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"cripplingly" poems
The tests say 98% neurotic. The doctor says I'm just passionate. My parents say I'm too sensitive. Lovers say I'm too clingy. I say I'm just ******* crazy. I feel everything so deeply. Love is so instense. Fear is crippling. Pain is paralyzing. Joy is euphoria. Maybe I'm too passionate, Or emotional, Or sensitive, Or whatever. But I know one thing, That I'm deeply, Madly, Cripplingly, And euphorically, In love with you.
0
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Go hard or go home
oh what sustains this mind a mind that teeters on the edge of a spiral vertigo that sways and rocks in an unease of palpitations attempting to escape from the brutal insensitivity of the granite faces that occupy the streets a mind of hallucinated perceptions with a constant stream of imagery that finds a difficulty in the self negotiation, the articulation of its inner geography where a frightened availability of disturbance in the vocabulary of its chemical graffiti leaves speech vacated on the tongue where eyes are pushed to see a discord of sympathies for different dimensions that has one disassociated, cut off from the immediate living in an inner dialogue of rebellious and unconventional preoccupations a self alienation that heightens the poetic colouring of the imagination causes a ************ of the mind that makes me cripplingly aware of the abyss at the heart of my inner disquiet makes my toes hover on the jagged edge of the world yet I jump choosing discovery over societal dictum to do rather than be
0
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
to do rather than be
The familiar rush of adrenaline hits almost cripplingly Your hands have become adjusted to my every curve My eyes dart my voice becomes a thick, heavy syrup I flinch at first but it switches to thrashing about Even just sitting in your near vicinity drives me batty
0
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Adrenaline
life is horrible sometimes you'll go from on top of the world to under it in a matter of minutes it happens life is sad sometimes but you do not deserve to be sad so turn your music up loud enough to tune out the loneliness and drive until you can't feel the tears on your cheeks sleep, and sleep, and sleep, but then please, get out of your bed put on your favorite clothes and go to the mall walk past those boys and know that you look good even if today is not your day watch movies that will make you laugh be around people that will make you laugh read things that will make you laugh laugh go to the pet store and play with some puppies if that's what's going to make you happy but do not destroy yourself you are not allowed to destroy yourself even if you are cripplingly sad there is help out there and you are not allowed to destroy yourself there is happiness out there all you have to do is find it
0
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 2:23 PM UTC
happiness
The chatter in the room is almost mundane The woman behind me has a dog she’s keeping outside who the neighbors aren’t too fond of because he’s a bit loud at night I got to my hair appointment almost 15 minuets late as I slipped through the door of the I suppose modern styled ‘Yellow Strawberry’ my mother was on the phone She wears this head set that wraps around your neck and never realizes she yells when she is talking to people and it makes me cripplingly anxious The mirrors are tall and filled with unimpressed faces glaring at us as my marvelous royal purple polyester velvet skirt glistens in the sunlight peeking in from the dropped shades I mutter out the time of my appointment apologize that we are late and give them my name I know it is spelt wrong in the computer, and the odds of one of the people in here having a dog named bella are unbelievable high As I’m escorted back to my hair dressers station I remember, I need to repaint my chipped glittery red nail polish before I pick all of it off and feel disgusting But this particular nail polish is extremely difficult to get off and I regret every-time I paint my nails with it But it looks so god **** beautiful in the sunlight and my lover adores the color against my almost porcelain  like skin so I indulge from now and again I am here to hopefully cut about three inches off of my hair, it’s getting too long it sits painfully at about an inch or two below my shoulders Four months ago I cut off about 10 inches and I felt about 50 pounds of anxiety lift from my chest I think my fears started to manifest in my curls and the knots that kept returning reminding me over and over again I needed a desperate change And now I’m finding myself approaching another much needed change, it’s nice
0
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
3’ off
The chatter in the room is almost mundane The woman behind me has a dog she’s keeping outside who the neighbors aren’t too fond of because he’s a bit loud at night I got to my hair appointment almost 15 minuets late as I slipped through the door of the I suppose modern styled ‘Yellow Strawberry’ my mother was on the phone She wears this head set that wraps around your neck and never realizes she yells when she is talking to people and it makes me cripplingly anxious The mirrors are tall and filled with unimpressed faces glaring at us as my marvelous royal purple polyester velvet skirt glistens in the sunlight peeking in from the dropped shades I mutter out the time of my appointment apologize that we are late and give them my name I know it is spelt wrong in the computer, and the odds of one of the people in here having a dog named bella are unbelievable high As I’m escorted back to my hair dressers station I remember, I need to repaint my chipped glittery red nail polish before I pick all of it off and feel disgusting But this particular nail polish is extremely difficult to get off and I regret every-time I paint my nails with it But it looks so god **** beautiful in the sunlight and my lover adores the color against my almost porcelain  like skin so I indulge from now and again I am here to hopefully cut about three inches off of my hair, it’s getting too long it sits painfully at about an inch or two below my shoulders Four months ago I cut off about 10 inches and I felt about 50 pounds of anxiety lift from my chest I think my fears started to manifest in my curls and the knots that kept returning reminding me over and over again I needed a desperate change And now I’m finding myself approaching another much needed change, it’s nice
Continue reading...
14
I remember when I wrote my first proper story at ten It was called Gateway to Heaven. When My grandad died I found myself preoccupied With the notion of the afterlife Cause I could not believe that someone Like him could simply be gone. Couple that with an obsession With space exploration And what you got was a spiritual sci-fi. To be honest it was more a screenplay I bought it into class for some reason one day Not sure why Maybe I wanted someone to read it. Left it on my desk and went for a **** And when I got back my teacher Who had a bit of a flare for the amateur dramatics WAS reading it. I was met with an intrigued gaze as I walked back in, I remember thinking *ahh why are you going through peoples things?! That's rude!* (Although I secretly knew she would) Tryin not to blush as she asked Me questions about it, then asked me to stand up and read the plot out to the class. At this point what you've got to factor in is that I was incredibly shy, hmm no maybe not shy, more under confident. Not cripplingly so, don't get me wrong I was incredibly social, was very popular in my class as a child but when it came to sharing thoughts of my introspection, any talent or shows of confidence, well let's just say I'd learnt to keep that **** to myself... But I stood up and read it. And was met with a mass of baffled gazes, a memory that I don't think will ever leave me. To be fair it was pretty out there, all black holes, theology and grief. The silence that fell, matching the silence of space itself makes me wary of silences still. That eternal moment Tryin to Guage the judgement thinking oh **** it! now everyone knows I'm weird, shoulda just stuck to my status quo in my final year. But it was broken eventually by my friend Funmi who said "I don't get it" I'll never forget it, it was sorta funny, mostly disappointing. I wish I had the mentality at that time to think these guys just ain't ready for me but I guess that was that, class went back to what it was doing,   teacher came up with a look of approval and some words of encouragement which was odd, she wasn't my favourite teacher at all and she knew it full well and i spose that marks my underwhelming moment in the spotlight... *Although I've always maintained the belief that it'll shine bright on me one day or maybe I'll outshine it*
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
Portal to the Past
I remember when I wrote my first proper story at ten It was called Gateway to Heaven. When My grandad died I found myself preoccupied With the notion of the afterlife Cause I could not believe that someone Like him could simply be gone. Couple that with an obsession With space exploration And what you got was a spiritual sci-fi. To be honest it was more a screenplay I bought it into class for some reason one day Not sure why Maybe I wanted someone to read it. Left it on my desk and went for a **** And when I got back my teacher Who had a bit of a flare for the amateur dramatics WAS reading it. I was met with an intrigued gaze as I walked back in, I remember thinking *ahh why are you going through peoples things?! That's rude!* (Although I secretly knew she would) Tryin not to blush as she asked Me questions about it, then asked me to stand up and read the plot out to the class. At this point what you've got to factor in is that I was incredibly shy, hmm no maybe not shy, more under confident. Not cripplingly so, don't get me wrong I was incredibly social, was very popular in my class as a child but when it came to sharing thoughts of my introspection, any talent or shows of confidence, well let's just say I'd learnt to keep that **** to myself... But I stood up and read it. And was met with a mass of baffled gazes, a memory that I don't think will ever leave me. To be fair it was pretty out there, all black holes, theology and grief. The silence that fell, matching the silence of space itself makes me wary of silences still. That eternal moment Tryin to Guage the judgement thinking oh **** it! now everyone knows I'm weird, shoulda just stuck to my status quo in my final year. But it was broken eventually by my friend Funmi who said "I don't get it" I'll never forget it, it was sorta funny, mostly disappointing. I wish I had the mentality at that time to think these guys just ain't ready for me but I guess that was that, class went back to what it was doing,   teacher came up with a look of approval and some words of encouragement which was odd, she wasn't my favourite teacher at all and she knew it full well and i spose that marks my underwhelming moment in the spotlight... *Although I've always maintained the belief that it'll shine bright on me one day or maybe I'll outshine it*
Continue reading...
72
Speciesism is overlooked. It is really no different from racism and sexism. Animals compare to us in many ways: They feel pain, cry and scream, have family they love and care about. However, they lack voices so cannot act on this themselves, but we can. It is ignorant to believe these animals live their lives to the full, merrily grazing in peaceful green fields and dying a death of no agony when the time comes. Unfortunately, this is far from the truth. Ignorance may be bliss for you but it is certainly not for them. Open your eyes. Born into this cruel world naive enough to trust us, unaware of the living Hell they are destined for when they face the trauma of being torn from their mother and crammed into a cripplingly tiny compartment for most of their life. Endlessly being pushed, prodded and trampled on and off to the slaughterhouse while still an infant or remain in this brutal Hell only to be forcibly impregnated and used as a milk machine. An animal wants to live just as much as us. They are not meat, milk and egg machines. They do not exist to please our gluttonous appetites. Love and protect them like our pets because they are really no different. No being should be born to suffer.
0
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
Born To Suffer
"My life is ruined, man", he said, not having sipped his beer or taken an anxious sip on his cigarette in a hot second. He was a stranger to me, breathed heavily, overweight, but made of gold it seemed. My friends were wasted and we were sitting on the roof after a long night of them getting drunk. "All our lives are ruined", I replied naively. "But it's heroine man", he told me, "Nine out of ten people addicted to heroine die from it." He was right, at whatever right was. "You're going to be that one, then.", my friend chimed in. "I know, it just ***** everyone else is going to die", he continued. I laughed. "Don't laugh at that", I was reprimanded. **** though, everyone else dies too. I can't stand this place between dying and being cripplingly apathetic about everything, and most people I know live it. That edge. I don't know a lot of people too excited about waking up and going through the motions. Most of us think about dying when we're happy; not quietly into the night but quietly. Just disappearing in a flash without light. An instant, but quicker.
0
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
"10 Out of 10 People Die."
Time, the malleable system of measurement Sometimes the task at hand is so cripplingly normal that time grows so cold and grinds its way across the floor Other times its burning up, as we stress over the burning orange outline that gradually shrinks around what little left we need But... What I like are the moments where time doesn't exist for us at all Moments so distinct that time is shed from our concept of reality for just a little while And we exist in a different way The moments come quickly from a fog of aesthetic distinction They run cellularly transparent across your skin, triggering that extra layer The goosebumps, the rush,  those irises of yours widening and dilating or closing shut to let your ears see instead Time, responsibility, the worrying and the mundane dropping from your shoulders, torso and legs There is no self, there is no calculation There is only now And you ******* love it
0
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
Moments to remember
It reverberates with a vast and low drumming across the hollow space inside the soul, occupying simultaneously the distance of the universe itself and the unimaginably minute. In a space of good fortune and rebirth, so conjunctionally close to death— It is present moment and past, both godly and cripplingly mortal, to the place that resides between eternity and transience. Both golden with ecstasy and layered in the decay of sadness, For a brief moment we are truly able to see it. So silently we stare at ourselves and everything there is, 
 And we know.
 With nostalgia already dripping from every moment and pooling at our feet in the regret of lost time.
0
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
It
Forget the seasons Their flavors hold no inherent meaning Manufactured frostbite Fleeting Overpaid cosmeticians mask our ugly dealings How cripplingly demeaning Forget the seasons Their flavors still hold no real meaning Amputated tree limbs Seating Underpriced prostitution builds translucent ceilings How cripplingly demeaning Was it worth the price of heaven? To view angels as the demons To build a sulfur kingdom far away from sheepish bleating Though joyful sound resounds around the fallen flock I've found, I cannot make a sound that permeates when I'm not bleeding. Take your trivial differings draw, them up in stippling and call it meaningfully crippling.
0
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
The price of heaven
A picture perfect serenity of waves crashing at the shore. The reflections of stars so bright giving a new lease of light (life). You see the wonder of the world lay out in front of you; how I wish I could see the world through your eyes, even if just for tonight? We are nothing but marks in the sand waiting to be washed away with the tide. The black abys of nothingness the sea offers up, tempting fate between life and death. Do I dare to risk being washed away in wishful thinking? Or, do I let the cripplingly cold waves take me under? A picture perfect serenity of waves washing troubles away. The reflections of a million dreams illuminating the night providing quintessential peace never experienced before. You see life as if it were a painting unique to us all; everyone sees the beauty, even if not always understood. We all leave our marks across the sand, basking in its never ending beautiful optimism. The unknowing views of opportunity amiss, the most sacred, forgotten hearts finding salvation. Do we dare to try taking risks into the unknown, no-matter the price? Or, do we hold onto what we know, always playing it safe?
0
Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 12:52 PM UTC
Picture perfect serentiy
i don't love my job i don't love my studies i don't love my town i don't love my relationships i don't love myself i am so ******* done with not feeling love all i feel is sad heart cripplingly sad i don't want to feel nothing any more
0
Aug 9, 2014
Aug 9, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
nothing
There is a labor dispute protest outside of the hospital I was born in and I can't help thinking Did this ****** up world formulate this ****** up mind? Or did I  simply come into this world corrupt with the surroundings to match? I've been cripplingly depressed these last few months and it is beginning to take it's toll on my body, I'm so sick of regulars at my workplace commenting on how thin I've become. A friend hugged me, felt my protruding rib cage and asked if I was okay. I said, define okay, because the word has lost it's meaning over the repetition of the phrase in my mind, i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay. These lows, so easily justifiable when I'm just drunk, and sad. But it's so much harder when i'm sober and my world's still falling apart. I am soberish now and realizing the extent to which I am not over so many things. I am not over the rejection of the boy I still so badly desire, and having to see him so happy with his old lover. I am not over how drained I feel from 50+ hour work weeks. I am not over the discomfort of the place I call home. I am not over the past lovers who despise me. Then there is you, the former lover I still lust for, I'm so very much not over you, yet I know things couldn't possibly ever work out. I am ******* sick to death of dreaming of you every god ****** night, waking only to feel utterly demolished inside. It's been months, why won't you leave my mind? I'm on the brink of insanity and I don't even know where to begin to find the path to recovery.
0
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 4:03 AM UTC
Half drunk, fragments of a spiral.
There is a labor dispute protest outside of the hospital I was born in and I can't help thinking Did this ****** up world formulate this ****** up mind? Or did I  simply come into this world corrupt with the surroundings to match? I've been cripplingly depressed these last few months and it is beginning to take it's toll on my body, I'm so sick of regulars at my workplace commenting on how thin I've become. A friend hugged me, felt my protruding rib cage and asked if I was okay. I said, define okay, because the word has lost it's meaning over the repetition of the phrase in my mind, i'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay. These lows, so easily justifiable when I'm just drunk, and sad. But it's so much harder when i'm sober and my world's still falling apart. I am soberish now and realizing the extent to which I am not over so many things. I am not over the rejection of the boy I still so badly desire, and having to see him so happy with his old lover. I am not over how drained I feel from 50+ hour work weeks. I am not over the discomfort of the place I call home. I am not over the past lovers who despise me. Then there is you, the former lover I still lust for, I'm so very much not over you, yet I know things couldn't possibly ever work out. I am ******* sick to death of dreaming of you every god ****** night, waking only to feel utterly demolished inside. It's been months, why won't you leave my mind? I'm on the brink of insanity and I don't even know where to begin to find the path to recovery.
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37
every single person carries something around there is not one who is not cripplingly sad about something .. I think it's vital to teach our children to look beyond the surface to know that there is good in people to know that everyone is a victim of something but to never forget people can also play villains
0
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
just a thought
You know how lonely you've left me? Tired and empty— I don't want *** with a stranger I want you to hold me, in the crook of your arm like a baby. It's so hard to love me, so hard to be happy. It's not even you, just to know you don't want me. It's so ******* lonely. So cripplingly lonely.
0
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
I'm going to bed