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Allison Wolf Dec 2018
Trauma cemented my secrets deep within the crevices of my core,
yet he cracks my chest and I am a chilled corpse
drenched in formaldehyde, slowly decaying,
laid open for all to study.

Ordinary organs on display, hiding the scars of past mistakes:
bruises from an ex-boyfriend don’t tint the epidermis,
wine that splattered the walls and my white t-shirt
have already left the liver, the folds of cerebrum
unscathed from the demons that scratched
away at my sanity.

He’s seen me naked, vulnerable, and now I’m terrified
that he isn’t interested in understanding –  
just observing – my anatomy.
December 29, 2018
11:24:56 PM
Rowan Deysel Dec 2016
Caucasian cadaver in the windless woods.
Carelessly hanging from a tree.
Colorless face looking down.
Carrion yet to be seen.
Creation of an evil man.
Displaying his departed art.
Completed, his compelling plan.
Of helping death do its part.
Few colors, fewer sounds.
White skin contrasts the black dress.
Faded yellow floating all around.
Splatters of red fill the rest.
A frightful figure that overwhelms.
Above the confused and thorny trails.
All the shallow know themselves.
At the sight of this female.
Breathless before being dangled.
Dead before being displayed.
Beautiful body, cold and mangled.
Death magnificently portrayed.
Multiple stab wounds in your back.
Added to the smell of war.
Mind immersed in barren black.
Gnawed eyes to watch and adore.
Dripping, dim and dreadful.
The portrait he wanted to smear.
Your future as empty as your words.
Your hollowness shown clear.
You don't know what you're missing. 
Elders still die, the young still grow.
The leaves below are hissing.
At the corpse of a girl I used to know.
Made when I was an angsty, silly teenager who just got dumped by his first girlfriend.

His words
and tongue
are so warm
and He burns
an altar lit
on fire

His body is perfect
the blood is lurid
and bittersweet

every feature
even the subtlest
tempered to the grace
of nature’s requiem
made with the sole purpose
of temptation
every contour chiseled
with conviction bold

His sepia eyes
in their vintage
with a childlike elation
no longer present
in the cadaver
of a life i’m trapped in

His rose-tinted lips
held in a kind of

bold, sensual, soft
caress but never kiss
i finger his scars
and quietly nurse them

masochism, he wounds
but i want it
regardless of what
it entails

it’s being euthanized
i dare you to **** this
it’s because of
this sordid waltz
of fate and intention
that He’s never around
most of the time

and it’s worth it
it’s ignorance, oh blissful
it’s the pagan’s humble request
i will have this
some of the time?

His fight and fierceness
are unrivaled
like the solace of sleep
to those freezing

addiction, dependence, provocation
i’m washed in the tide
of His everlasting rimy breath
for a second
he reached out
and thawed me
hands interlaced
Our -------- embraced

i scent
His body-
the unleavened
doused with
mulled wine
a redolence
of clove, nutmeg, anise
a steady undertone of black currant
and floral, rich sauvignon
the faintest vestige of bergamot
i inhale it all

i run my fingers
through His silken
sable hair

His existence, however,
holds sentiment
incomparable to His heart
there is only Him

He who hears like
the velvet snowflakes

He who lives like
the dark ink

He who smells like
mulled wine

even the quinine
finds itself too bitter
that it may yearn for
to drown
i’ve been going through a lot and this was my way of processing. ty for stopping by.

dedicated to Alison, Lana, Thien, Pooja and Tayden
zebra Jul 2017
i come to you half mad
with desire
like slithers tongue
i wish
to have painfully stitched
to your silky ****
an act of desires supplication
my *** turned to poison
deprivations effulgent
obsidian flower salivating
your every smile
fleshy bells ringing
warping tintinnabulations
i am a starved incubus
drooling at your knees

behind me
a frothy junket of misdeeds
for loves sake
your feet the scent of lavender and salt
their shape evoking numberless poems
and begging adorations

your belly
a tender cauldron undulating
tummy ***** dancer
sacred *******
temple of worship
the site of your rounded bottom
naked red mouth calling
my sacred liturgy
your *****
velvet tulips for a tremulous kiss

I seed you a thousand times
a raging bludgeon
storming wounded gates Palisades
drenched and florid
fruit and milk ****
until jaws lock
and spire drops
turning me
to midnight cadaver
***** black hollows
a dark eyelid, blink-less
dead **** face down
a slumped snake

then soft dew
and cool ales
clear thickened muds saturation
lighten heat and peel
the warm palate
with agile caress
tender haunches wide and spiced
milk and butter thighs
her hair in mine
rushing river life
again i animate
an embryo id
dressed in fire
all vices and virtues
blood and sky
Rich Apr 19
In that moment I was in my chair yet out of my body
somewhere in the sky’s gentle hair
in strands thick and stretching out past Neptune
I was gone
I was made of flesh yet not at all
my pores had pride pouring out
I sneezed out envy, coughed up anxiety
sadness left with a tear
anger was brushed off my beard
happiness followed the next breath away
and I was left with a soul in the shape of a poem
so it looked like…?
Nothing I could explain but I remained in a place of spiritual terrain
had telescopes where eyes should have been
I made my heart rise and the sun beat
I took a step into a step-less reason
stayed afloat for the next eight seasons
and came back slowly
descending into a cadaver that took its veins for granted
and resurrected a black body that was made as a result of gods needing a hobby

I was meditating.
And the world above awaits you too
if you seek it.
zebra Jan 9
blood blot
a hideous music
like fixed stars
a chaos of shattered glass
you can hang your hat on

bamboo shards make a ****** wound
gold spun hair
on floral linen
blemished soaking red
like a shaking rat in a cats mouth

Hazels glistening ******; a pretense
salutes celibacy and high end moisturizer toilet paper

to shock simplicities morals
of an excretory affair
a dark chandelier hangs in the balance
torpedo runnels through chambered knots
unleashing treacherous sanity
sins crib
theater of purgation

father forgive her
she took a ****

an idealist without ideals

the grand masturbator
a simulacrum of a lubed god
in nights dragging shade
oracle of a  ruddy opera  and legs over head
flexed crimson wattle rolls

theories invite anti theories
light invites darkness

silence yields
shadows throat
and cacophonous whispers
a grind house temple of gods and demons
in horrendous geometry
of inflicting malice

until the serpent ascends
from black pitch hells
like a bomb through the skull

lusts antidote
waterloo of the soul  
annihilation point
the cadaver smiles
surreal ….a poetry of fragments
I cannot have a song in my throat
without the hour of my silence
smoldering in the ramparts of my thunder blush
where the seamless coil of my mortality
aches like a beacon on a cliff
of Nothing Else.

I cannot change my little Bibles
for a little Bliss.
I can only exchange the vapors
of my longing
for a non-touch
at the heart
of a wrong.

September is as brisk as a Discoteque
in a neon cadaver.
with all the palaver of a garden gnome -
full of further promises.
a prominent departure
where everything eminent
is Gospel.

I have pools of Time in my dislodged serenity
and all the ghosts to haunt me as lightly
as a gale.
I have come from an open wound
that has no closing argument.
Only the infinite armament of hollow guns
for solid snakes and
horizons made
of Nonsuch.

Before Begun
I had no Always
as much
as having
Leftward within the thoracic cavity, above where the bad guts are, I
see your fat heart pumping like the dickens because it is fatigued &
thickened from pork chops, greasy burgers & finger-lickin' chicken.
Ace Sep 2018
My pen have lost its will to bleed;
For the blood in my veins dries slowly as I give.
My papers began to rip as I live;
For the pumper in my chest slowly dies as I grieve.

My hands have lost its sense of touch;
For I forgot to perceive what I can hold and I cannot.
My tongue turned pale as it perpetually rots;
Unable to taste what sweet and sour— unable to determine what’s cold or hot.

My words may come out gibberish and censure;
For my eyes couldn’t see what else is unsure.
And as my mouth speak the words of cure;
A sacrifice must be done— just take my breath and let me wither under the sun.
Adrian Sep 2018
Marble black bark grow bed sheets of parchment attached by
    strings. Spillage of pink arises from the abdomen. Fused clothing fibers substitute layers of bark.........

The vivid aroma of rot and feasting maggots harmonize...............
A cadaver drilled by burrowing insects. Beetles, flies, pismires, and parallels. A carcass crammed with 200 seeds. Bulbous seeds in the nose. Deposited bulbs rooted in brain tissue. Thick specks of white nuzzle into flesh emerge. Squirm out of the cubicles.  Insects feasting simultaneously............

A figure emerges from the edge of perception. Routinely gorging the cadavers vital delicacies. Amid spouts of fainting spells.......................

Grabbing lumps of brain matter. Shoveling it towards his gaping hole. Ravenously consuming the bland ashen chunks. Gripping the cranium and sipping the diluted ***................

Sliding two slippery marbles into his gullet. Then suddenly publicizing his medals amid his fangs. Deteriorating into slush immediately........

Piercing the stationary ticker with talons. Shortly guzzling the dense scarlet metallic droplets. Promptly the sticky liquid cerise matter slithered into his craw. Hurling the white speckled rims simultaneously in glee.  Than consuming the exterior synthetic.........

    The corpse is convulsing..wheezing..........chest withering in pain. Man devours his own living corpse, neglecting to swallow his toes. A daily phenomenon……to devour yourself.  

What of the toes? Looted by a motivated businessman the next day. “Oh the painstaking horror of humanities hunger,” the motivated businessman then asserted into thin air.
My commentary on humanity
Pray thee, never be incarcerated,
In any of the dank, smelly holes in that country,
And may the angels watch over you,
If misfortune were to befall your unlucky cadaver.
It's Sunday morning, after a good *****, & I'm *****-jacked flaccid
'cause Bruce Jenner's ***, on wolverine claw that's done rotted gray
****** captures flies ******* fly-seed in the cadaver of Oliver Reed
over the theory I'm mounting that puts 34th placers into parade lead  
ahead by a thread in filthy Gravesend, 1 London-transfer from Kent
Robert Oliver Reed (13 February 1938 – 2 May 1999) was an English actor known for his upper-middle class, macho image and "hellraiser" lifestyle. Notable films include The Trap (1966), playing Bill Sikes in the Best Picture Oscar winner Oliver! (1968), Women in Love (1969), Hannibal Brooks (1969), The Devils (1971), portraying Athos in The Three Musketeers (1973), Tommy (1975), Lion of the Desert (1981), Castaway (1986), The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988), Funny Bones (1995) and Gladiator (2000) (the latter released posthumously).

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