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Lynnia Jul 2018
We were dueling with sparks
Now we’re juggling fire
Flame still starves in the dark
Never beaten or tired
Doesn’t dim with age
It can’t be blown out
Still alive with rage
Feeding on your doubt
It doesn’t think
And it can’t feel
Driven to the brink
Craving its next meal
Anger scorches your soul
Many have learned
If you play with fire,
you’re bound to get burned.
Anger scorches you from the inside out and letting the blaze speak for you has its consequences.
Ashleigh Black Feb 2015
It's like you never left,
the way the air still smells
of that cheap dollar store cologne
and of stale Marlboros and whiskey.

Your phantom hands ran through my hair
and ghostly lips sunk into my neck
and I could not help to think I heard you say
"oh honey, oh, how I've missed you."

But all the while my eyes were closed
I hadn't realized something:
that the window lay cracked wide open
and the wind blew out the candle flame.
Alexander Aug 15
I want someone to notice me.
It actually physically hurts to know,
No one does.
I’m ok, just for the people who aren’t
Danny Wolf Feb 2015
Skin torn and charred,
Leaking green.
Burned myself
a long road
So I’d be sure
To get lost along the way.
I wanted to get deep,
Find my bones-
It was the only way.
Learned to love
what tears the deepest.
Moms in the corner
holding back tears.
Red eyes,
Bearing all the weight.
Dad can't even look at me,
Dad can't even breathe.
They told me
I tolerate the pain,
So stoic.
“She’s so strong,
so brave.”
They don’t know
I’ve been hurt worse.
Become accustomed
to the pain.
They don’t know
I wanted to get deep,
Find myself-
It was the only way.
Burn through flesh
And bleed,
Turn myself inside out-
It was the only way.
Chay May 18
I am a candle.
I'm not the best at lighting up a room,
and I melt when I get over heated.
But I would do my best to light the way,
just for you.
But then when you found a flashlight.
A light that a little candle couldn't compare to.
You didn't need me anymore.
So you turned towards me and blew out my flame,
and you left me burned.
Carter Ginter Apr 2013
Anger flows freely as the blood in my veins,
The only thing that remains constant in this life of mine.
But it hurts,
And it's a struggle every day.
When every emotion falls back into flames of anger,
Those standing on the side end up getting burned.
The ones I love,
The ones I'm supposed to care for unconditionally,
Only strangers when I lose control.
I have the will to fight on my own;
Letting people in never worked well anyways.
Not when the world is this corrupted.
Trust is for those who haven't been deceived,
Love is for those who can keep their cool
And living is for those who aren't already dead.
April May 2018
I am the lightbulb
That burned out last night
But no one sees until morning
Sabila Siddiqui Oct 2018
I would've torn myself
limb from limb
to appease your hunger
but you still would't have wanted me.

I would've broken my bones
to build you a throne
but you still wouldn't have wanted me.

I would've wrung myself dry of blood
to quench your thirst
but you wouldn't have wanted me.

I would've skinned myself
to stitch you clothes
but you still would't have wanted me.

I would've burned myself
to keep you warm
but you would still leave.
Olivia Oct 2018
I have been tied to the stake with your love and then... I was set on fire by it. As I’m burning the pain doesn’t feel nearly as bad as when I watched you turn around and walk away.
I’m slowly burning.
Now my ashes are all that’s left of me and I am nothing and I am no one.
Xallan Feb 2
This is the end of a long rope
Frayed and worn from my traversing it
Always reminiscing
A lot of whispers
A lot of pixels
A lot of good memories in between
But also some hazy, hazy regrets
Of time-ropes ripped through my head
Blistering like it was dragged through my hands
Fatigued cells with no implosion
No mind-growth, no life-growth
Only heart-growth-
Which always seems to occur
Only at the expense of breathing this oxygen
Better to create it, then,
Than consume it-
Instead of living, become life.
Instead of breathing, become breath.
Let my body ferment and fallow
Instead of existing, let my soul become energy
And let time leave my record
Along its rope.
I want to die, but I don't want to end my life. Oh, the irony!
CataclysticEvent Oct 2018
When I looked up,
The world had turned to Ash.
The sky was black as night.
Every ounce of innocence,
Held within my hands,
Had slipped away.
And I was standing,
Within a ring of fire.
I'd burned everything within sight.
He walked the streets a begger
they buried him like a king
he played a six string guitar
he wore no golden ring

She had the voice of angels
survived a valley called death
then fearing no evil
she passed every test

They wrote the songs with sunsets
they walked the line together
they stood in a ring of fire
in love they burned forever
Tribute to Johnny Cash and June Carter
Rowan Elizabeth Dec 2018
her very nature burned alive,
taking everything around her with it.

and when she shined the brightest,
the whole world was set on fire.
she didn't know her own strength.
Fathur Abinaya Dec 2018
You make me upset,
I know that you won't regret.
I will give you the death,
Like a burned cigarette.
Everything will come to the death.
Rohan Press Nov 2018
something's burned
you and me. I didn't
smell the smoke,
feel the flames
stir the pensive
she's just an ideal of who i want you to be.

who you are is tearing me apart.
who she is is keeping me holding on.

i know you won't fall in love with me, surely, but you fall in love with *him*, not to mention *him*, and I'm lost among your laughter. You just scroll: new faces, new angles, new everything. Novelty. Is that what's important to you? That's not, I think, what she cares about. She cares about relation; she is my ecology. She exists between things; you exist as things.

i'm being too harsh, i know, and i condemn myself for it. you're living your life, never mind if it's not *her* life. that's not your fault. i'm glad you're happy. i tell myself that every day and maybe one day it'll be true.

i'll never truly have her, no matter what you say. i know this because she's already been found. Found, embodied, then lost.
Dead Rose One Apr 2018


unlike a first kiss, a first love,
the premiere awkward first coupling,
which when one recalls it
appears with ever increasing fuzziness (intentionally?)
or not at all, so much so that making it up based on
fleeting hazed glimpses of unmemorized dreams
just to have an “official entry in the cloudy memory,”
is a semi-necessity for regaling...nobody

but you never forget your virginal
projectile vomiting

there is even an emoji for it,
a hurling curling celebration

like a computer reset,
a confessional admission
that includes your own original
original sin,
a purging so complete,
it is a rebirthing of sorts,
a human do over

(c’mon c’mon get on with this, this
no kiss, a most undeserving bizzaring poem title choice)

each and every time I draw forth
the words on the in sides of me
they are ejected with force comparable,
my body rejecting l'étranger,
who’s now escaping

no first kiss, miss, no laughing at one’s first tumbling fumbling,
there is no smiling recollections sweet,
a cover up for your exciting intimation initiations faint revisions

but your first writing!

given up and out in a ejection burst,
a needle in the arm, gunshot
fluids *******, spit out,
without malice aforethought,
and this your last writing

this one, yes, this one.
comes quick, rough and inelegant,
expulsion combustion leaving you
panting on the cold floor you emptied
sorta of whole, a clean sheet, so to speak,
swearing you’ll never do this again,
must be an easier way,
to just slow secrete it holy,
or give up the drug of writing
raven forevermore nevermore


the vision of a long ago rabbi,
being burned to death slowly
by the Romans, wrapped in
dampened torah scripture scrolls
to lengthen the burnished burning,
a vision burned into a
very youthful boy’s consciousness,
the holy black ink hand drawn letters flowing
from martyr’s mouth, flying heavenward
this fresh within,
a childhood image primal mind,
is ways present
as each letter typed, formulating mathematically,
based on an artificial intelligence theorem,
that updates itself with every missive,
until the new poem is
projectile released in
a single ***** bursting,
purging of the urging

and guess what,

it just happened again


~for Sky, whose poems endearing found me, in her brazen ways,
which is what poets do~
When Rabbi Hananiah ben Tradyon was caught teaching Torah in public, the Romans decided to make an example of him. Accordingly, Rabbi Hananiah was wrapped in a Torah scroll, which was then set afire. As if this torture were not sufficient, strips of water-soaked wool were placed on his body to prolong his agony. While his distraught students looked on helplessly, Rabbi Hananiah inspired them with his famous utterance, "The parchment is burning but the letters are flying off," meaning that enemies can crush the Jewish body but not the spirit
laura Aug 2018
August burned quickly, incipient nostalgia
prematurely vanished, mellow and gentle
sea stone on the tiled table, cedar plank
with fish, sunset through the eye-slit window

thigh high in life and riding wherever life
takes me like a hopeless romantic
shout out to ang for lighting literally every poem of mine up

edit: Daily #2 babyyyyyy
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
murmuring desire for me.
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful elongated face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
skin tight,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
Carter Ginter Sep 2018
I can barely stand certain music now
Each song holds a memory locked into it
Multi-Love for instance
It's fitting that I'm burning incense right now
Because this song brings me back to December
You were into ****** at that point
The sweet and smoky scents danced around us
As your sonos speakers
Cascaded those guitar riffs into our ears
I thought you were ecstasy
But you became an addiction
And like that smoke in my lungs
You burned me instead
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