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Anne Curtin Sep 2018
bang inside my brain
burning my soul

I kick them away in restless sleep
jaw clenches  in familiar fear

truth or consequence
all night long
Some things you can never say out loud.
Arianna Oct 2018
It’s late, and of late
My stomach clenches with sleeplessness
And looking ahead:
In my head
Rationing the half-hours
Until sunrise,
Willing myself to rise
In time for the Morning and for living
Rather than a living.

The days merge together;
It seems but one repeats
Forever.

The only thing that changes is the weather.
Hahaha, a moment of frustration between working my *** off all day every day at the bottom of the foodchain, but still not knowing yet what to do next to build the life I would like to live, and not knowing what that life even looks like. No clear goals at the moment; got me feelin' some typa way.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KxSd-l-urj8
Kori Tullier Aug 2018
She stares into the mirror, numb.
All she sees is the imperfections.
Her body trembles as she runs her fingers along each stretch mark.
Tears stream down her cheeks, bluring her vision.
She falls to the floor, trying to hide her stomach so the fat doesn't show.
She wishes she could be the girl she once was.
She reaches for the knife of the counter and just clenches it in her hand.
Sobbing harder, she drops it knowing that she'll become stronger some day.
She gradually composes herself, rising to her feet.
She'll break this cycle one day.
It might not be soon but it will happen.
Shiny Feb 10
Why
My tender heart clenches in pain.
Tears roll down on it's own accord.
Why do your simple words
Tear apart my heart so ruthlessly?
Why do you hurt me so deeply?
Graff1980 Jun 2017
The city sounds of ordered chaos, the constant wave of people crossing back and forth like a human tide. Strangers cut in and out of their tiny groups and barely miss colliding. Honks and bleats hasten the crowds pace as they race to cross the road. Some people stare at their phones, others watch the road but no one looks directly at another human being. Somewhere, near here and in-between there just off to the side a stranger sits mumbling, barely coherent.

“Watch me.”

The age lines run so deep into his skin that they might as well be built in. White stubble paints a drawn slightly sunburnt face. Deep dark blue eyes scan the city life for some unknown relief.
A red line catches his eyes, followed by a childlike voice singing playfully. “Watch me mommy.”

Tiny matchbox cars race around a shallow hole. The little cars cross dips and dirt ramps increasing the young boy’s excitement, as he mimics his favorite show. They crash into a partially exposed root. “Brrckkkeeech bccccch.”A fake explosion sounds. Dusk begins to fall as the cars settle into their makeshift cereal box garage. Smiling and dusty the boy crosses the small road, then the tiny parking lot, and comes home.

Long ***** white hair falls messily across the man’s worn face. All but a few awkwardly placed teeth are gone. Some are yellow while others are darker and rotting. His breath reeks. The emaciated figure feels the cramps of hunger pains. A brown speckled haze clouds his vision, followed by a slight coldness and dizziness creeping over his body.

“Watch me.”

Cardboard swords clash in a titanic battle of good versus evil.  Until the young victor jumps upon his sawhorse stead. A yowl of pain sounds as his tiny sac is smashed. The pain jolts upwards and inwards causing temporary paralysis. Thin legs scrape the wooden brace dragging chips of paint down with him as he falls off his fake saddle. The victor is defeated by pain. A few seconds later the internal pain passes and he is up and at it again, running straight for a large tree. At the last second he swerves barely avoiding a painful collision. In his mind a red cape swooshes behind him as he flies off to save metropolis.

The summer heat draws pit stains on the old man ***** orange tee. The neckline is stretched and has an almost circular pattern of moisture. Barely able to move, his sick stench draws the attention of flies. Bugs buzz by almost as frequently as strangers walking by.

“Watch me.”

Tears fall from the tiny child eyes, as he stumbles in pain. A deep **** runs red with lines of falling blood. His mother picks him up and carries him to the neighbor’s car. She whispers soft word of reassurance. The tears eventually stop.

The man clenches his chest. Pain permeates his being. His breath is lost. He stumbles falling harshly against the cold grey cement sidewalk. Tears fall. He reaches for strangers pleading weakly for their assistance. A foot smashes against his left side, causing more pain to flame up; while forcing him to edge of the sidewalk. The crowd keeps moving.
A stranger snarls “get out of the way you ***.”

“Watch me.” The old man whispers as he recalls his mother’s warmth. Soft kisses planted on his forehead. Sitting in the dark living room safely snuggled next to his mother as a scary storm rages violently against a small house.

“Watch me.” He cries. His voice, obscured by the city, fades and is forgotten.
Chantell Wild May 23
Useless information
Clogs his brain
Like a blocked up drain
In a fit of dispair
He comes up for air
Clenches fists as he
Tightens the noose
Makes sure that it will
never come loose
Life is transitory
Death's own territory
We are all born to die
In some way or another
Come, brother,
Let go.
Katherine Jan 14
You possess an abrasive restlessness
Sandpaper on silk, it strains.
Near delirious in your self-destruction,
You writhe, and twist, and scratch

Your heart skips beats,
Stutters and clenches for days
Arteries scuffle beneath your skin
Fingers tremble and then they curl

My dear, you are the sunrise in the west
The moonrise into the eclipse
You bare your teeth in a crown of light
And you threaten the dark
Annett Feb 4
It comes in shades of blue,
Bright cool skies and thinking of you
You are the song stuck in my head
I know none of your verses but sing your chorus like hymn,
Like it means something.
A pastel blue button down that clenches your neck,
Adjust it ever so and it makes me blush.
How do buttons being undone undo me so completely?
The royal blue fan I imagine I'd use to obscure my face, in another time, a far off place.

It comes in shades of Pink.
Innocent rosy cheeks of infatuated me, that pit in the stomach of you who cannot articulate hunger.
A strapless dress hugging as tight as you wish you could, in an aura of pearl.
Lips. Pink and bitten, held between teeth, they are nervous and eagar.

It comes in Lilac,
Flowers given in place of a promise,
Tea steaming and splattered on my thigh,
My grip slipped.
The smell of soap as I sing to myself lost in thought,
Water running warm on my back,
La la la la la

A blinding burst of yellow,
When desire is traded for companionship and I can enjoy you with no guilt,
When complications trade for a small vacation of wondering,
What if, what if

It is shades of Red,
Deep light that watches through the long nights,
When I am here with you,
Fire that stretches out and pulls back in,
Shades of brilliant orange flame embrace you like a halo.

And when all the lights are out, and all I can hear is the sound of your deep sleep, the only colors I see are the translucent shades of moonlight on us, softening lust to something like love.

Like love, darling.
13 pills
5 in the morning
8 in the evening

I have to swallow them
One by one
Just to stay sane

They catch in my throat
Choke my screams on their way out

Keep my tears at bay
Before they fall

They slow the voices
In their chatter

Keeping the anxiety
From grasping and pulling at my heart
And pooling in the pit of my stomach

Or...

At least they're supposed to.

But my screams
Still stain the air

I still hear voices
Bouncing back and forth
In my skull

My heart clenches
My stomach tightens
With the anxiety that is supposed to be gone

And still I swallow
8 pills each night
5 pills each morning

13 pills each day
I know that this sounds like a complaint, but really I'm just struggling to stay sane through all of these meds and their side-affects. Poetry helps.
Troy Aug 2018
Talking
It use to be so simple
Yet now it’s all a blur
Rushing and hammering in my head

Fear strikes out
As words hold tight
My throat clenches as sadness jerks
And yet nothing comes out

I want to say so many things
But the thought that you might reject
Turns me into a statue
Begging to be released

So I sit there silent
Hoping that I can muster the courage
Hoping that I get through
Hoping to break down this fear

I hold back tears
Wishing that something would happen
Wishing that something would come out
Hoping that the words just break free

I’m in a corner now
It’s either speak or be forgotten
And I fear it will be the latter
For nothing will escape this cage

Pleading and beaconing
The words tangle up
Getting stuck in my throat
As the rush all at once

With they ever be free?
Only time will tell
But I fear that time
Is one thing I don’t have
misha Jun 5
(and you were the muse.)
Your alabaster skin - one with the keys of the piano-
pouring out your heart in your saccharine voice.
Through my eyes, it was dreamlike light- echoes of the moon floating through the water
like blurry images of hands intertwined.

My heart clenches every time I picture you
because you have replaced my blood with honey.
The sweet ache coats my veins and spreads throughout my body.

How I wish I could lay you under the shade
of the grand willow tree on a gentle midsummer night
watching the stars and fireflies- sometimes unable to tell them apart-
and braiding violets into your golden hair.

Every action deliberate,
every thought dripping with poetry
coating my skin like fresh morning dew.
for pride month- an ode to a very special girl. even though you'll never love me I hope your life is full of joy.
Eurus Nov 2018
There’s a storm in his head, thunder beneath his hands and rain rolling down his eyes.
His lethal torrid stare felt piercing as his teeth were baring.
His fist tenses and his mouth dries.
His heart rate increases and his jaw clenches.
When the mild-mannered man turns at last to face me, his states had no more greyscale. His customary warmth gone faster than summer rain on the tarmac.
Now my blood drained and heart hammered erratically. These swings from the most loved to the most hated would be the end of me.
I was never afraid of his anger when it came as fire, for that burnt hot and fast but I was deadly scared of his ice that saved him from the torments of his youth. But now, it was so hard to tell and so pointless to run.
to paint feelings with words
You asked me how many moons
were in the sky

and I said, only

one that pulls fine chords from
our hearts and spins

one that clenches like a fist
at the beating in our chests

one that's surface is covered
with every kiss we've ever had

only one, because there is
only us, alone in the universe

in it's vast, grey, enormity

our bodies woven so tightly together
wrapped around each planet

our love burning up every sun
into a supernova

we are alone
we are vast
and our love is
infinite
Jessica Jan 24
seconds after it happens you will feel nothing; a numbness that somehow hurts more than anything. it will start in your chest, as a grey mist clenches your groaning heart and surrounds your lungs; like a life jacket it will keep you from drowning, while forcing your head underwater until you can no longer bear it. letting you up to breathe for a split second, then pushing you back under. torture. your thoughts will stop dead. your mind will tell you that the world is wrong, your heart will insist that you are not broken…
they are both lying.


years after it happens you will remember the pain, the scars will still paint your skin, but they will no longer sear through you, raised and angry; instead they will be relics of an old memory. in life, you will hurt, but you will carry on. and that, my dear,
is how you will survive
oizys Nov 2018
"why do you do it?"
they ask.

why do i do it?

every time i feel alone,
frustrated,
empty,
hurt;
when i feel enraged,
disgusted,
ashamed,
misunderstood

is the reason i do it.

the stings my body resonates with as i separate my skin by a blade,
is nothing compared to the pain that resides within me.

why do i do it?

i can't give you a direct answer.

i do it because, when i am upset, it's the equivalent of taking a calming drag from a much needed cigarette.
i do it because, when i am angry, i seek only myself to take that anger out on.
i do it because, when i am empty, i crave nothing more than to feel the harsh tingles left behind by the harsh metal.

why the **** do i do it?

because i ******* detest myself, that's ******* why.
because every time i force myself to gaze into my own dead orbs in the mirror, all i see reflected is pools of loathing and suffering.
because at night when the subtle ache that's been clinging to my chest suddenly clenches me until i can no longer breathe, i realise that the only one to blame is myself.
because i ******* hate myself.


"why do you do it?"

"...i don't know. "

is the reason i do it.
Anthony Perry May 31
Back and forth in repetition
Trapped in a twilight's shaking embolism
Asunder is the father envisioned
Atrophied arms locked at the behest of a child christened

Lives intersect and for a moment, love is born
Trials are created and for the first time a name is worn
Among the quiet of involuntary matricide a promise is signed and sworn

Familial pain meets the curses of life
Perennial anguish clenches blood soaked sheets and for the first time, hate is born in the twists of umbilical strife

Heartbroken and greiving next to a pallid flame that's smothered and lifeless

Here, for the first time, tragedy is born

A new dawn so precious it's fire kept close, buried in the sternum of a giant secured in an indentured embrace

It's here, for the first time, a god is born

— The End —