it takes its place, I hear the echoes of all the tender words she once spoke to me, yet they carry a harsh timbre.

I feel the fire of passion I once carried, yet it creates only ice.

I see the memories once cherished, but they have become pale and morbid.

"What is this feeling?" I ask the Spectre.

I cannot see its lips, but I know it smiles at the inquiry, before uttering a single word:

*Hate.
yúyīn Jan 2017
And for that second,
The blade ripped across the surface,
tearing the flesh apart,
letting the blood run free.
I've forgotten every problem I have and had.
The pain was my escape,
and it will always be..
Sighhh
@.**
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