"cringing" poems
Sometimes I get stuck in this state of Darkness
where my eyes can see
but it's like my head is just pitch black
and I almost wish I couldn't see anything,
like I wish I could just curl myself into a ball so tightly that I disappear from space for a while
sometimes I get stuck in this space
and I feel like my tears and my thoughts
are climbing up my esophagus and clogging my throat
blocking my airway
suffocating me from the inside
maybe I never told you I was depressed because who wants to relive that moment
that choking hazard moment of cotton ***** in my throat
maybe I never told you I was depressed because there are no words I can use to describe it that don't transform themselves into their meanings
that don't take over my mind
crawl through my head like little worms
eating away at my brain
my thoughts
my skin
have you ever thought of a traumatic experience and then felt those events happening again
felt the dark hole of life-threatening-trauma attack your mind
Shiver through your body
like it was a demon you let in through a memory-
through a word
maybe I didn't tell you I was depressed
because I wasn't strong enough
my depression fills me to the brim
fills my head and my chest
my arms and my fingers
I can feel it moving through my body
I can feel it expanding and engulfing everything inside of me
every last vein, nerve, ***** and tissue
how can you expect me to have the energy to fight
how can you expect me to have the energy to pick up the phone
to open my mouth
how can you expect me to have energy-to have the courage to utter the words of how I feel
I feel so worthless
in those moments I feel like there's this black whole inside me and it's consuming everything
it's taking everything but my skin
and it disgusts me
can you imagine the feeling,
having something so utterly repulsive on your skin you had to scrape it off immediately
It felt like you needed to be cleansed
like you needed a shower
take that feeling
now imagine it being under your skin
imagine, every muscle ***** vein nerve every cell in your body underneath your epidermis disgusts you
imagine all you wanted to do was to
GET
IT
OFF
and you can't
no matter how hard you try
you can't scrape it off
you can't claw It off
imagine you're scared of spiders
now imagine you're covered in spiders
and someone's holding down your arms
so you can't get them off
imagine them walking on your skin
in your mouth
crawling on your open eyes
in your ears
you're cringing at your own skin
You can feel them going down your throat
Their disgusting tickle in the pit of your stomach
in every crevice of your body
their tunneling under your skin
and you can't get them off
what are you supposed to do
but cry
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
These are interesting times
Blessing cursing each moment
Smelling like the '80s
Rhyming with the '60s
Cringing like the '40s
Gasping at '17
It's The War of The Worlds II
Man versus man versus nature and self
A free-for-all melee, just name it
Where bacteria and viruses
and gas and atoms
Will be our doom in the end
But not before we've wreaked havoc
on all that we love.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
I think of you
every day that passes.
And then I think about how
you don't love me anymore.
I don't know how to cope with this
and I'm just hoping
that if I refuse to truly accept it
after awhile,
it'll happen without me realizing it
and I won't have to feel as much pain
but I can't imagine
it being much worse than this.
You don't love me anymore.
I find myself in my head
saying that I'll stop hoping that
you'll want me back,
next week.
Next month
or maybe
next year.
I keep making excuses for you
and thinking that I should keep waiting.
And so I just keep needing to say to myself that
you don't love me anymore.
I almost have to resist cringing
when he touches me
because I feel like
I'm cheating on you.
And then I remember that
you don't love me anymore.
He is your absolute opposite
which I hate most of the time
but sometimes it helps.
Sometimes I even come close
to convincing myself that
I actually like him.
And then the thoughts of you
flood my mind
and I know that this
is nothing more than myself
being too weak
to be alone.
I love you.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
******* sawdust
Whiskey and rust
This is the life
This is cloud nine
This used to be a simple alibi
But now it's just a damaged lullaby
It's hard to kiss
Skin that crawls
But in the dark
The weakness falls
Unasked questions
They do rebound
Silent screaming
Rings all around
This used to be a simple alibi
But now it's just a damaged lullaby
Tattoos, perfume
Gasoline fumes
Nursing this poison
cringing, no end
Dysfunctional love
is what we make
just one more hit
It'll be the last I take
This is the life
This is cloud nine
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
I hate when I have to tell stories about you
people ask how you were
I get so fired up every time I have to tell someone
I tell them how I was terrified
how you would scream and swear at me almost every night
but all I ever did was give you everything you ever wanted.
night after night I would force myself to keep you happy so you wouldn't yell.
I even had to keep it a secret so I wouldn't loose what I now hold so dear to myself.
after your "incident" you said it was all out of "love"
bull. ****
You tried to force me to like the things you like
think the way you think
basically change everything that I enjoyed and you despised.
Any time I hear certain words that you've found funny
I immediately tell that person to never say it around me again.
Events that you've found "funny" ******* scared me and all you did was laugh.
Any time you were ******* left out of any ******* joke you pulled me to the side
asking why you were left out.
did you ever figure it was because YOU'RE ******* IMMATURE?
You said that every girl before me left and never supported you.
Maybe they got out of there fast once they realized how you are.
Getting away was the absolute best thing I have done
but almost everyday I have this small outburst of anger
cringing and wanting to tell you to your face how messed up you are.
how much you've messed me up.
you changed, you changed real bad.
everyone is pulling away
all because of you
**** you little boy blue
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
So long in search of a love like yours
one that encompasses me completely
releasing all emotion
soul exposed bare and naked
to be examined and still accepted
what a revelation
that anyone would have that capability
attuned to every part of me
I respect you
seeing all my scars yet not even blinking
no cringing, no judging
only pure acceptance and love
a craving to heal, cure and dress my wounds
what a beautiful soul you must have, love
my counterpart, my companion
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
I find peace
I find solace
I find comfort
In the arms
Of a cold, icy night.
My face unfolding the crease
That it wears all day long
But cringing underneath
At the thought of sticks and stones
Ringing like a disturbing song.
I find love
In the whispers of the wind.
I find desire
In the darkness of the sky.
The eerie silence
It brings me hope.
I day dream
In the darkest hours
Right before dawn,
Because I know not
What deep sleep means anymore.
I see colours
I see red I see blue
I see black I see truth.
When the moon comes out
And stars, they flicker
Being surrounded by fallen angels
Sending out dreamy gazes
Giving me more might
Than the brightest summer day will ever.
Within myself I shout
I let out my unrest inside, alone.
I don't just love the night,
I connect with it.
I have no inhibitions
The night makes life worth living.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
I harbor
A great loneliness in my heart.
It has long plagued me.
It is where all desperation comes from,
All strife,
All fear.
It aches.
But that is not the true problem.
The true problem began when I realized
It could be otherwise,
That people existed every so often
Who could calm my tempestuous heart
And comfort my soul.
Then I began to fear.
Because to be without
Isn't bad
When without is all you know.
But the moment I knew comfort
I was ruined for hardship.
Never again could I swallow it with grace.
Since, I have been searching for a way to tell myself
That comfort will return
When it leaves-
For minutes or for years.
I have found very little to help me do this,
And yet I am improving.
Slowly I am crawling up that mountain.
But oh,
Sometimes it does ache.
Sometimes fear does threaten.
Sometimes I am very, very lonely
Even within comfort.
I am finding my way, slowly,
To loving you right.
To knowing that you can fix every pain I have ever felt
But not requiring you to,
Not cringing in doubt when you are absent.
I will not lose you as I have lost the others
To my need
To my craving for comfort.
I will not let my intrinsic loneliness taint this.
I am sad, today.
I am lonely, today.
And today I will sit with that, and be strong, and understand that you are there
And will be.
I will practice patience and I will not let despair overtake me.
Loneliness is the price of love.
I cannot **** it in me.
I cannot use you to treat it like a disease.
I must accept it,
For you.
For you are more important to me than fear.
Yes,
Yes this is a love poem.
A very strange one
Born from the hollow feeling that threatens sometimes when you aren't around.
I am telling you that I love you more than to demand you chase it away.
I am telling you that I can sit in this and know that although you fix all suffering in me,
When you are not there to do it
That does not mean you make me suffer.
I love you enough
To free you like this, and to trust you
To always return
And unknowingly but perfectly
Heal me.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
Oh the cringing demon of eternal youth,
******* away promise and hard won truth.
I see far more than *** lingering, in her eyes
I see, instead, the milk teeth of youthful lies,
of forever and today, hopes and screams
replacing tomorrows, frayed at the seams.
Oh, mere *** be gone, you sordid troll!
Crawl yourself back in your hole.
If ‘tis *** you brought to this trapped piece of light
then speak to your own soul and leave me a bite
of the apple she does not offer
and the delights you think her youth will proffer.
I have no time to dance to your twisted tune
of youth over too fast and maturity too soon!
What stinks more of your ***********
her stretched, prolonged, aging youth or back bared, partial nudity?
I giggle as I consider her Eve-like dreams
of bitten apples and grander things.
And God said, let there be light.
Is that truly all He said when he banished the night?
Maybe she is wet from being born.
From demon Youth’s desperate grasp she is torn
and into the world, for a moment, she is cashed;
back bared and ready to be lashed
by the ‘cruel’ reality we keep from youth…
…like bronzed, baby booties and baby’s lost tooth.
Maybe, coquettishly, she glances ahead,
away from the bonds of youth’s birthing bed;
not, as you apparently dream, toward some sordid affair
you see in bared skin and strands of dampened hair!
There is beauty in her eyes, it is true,
the beauty of youth’s first, full faced view
of tomorrow and tomorrows again…
Exactly how long do you think, she should remain a youth, then?
Oh the Apple that lingers past ripe upon a tree,
Snakeless, Eve-less, unchosen, unbitten for an eternity.
Shall we trap, virginal, in iron cages of our blind, stupid lust
the false innocence of youth only tears and death can rust?
Foolish, foolish Adam and blind, impregnable Eve; is *** all you can ever see?
I can peer past your layers and layers and layers of false, bitter modesty.
If you see *********** then know this, before you atone:
You bring that demon wherever you go and it is yours and yours alone.
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 1:13 PM UTC
Your arms and legs are the sky
Full of formations of stars
That used to be clear
When the sun used to shine
But with darkness comes night
And with night comes being alone
Cringing at the sound of silence
So many questions
Now imperfect visions
Of what used to be constellations
Blurred through the telescope
The clocks are backwards turning
Stomach uncomfortably churning
Although it's concerning
That your heart is burning
Those pills mean no returning
From where you're leaning towards going
You can't go down there
Down in the ground
When your body was found
You seemed to have drowned
The thought of it sends you away
Mind now spinning
Like the Milky Way's silky waves
Swirling in a circle down the drain
The color of crimson red
Or down the toilet
Like your last meal
All you have left
Is the darkness
From your fingertips to your toes
And those dark constellations
Sweeping across your arms and legs
Like the night sky
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
Sharp breath
Carving out the carcass
Shaving away sanity
Cringing.
Shallow plunge
Into sinister sea of shards
Crinkling cracking
Cringing.
Cowering for invisibility
Hiding behind folds of
Crunched eyelids
Cringing.
Hollowed by fire
Raw red remnants
Crumbling, ashes ashes
Cringing.
Projected perfection
Diabolical demons dream
In absence
Cringing.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC
I know they're out there somewhere
Watching, cringing, when they see those
who don't know just what to pick out
When they go out in their clothes
I cannot list the culprits
And we all know fashion crime
Like, pants that show the *** crack
We see this all the time
It used to be a faux pas
When one made a clothes mistake
But now you see them daily
With every look you take
With all the shows on tv
Showing people how to dress
Why do they go out looking
Like such a rotten, bleeding mess?
Stripes and spots and solids
Wearing braces AND a belt
Wearing parkas in hot weather
You'd think that they would melt
Socks worn with one's sandals
And those pants around the knees
I mean, someone, help these people
someone help them please
We need some clothes policing
Maybe a hot line they could phone
Maybe send the cops a photo
Before they choose to leave their home
There are people wearing spandex
People who aren't really thin
think of squeezing ten pounds of sausage
In a five pound sausage skin
And makeup...yes, the makeup
Someone needs to teach them how
to apply it, in moderation
We need some clothes policing now!
There are rules and there are guidelines
But common sense should reign supreme
It looks like these poor people
got dressed while in a dream
We need fashion policing
So we can all walk, showing class
Instead of being like these morons
Who wear big jeans, and show their ***
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 12:55 PM UTC
Clinging to the corner,
The ceiling,
The unused room upstairs,
The dusty cellar basement;
Lurking in the shadows,
Cringing from the light.
Retreating for now
But returning later,
Stronger, faster,
Harder to ignore.
Long, gangly, sickly;
Short, stocky, powerful;
Tiny, flitting, wispy;
Huge, full, pervasive.
Cunning, plotting, patient.
Always there,
Always watching,
Always waiting.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 5:02 PM UTC
Death patiently files his nails
And smokes a casual cigarette
Grinning and eyeless
He says so calmly
"Catch you later
Brave little dreamer"
Despite such brittle certainty
Men and women build
Despite such small mortality
Every space is filled
In the midst of death's destruction
Men and women build again
Fear, like a cringing bowel
Exudes an acrid stench
And whimpers and whines
Simpers and cries
"Don't you dare
Don't you ever dare"
Despite this clinging dread
Some will need to dare
Despite the bursting head
Dreams insist on birth
In the midst of our stupidities
Something wondrous strives
By Phil Roberts
May 10, 2017
May 10, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
She don't wanna speak to me.
Me mind is hidden under a cloud of darkness.
Dere's a feelin' of inner struggle.
I must release reggae.
spliiiiiff
I rise out of me bed in terror.
Me dreamt of a lonely island boy, lost at sea.
Could you imagine, no friends, no food.
No reggae release.
spliiiiiff
I'm trapped in a reggae box
I can hear me boy screamin', but I can't find 'im.
I call for 'im, "JACO! JACO, MY YOUT!"
I must release de reggae.
spliiiiiff
The room is a maze, no exit.
Could me premonitions be true?
Could me boy truly be lost?
No reggae release.
spliiiiiff
Me vision's too cloudy.
All to be seen is rat-like faces, cringing.
Their snouts snort and sneer to a reggae beat.
I must release de reggae.
spliiiiiff
The floor falls from under me.
A lizard's heavy gizzard appears below.
Crooked, sharp teeth shining tru de dark.
No reggae release.
spliiiiiff
Colours upon colours.
An indigo man stabs, then rapes a magenta woman.
Until the reds, and greens, and blues, explode from her stomach.
I must release de reggae.
spliiiiiff
I catch me breath. I'm in me room.
Safe and sound.
Jeez, what a bad trip, still?
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 8:03 PM UTC
Disaster is my master
I've seen chaos in mediocre valleys
Murdered by my feet in the dark alleys,
I am a hazard
Cringing by the needles of the ****** addicts
Chicago is my town
With concrete giants towering
And city people behind dark windows cowering
But, stop right there
What is this disaster? I am speaking of
Down hard and fallen
The windy city government failure is only a small token
A token of no appreciations, comprehension, solitary explosions, or time stamp expirations.
So come to this city and see the real masters of deviation and drive by cancellations
You will see these people distant passed the time and places
With empty shoes, empty futures and empty faces
Please talk to the drunkards begging for another shot of gin with all together no more chances
This disaster is in front of you
Simple, solemn, messed up and confused
I beg you, don't walk past them and forget, you could be there too
I just don't want to see you downplayed, hungry or depraved.
Restrained, contained or in constant pain.
And Lord knows this revelation of what you want to be is only left outside under the constant rain
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 3:26 PM UTC
Get me on my stomach and rub your stubble-like brambles against my cheek
breathe your humid heated desires on the backs of my ears
and into my coal
entangle your feet in mine
verbalize but don’t make much more than senseless noise, drag it out
sloooow
Grind that ribcage into me
As you make sweet, sweet silent passion into me
Dont get too comfortable so long as you're entwined just as me
Reel me a little further
Pull me back
don’t play too hard
you should know well
it's who we are
I'm more useful when I'm not besot by the torment
of not getting to feel the things that make me fall
Tangibles of your love, the winnings
of our games
I want to be enslaved by your grip
touched by your eyes
With tenderness to my viability
and my liability
I want to be the object of your affection
never the only one
That makes your sensible mind up and slip
Legs and bones tousled
Our heat displaced in-between
warm flesh slipping in and out
we move like one majestic animal
I'll make you move like a victim in my web
of endless sensualities
yowl like a hidden cat
in the dark
if you pounce my softness with your depths and integrity
to the moment
to what we besot
with our foolish tendencies
I'll be like talons
in your shoulders as I kiss your collar, gingerly
open me up, open me up wide
much like you, cringing by your side
let your inhibitions fall,
and your heart, next to me
your vulnerability is my sentimental call
let your head spiral
down my silhouette, hungrily
lay bare your tenderness
so I can sip, you can maul
untilll we fall
to primitive tendency
lap my primordial waters with your lulled tongue
lolling up in the cosmos
like our heroic sun
we know that we’re one
braid your fingers up into me
as we
as we
as we
loose ourselves in faceless time
loose ourselves, lovingly
I won’t own you, I don’t dare possess you outside of this bed
just give me this,
this one meaningful thing
to me in it’s stead
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
Black widow, waiting for a strike,
Crouching small, behind your mike.
You love to see contestants cringing,
This is a quiz; it’s not a lynching.
Face ******* up behind her glasses.
I’ve seen better bums on lasses.
Centre spot on stage she poses,
A jagged thorn on jet-black roses.
She’d like us to believe, I think.
She’d never be the weakest link.
Superior look upon her face,
Shame about the old boat race.
What’s this I see? You have a degree?
Still, you’ll never be as good as me.
Who chose that dress? Don’t like the shirt!
She loves to dig and throw the dirt.
Oh! And you belong to Mensa.
I’ve never met anyone who’s denser.
This is a quiz, I hope you know?
You’re the weakest link; you’ll have to go.
She earns more money than the Queen.
She’ll never be an old has been.
Was she born or just invented?
Let’s hope the moulds been lost or dented.
Where do you come from? No don’t know it.
Still you’re common and you show it.
I’m from Liverpool; I’m a Scouse,
You ought to see my big fine house.
It’s easy when you have the answers; see!
Too believe you are much cleverer than we.
But you’re not that clever, Ann we think.
Oh and one more thing, I Hate That Wink!
Dec 29, 2009
Dec 29, 2009 at 11:52 PM UTC
I loved her face
until her eyes narrowed
in disgust
and her red lips
spewed cringing hate
That's when I knew
beauty does not exist
All we have
is *** and
survival
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
"I think ***** may be a tragic hero,"
A student said,
"Linda tells her boys he is an average man,
And it's time for average men to be attended.
That he gets up and goes to work each day
Is enough to make him a hero."
We listen in the darkened room,
Breaking to think our thoughts aloud
Before we dive back into the pool
Of Loman miseries:
The braggart wearing down,
The cringing rage against
The darning of socks,
Silken stocking memories,
Naughtiness recapitulated.
And sons spinning round
The vortex edge,
Wondering whether
To bail or pledge....
The stage is growing dark,
The audience darker,
Receding from bright memories,
Nobility's idyllic days denied,
Nothing left but the emptiness of pride.
Accepting brassiness and braggadocio,
We lean, breathless beneath skyscrapers,
Accepting commission-only pay,
The emptiness of false news,
And mediocre heroes.
"Boys! The woods are burning!
Can't you understand?
There's a big blaze going all around!"
But no one understands.
We are all dreamers,
Hoping America makes us great again,
Wishing to live the Salesman's life,
Willing to leave Plan B hidden
Behind the fusebox for now...
If only hope remains,
If only champagne wishes,
Caviar dreams besot us in our schemes.
"Nobody dast blame this man!"
Says Charlie, and he is right.
It's tough being out there
Living on a wing and a prayer,
Promising the moon,
Promised the moon,
Age coming on,
No seeds planted,
No sun to shine
On what's left
Of the garden....
A little salary,
A smile,
A shoeshine,
Cannot suffice.
Believing dreams that lie
Is no reason to live;
Seeing the blue sky alone
Is no reason,
If there's nothing to own,
And no place to call home.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Meet me in the streetlight
Meet me in the sky
Meet me in the wrinkled grass
Meet me in the high.
Let's meet under lashes
Let's meet in the dust
Let's meet where it’s burnt and stale
Let's meet amidst the trust.
I’ll see you in just a little while
Hiding in my poem
I’ll see you through the pinkest glass
I’ll see you and you alone.
Find me in the smoke
And then find me in the shade
Find me when there’s no one else
I’ll be killing the charade.
Come searching on my doorstep
Come longing for my tugs
Come bury what you mustn’t know
Come cringing at my lungs.
Meet me at the crime scene
Meet me in the dark
Meet me when it’s the end of ends
In the moment of the spark.
Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Before bed,
first thing in the morning,
when you randomly wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
In the beginning it's almost like a new toy or a car,
the excitement when you first download it,
the careful precision with which your profile is created,
how into it you are all day all night,
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Then slowly a pattern emerges.
You get the insanely sporty ones,
running, jumping, swimming, lifting freaking weights,
and you think if I were looking for a personal trainer I would swipe right but no thanks.
Then there are the travelers,
on a world tour since the beginning of time with no permanent address, let alone any potential for a relationship, so you swipe left on instability.
Then there are the 6 packs and no heads,
making you wonder when muscles and treasure trails overrode eyes,
and cringing at the sight of those semi shirt lifted body shots, you swipe left.
Then there are genuinely you're not attracted type,
too much baggage type,
too good looking making you skeptical type,
standing too close to girls type,
reptiles as pets type,
really bad grammar or purging emoticons type,
alcohol is a hobby type,
no ambition or future type,
on all which you keep swiping left.
Every now and then there's the just right type, with the right amount of words and smiles,
sincerely looking for something more than *** or just good at pretending they are,
so you swipe right.
A match...
You never end up talking anyway so swiping on, all day long,
and you realize this is bull ****
The only thing that's getting anything is your right index finger,
and there are much better ways in which it too can be put into use.
You realize even after expanding the age limits to highly questionable numbers and including the maximum area in distance,
and proactively lowering your standards,
you still haven't swiped right on Mr. Right.
You realize you aren't looking but rather searching for that one face, that specific personality who already escaped between your fingers like that one cute guy you accidentally swiped left on a super drunk night while eating peanut butter out of the jar,
or that one guy who you thought was perfect so you super liked but never liked you back.
You realize you are searching for a specific person who doesn't have a Tinder profile but lives in the same building as you, who'll never swipe right for you even if he had the chance.
So you unmatch all those stupidly silent, mute, mistakes of matches, reset the preferences to more respectable limits and...
Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--Swipe--
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC