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"decomposition" poems
survival of the most dissociative you don’t need anyone to make you feel you can feel all by yourself you can feel any emotion you want you have been given the full reportoire whiteness can give you wealth can get you ***** and enslaved whiteness can get you anything any type of dissociation legal liberty dissociative profit an accumulation of dissociative value to get this much sugar dissociative cooperation of whiteness an empire of dissociative investment dissociative throne of power out of control with the need to control anger jealousy envy of those who are trying to be human native culture ethnicity anger and frustration force and pressure to make dissociate whiteness breathing together against if the cooperation of whiteness catches you going back to help those it tried to bury behind dissociative reality a desperate reality that ceases to exist when the intensity of the dissociative cooperation ceases to exist am I the only one manifesting this honesty a diagnosis of the diagnosers intimate communication tattooing the world forever undeniable language of change I gave all the history of dissociation to the world exposing abuse that is the pride of dissociative white supremacy we are not the objects of dissociative value an association of focus not cooperating studying and exposing resisting dissociation conflicting value of nativity accumulative value of resistance resilience unafraid unflinching fearless vulnerable reincarnating intimate honesty lights down low revolution subtle in the face of dissociative force I need my fix of dissociation please do it with me no wait reinforce resistance keep it up with breathing dont conspire dissociation I am decomposition so I leave behind an abrasive language so abrasive any remnant of sensitivity of dissociation is drawn in to contemplate to question its intentions an exorcism of dissociative whiteness giving into nativity self righteousness desperately competing to dissociate like whiteness **** them and you there is beauty outside of this dissociation Americanized the diseased spread of dissociative ******* dissociative procreation the evolution of dissociative selection Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed it is fun and exciting to denounce dissociation do it with me
0
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
elan-bonde-gregory
survival of the most dissociative
survival of the most dissociative you don’t need anyone to make you feel you can feel all by yourself you can feel any emotion you want you have been given the full reportoire whiteness can give you wealth can get you ***** and enslaved whiteness can get you anything any type of dissociation legal liberty dissociative profit an accumulation of dissociative value to get this much sugar dissociative cooperation of whiteness an empire of dissociative investment dissociative throne of power out of control with the need to control anger jealousy envy of those who are trying to be human native culture ethnicity anger and frustration force and pressure to make dissociate whiteness breathing together against if the cooperation of whiteness catches you going back to help those it tried to bury behind dissociative reality a desperate reality that ceases to exist when the intensity of the dissociative cooperation ceases to exist am I the only one manifesting this honesty a diagnosis of the diagnosers intimate communication tattooing the world forever undeniable language of change I gave all the history of dissociation to the world exposing abuse that is the pride of dissociative white supremacy we are not the objects of dissociative value an association of focus not cooperating studying and exposing resisting dissociation conflicting value of nativity accumulative value of resistance resilience unafraid unflinching fearless vulnerable reincarnating intimate honesty lights down low revolution subtle in the face of dissociative force I need my fix of dissociation please do it with me no wait reinforce resistance keep it up with breathing dont conspire dissociation I am decomposition so I leave behind an abrasive language so abrasive any remnant of sensitivity of dissociation is drawn in to contemplate to question its intentions an exorcism of dissociative whiteness giving into nativity self righteousness desperately competing to dissociate like whiteness **** them and you there is beauty outside of this dissociation Americanized the diseased spread of dissociative ******* dissociative procreation the evolution of dissociative selection Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed it is fun and exciting to denounce dissociation do it with me
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97
In my pursuit of a higher education I am now starting to study the process of human decomposition And how strange we all rot away like road **** and plant vegetation. I see the word Casper and my memory takes me back to when I was a child Remembering he was a sad and lonely invisible cartoon character. I am now reading it is a proven scientific law, that after you pass And you give up your ghost, your body then becomes A breeding ground and you are the decaying host. Trying to hide the evidence you’re now digging a shallow grave Don’t do that because it takes eight times longer Thinking about submerging in water? Yes, it’s a little quicker But if someone did you seriously wrong and unfair The quickest way to decompose them is, Just leave them hiding under some brush and in the summer open air So then the flies, insects and bee's’ can make a home in their hair. Sir Isaac Newton told the world how gravity should behave And now a modern man proved it is no longer so I can see now, Newton is raging hard and deep inside his grave. I have not a single fear the only thing that scares me is, I know without any doubt now that I am insanely brave Trust me I’ll drag your corpse also and hide it in my make shift grave. I’m out on a night prowl to change Casper’s law And prove to you all that it was really only just a theory Reading books about death gives me a thrill, Better pray and hope I don’t someday become terminally ill Everything I do stems from my madness and with it, Premeditated thoughts and also a great conspiracy.  (SirCARSr. 3-2-2013)
0
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 5:05 PM UTC
curt-a-rivard-sr
Casper’s Law of Decomposition
In my pursuit of a higher education I am now starting to study the process of human decomposition And how strange we all rot away like road **** and plant vegetation. I see the word Casper and my memory takes me back to when I was a child Remembering he was a sad and lonely invisible cartoon character. I am now reading it is a proven scientific law, that after you pass And you give up your ghost, your body then becomes A breeding ground and you are the decaying host. Trying to hide the evidence you’re now digging a shallow grave Don’t do that because it takes eight times longer Thinking about submerging in water? Yes, it’s a little quicker But if someone did you seriously wrong and unfair The quickest way to decompose them is, Just leave them hiding under some brush and in the summer open air So then the flies, insects and bee's’ can make a home in their hair. Sir Isaac Newton told the world how gravity should behave And now a modern man proved it is no longer so I can see now, Newton is raging hard and deep inside his grave. I have not a single fear the only thing that scares me is, I know without any doubt now that I am insanely brave Trust me I’ll drag your corpse also and hide it in my make shift grave. I’m out on a night prowl to change Casper’s law And prove to you all that it was really only just a theory Reading books about death gives me a thrill, Better pray and hope I don’t someday become terminally ill Everything I do stems from my madness and with it, Premeditated thoughts and also a great conspiracy.  (SirCARSr. 3-2-2013)
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28
After my mother died, my room was filled with roses.  When the flowers died, my room was filled with their sweet, rotten stench for weeks on end; it sunk into my pores and into my DNA and years later, I still smell like dead roses.                                                 My sister confuses this smell with dead lilies. A bouquet of red roses was placed atop my mother’s coffin as it lowered six feet down into the earth.  After the roses died, I wonder if my mother could smell them like I did?  I wonder if she still smells them, or, more likely, how long it took for the roses to disintegrate into dust like her?   We don’t talk about the body after death because we don’t like to be reminded of how vulnerable we really are. In high school, a boy asked me to prom using roses and lilies that were all different shades of reds and oranges and yellows like fire.  Lilies like funerals and tombstones and formaldehyde. I don’t think he meant to remind me of death.  I don’t think his intention was to place me in a casket similar to my mother’s with its pink padded walls.  I don’t think he realized that’s where I went when I saw his basement covered in bouquets of hellfire.  I think he meant the roses to be romantic, but I looked at them and saw my mother’s putrefying face, saw her intestines eaten away by savage bacteria and bugs, saw her eyelids drying out and peeling back like black and dead and withered lily petals.  Embalming does not prevent decomposition, only prolongs it.  I have embalmed my mother's memory in the shape of a teal notebook.  I cannot tell if it has                                                                        begun to decay or not.
0
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 2:31 PM UTC
taylor-st-onge
Dead Bodies and Dead Flowers Smell Pretty Much The Same (No One Can Escape Complete Decomposition)
After my mother died, my room was filled with roses.  When the flowers died, my room was filled with their sweet, rotten stench for weeks on end; it sunk into my pores and into my DNA and years later, I still smell like dead roses.                                                 My sister confuses this smell with dead lilies. A bouquet of red roses was placed atop my mother’s coffin as it lowered six feet down into the earth.  After the roses died, I wonder if my mother could smell them like I did?  I wonder if she still smells them, or, more likely, how long it took for the roses to disintegrate into dust like her?   We don’t talk about the body after death because we don’t like to be reminded of how vulnerable we really are. In high school, a boy asked me to prom using roses and lilies that were all different shades of reds and oranges and yellows like fire.  Lilies like funerals and tombstones and formaldehyde. I don’t think he meant to remind me of death.  I don’t think his intention was to place me in a casket similar to my mother’s with its pink padded walls.  I don’t think he realized that’s where I went when I saw his basement covered in bouquets of hellfire.  I think he meant the roses to be romantic, but I looked at them and saw my mother’s putrefying face, saw her intestines eaten away by savage bacteria and bugs, saw her eyelids drying out and peeling back like black and dead and withered lily petals.  Embalming does not prevent decomposition, only prolongs it.  I have embalmed my mother's memory in the shape of a teal notebook.  I cannot tell if it has                                                                        begun to decay or not.
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10
⊙ *Luke 12:49 “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”* This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden No crops will grow, no sun will shine No cool breeze to clean the air of the smell of decomposition Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope Which my black boots stomp on I walk the ruin in silence I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree Turning, frowning The monster is me Its eyes are as red as judgement day As red as the faces of the condemed Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy As red as the blood ********** in this ancient garden This is a battleground Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot Before they disappeared But me I stood here Feeling all feeling being drained out I walked past a monster weeping by a tree “Everything good must come to an end,” Mystery says Pursing her lips “And so must everything wicked But the memories Those which encircle their victim And slowly tighten like great snakes Suffocating their prey Those last forever And if those memories last forever Then how can one remain pure in heaven Without thinking about sin Temptation must surely creep in Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea Who is pure anyway?” I know she is lying (Turning) But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive (Frowning) I look inside my heart to reassure myself (Turning) There is hope (Frowning) But there’s nothing there (And the monster is me) In the vegetable garden A ruin A wasteland I stand Not really existing ⊥ ⊣⊙⊢ ⊤
0
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
english_jam_darling
In Judgement's Eye
⊙ *Luke 12:49 “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”* This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden No crops will grow, no sun will shine No cool breeze to clean the air of the smell of decomposition Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope Which my black boots stomp on I walk the ruin in silence I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree Turning, frowning The monster is me Its eyes are as red as judgement day As red as the faces of the condemed Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy As red as the blood ********** in this ancient garden This is a battleground Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot Before they disappeared But me I stood here Feeling all feeling being drained out I walked past a monster weeping by a tree “Everything good must come to an end,” Mystery says Pursing her lips “And so must everything wicked But the memories Those which encircle their victim And slowly tighten like great snakes Suffocating their prey Those last forever And if those memories last forever Then how can one remain pure in heaven Without thinking about sin Temptation must surely creep in Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea Who is pure anyway?” I know she is lying (Turning) But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive (Frowning) I look inside my heart to reassure myself (Turning) There is hope (Frowning) But there’s nothing there (And the monster is me) In the vegetable garden A ruin A wasteland I stand Not really existing ⊥ ⊣⊙⊢ ⊤
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59
Sometimes I’m afraid of being sick Afraid that what I am has a name Afraid that I helped create a term     Sometimes I feel it Feel the me that decays Feel the heart that pumps the rot around   Sometimes I wonder if my decomposition can slow Wonder if my blood needs thinning Wonder if  I need a leech so as not to rot   Sometimes I feel Sometimes I wonder Then I remember that this sometimes does not matter   Because death is certainly permanent
0
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:38 AM UTC
life
I Decay
Sometimes I’m afraid of being sick Afraid that what I am has a name Afraid that I helped create a term     Sometimes I feel it Feel the me that decays Feel the heart that pumps the rot around   Sometimes I wonder if my decomposition can slow Wonder if my blood needs thinning Wonder if  I need a leech so as not to rot   Sometimes I feel Sometimes I wonder Then I remember that this sometimes does not matter   Because death is certainly permanent
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13
I can smell the heat of the day The off gassing of materials The decomposition of grass I smell the earth drying in the bake          of this southern sky.
0
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
sherlene2
Summer Heat
I can smell the heat of the day The off gassing of materials The decomposition of grass I smell the earth drying in the bake          of this southern sky.
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5
raise the glass high high high and press hard high, a blue and cherry ring round rosy thigh, snapped red sting of infected eye and tooth strung on string. broken wing crunches, candid cries let tears fly in desperate persecution. red sticky red and beautiful flesh-fly's food becomes a diamond wing, flying in swirling skies of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope. claw the eyes out out out and spit stress out, a crooked view on nose and cheeks and pout deep blue rows on distended snout as swollen skin grows. drunken woes crunch and broken knuckles shout in hasty intemperance. blue puffy blue and beautiful deep stout bruises becomes a diamond glow spinning in burst vein's woes of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope. dump the body down down down and pat dirt down, a stealthy sin of spite and muddy frown, **** green sight of a ***** crown hidden in the night. swirls of light break thoughts up to run around in crude decomposition. green sickly green and beautiful dirt-drowned flesh becomes diamond sprites, dancing in wormy gowns of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope.
0
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 12:42 PM UTC
noah
Kaleidoscope
raise the glass high high high and press hard high, a blue and cherry ring round rosy thigh, snapped red sting of infected eye and tooth strung on string. broken wing crunches, candid cries let tears fly in desperate persecution. red sticky red and beautiful flesh-fly's food becomes a diamond wing, flying in swirling skies of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope. claw the eyes out out out and spit stress out, a crooked view on nose and cheeks and pout deep blue rows on distended snout as swollen skin grows. drunken woes crunch and broken knuckles shout in hasty intemperance. blue puffy blue and beautiful deep stout bruises becomes a diamond glow spinning in burst vein's woes of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope. dump the body down down down and pat dirt down, a stealthy sin of spite and muddy frown, **** green sight of a ***** crown hidden in the night. swirls of light break thoughts up to run around in crude decomposition. green sickly green and beautiful dirt-drowned flesh becomes diamond sprites, dancing in wormy gowns of glitter. The world looks better through a kaleidoscope.
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30
I smelt the rose of death and Its aroma Was sweet decay, I took it in each breath. Its thorns were beautifully onyx shining Decomposition in shaded light. Its pollen was like cyanide on my senses, I took a last breath, oblivion greeted me. I was silent but in my muteness it blossomed, Feed on the remnant of flesh and flourished.
0
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
poetic-t
Scent Of Thorned Death
I smelt the rose of death and Its aroma Was sweet decay, I took it in each breath. Its thorns were beautifully onyx shining Decomposition in shaded light. Its pollen was like cyanide on my senses, I took a last breath, oblivion greeted me. I was silent but in my muteness it blossomed, Feed on the remnant of flesh and flourished.
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8
days crawl by and humidity stills the air. the black flies are late this season, though around here, most things are. below the gnat line, girls like me seldom get to die easily, perfumed powders masking the scent of illness, flushed cheeks and damp foreheads donned as our feeble bodies recline on fainting couches to delicately languish away. we know that there’s a certain beauty to decomposition, to fungus gnats invading potted soil, to fruit flies nesting in sink drains. we know that rotting is a clock that never stops, tallying each unflinching, humid second while the days crawl by.
0
Jun 22, 2023
Jun 22, 2023 at 8:04 PM UTC
moniqueezeh
flood watch
days crawl by and humidity stills the air. the black flies are late this season, though around here, most things are. below the gnat line, girls like me seldom get to die easily, perfumed powders masking the scent of illness, flushed cheeks and damp foreheads donned as our feeble bodies recline on fainting couches to delicately languish away. we know that there’s a certain beauty to decomposition, to fungus gnats invading potted soil, to fruit flies nesting in sink drains. we know that rotting is a clock that never stops, tallying each unflinching, humid second while the days crawl by.
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17
Another day, another hour spent looking at cadavers, Surprisingly fun, and suspiciously fresh bodies- "Hey Mrs. Johnson, what do you think John did with his life?" She gave me a look that didn't seem too pleased at my inquisition. Or the fact that I named our body John. Morbidly, I thought she looked at me like a zombie would look at our friend John like a cold cut subway sandwich, Although I figured if I were a zombie, I'd prefer my meat fresh, and not embalmed with formaldehydes and ethanol. "That thought seems inappropriate and not respectful of the medical sacrifice 'john' made " she said dripping with in my opinion too much sarcasm for me to NOT respond too. "Well, John is dead, I don't think he's getting offended anytime soon," I retorted. Her smile contorted like the prudish smile John offered me in support. "I'm not worried about offending the corpse as much as I am the ghost, and this Lab will NOT be haunted under my watch" (Her pride in her wit inflated much like Johns body inflated with decomposition and bowel gases.) I apologized internally for the comment and action I was about to make- "This medical dictatorship has to collapse sooner or later- and I still want an answer too my question" And with that, I took the nearest scalpel to his bloated stomach, and watched in disgust and glee as everyone else ran for cover amongst the ****** of stomach contents and Johns final retribution in death. I got an A+ in that class.
0
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 3:25 PM UTC
Bobs_6thsense
Medical dictatorship
Another day, another hour spent looking at cadavers, Surprisingly fun, and suspiciously fresh bodies- "Hey Mrs. Johnson, what do you think John did with his life?" She gave me a look that didn't seem too pleased at my inquisition. Or the fact that I named our body John. Morbidly, I thought she looked at me like a zombie would look at our friend John like a cold cut subway sandwich, Although I figured if I were a zombie, I'd prefer my meat fresh, and not embalmed with formaldehydes and ethanol. "That thought seems inappropriate and not respectful of the medical sacrifice 'john' made " she said dripping with in my opinion too much sarcasm for me to NOT respond too. "Well, John is dead, I don't think he's getting offended anytime soon," I retorted. Her smile contorted like the prudish smile John offered me in support. "I'm not worried about offending the corpse as much as I am the ghost, and this Lab will NOT be haunted under my watch" (Her pride in her wit inflated much like Johns body inflated with decomposition and bowel gases.) I apologized internally for the comment and action I was about to make- "This medical dictatorship has to collapse sooner or later- and I still want an answer too my question" And with that, I took the nearest scalpel to his bloated stomach, and watched in disgust and glee as everyone else ran for cover amongst the ****** of stomach contents and Johns final retribution in death. I got an A+ in that class.
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21
1315 Which is the best—the Moon or the Crescent? Neither—said the Moon— That is best which is not—Achieve it— You efface the Sheen. Not of detention is Fruition— Shudder to attain. Transport’s decomposition follows— He is Prism born.
0
2.5k
Emily Dickinson
Which is the best—the Moon or the Crescent?
1315 Which is the best—the Moon or the Crescent? Neither—said the Moon— That is best which is not—Achieve it— You efface the Sheen. Not of detention is Fruition— Shudder to attain. Transport’s decomposition follows— He is Prism born.
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9
Cheaply manufactured in India Its fake marbled cover fakier than ever But not as fakey as this assignment “Grendl symbolizes existential…” Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout “Grendl symbolizes…” my senior year Nobody understands why I don’t want To go to college, why I quit the band - Grendl and I are both exiles, okay…? Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout I love my fountain pen; its deep, dark lines Just like me Refuse to be MLA marginalized “Grendl symbolizes…”
0
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
lawrence-hall
A Decomposition Book for School
Cheaply manufactured in India Its fake marbled cover fakier than ever But not as fakey as this assignment “Grendl symbolizes existential…” Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout “Grendl symbolizes…” my senior year Nobody understands why I don’t want To go to college, why I quit the band - Grendl and I are both exiles, okay…? Cross out cross out crossoutcrossoutcrossout I love my fountain pen; its deep, dark lines Just like me Refuse to be MLA marginalized “Grendl symbolizes…”
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14
I couldn't figure why she left so I killed her killed the memories cut feelings-- severed; Dismembered in these compositions, decomposition skeleton's wish the fishes she was swimming I could her listen, how her waves are getting colder silent as the ink turns to water. drown in my notebook choke like my love did, no trace missing person drown in my hatred drown you are baptized, opposite, soulless, drown you just capsized, titanic, roses decapitate her DiCaprio even playing all the roles I only get one Oscar? you left me all alone babe, so I safely took the safety off like you, safely made my core soft sole cause of secrets sore cause I keep them no I won't die with you Juliet, slaughtered by a ball point to you I will be Shakespeare and lately, it mattered how I showered you with care maybe but it mattered how I showered you I swear you left me you tempt me this weapon my intent my motive, now I indent-- rarely but clearly this death will be punctual Capital punishment to you in my college ruled, my hands electric black attire funeral-- my ivory dinner jacket, remember you said it's a crime to fall in love and I plead guilt to your probable cause now the pigs wouldn't find her not in mud, not in dirt, I'm on drugs, not on earth, still in love, she, vanished the reality set in, even though you left I'd marry the poem that I killed you in-- I'd marry the words you left me with.
0
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
shfr
Dishonorable Discharge
I couldn't figure why she left so I killed her killed the memories cut feelings-- severed; Dismembered in these compositions, decomposition skeleton's wish the fishes she was swimming I could her listen, how her waves are getting colder silent as the ink turns to water. drown in my notebook choke like my love did, no trace missing person drown in my hatred drown you are baptized, opposite, soulless, drown you just capsized, titanic, roses decapitate her DiCaprio even playing all the roles I only get one Oscar? you left me all alone babe, so I safely took the safety off like you, safely made my core soft sole cause of secrets sore cause I keep them no I won't die with you Juliet, slaughtered by a ball point to you I will be Shakespeare and lately, it mattered how I showered you with care maybe but it mattered how I showered you I swear you left me you tempt me this weapon my intent my motive, now I indent-- rarely but clearly this death will be punctual Capital punishment to you in my college ruled, my hands electric black attire funeral-- my ivory dinner jacket, remember you said it's a crime to fall in love and I plead guilt to your probable cause now the pigs wouldn't find her not in mud, not in dirt, I'm on drugs, not on earth, still in love, she, vanished the reality set in, even though you left I'd marry the poem that I killed you in-- I'd marry the words you left me with.
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46
Years of my tears dry to stale grit Rusting my skin with crusting corrosions of Yesterday's emotions frustrations devotions With time, composting into a dirt coating Renourishing layers of decomposition Green seeds in germination with anticipation Sprouting fresh roots of deeper perception A Glowing. Growing. Living. New Me.
0
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 8:37 PM UTC
aeriaery
Cultivate Me
Years of my tears dry to stale grit Rusting my skin with crusting corrosions of Yesterday's emotions frustrations devotions With time, composting into a dirt coating Renourishing layers of decomposition Green seeds in germination with anticipation Sprouting fresh roots of deeper perception A Glowing. Growing. Living. New Me.
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8
"Don't leave out the graphic details." Oh, trust me. I won't. The gruesome, disturbing, intimacies. The bone-chilling, hair-raising fragments. It's almost too much to bear. But not quite. This vulgarity is just enough to keep them on the edge of their seats. Every tiny, twisted moral of the story. In between the cracks, find shining slivers of redemption. Only to immediately cover them up with rotten deception. Good, ***** flair. Scummy additions. Sick annotations. Keep the masses rollin' in. Complexity, concentration, then chaos when they want more fear. The blood-curdling, stomach-churning truths. The disgraceful, distasteful deductions. We've come to the conclusion they crave this coagulation of **** Dark disdain eating away at the corpse of wellness. Vermin, pests, gnawing, slobbering. Choking on the bones of prosperity. The decomposition of this life is what they love. Flies, gnats, swarm. Maggots clump. Crack, rip, slurp, gag, choke, ******* die.
0
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
ruth-forberg
Horror
"Don't leave out the graphic details." Oh, trust me. I won't. The gruesome, disturbing, intimacies. The bone-chilling, hair-raising fragments. It's almost too much to bear. But not quite. This vulgarity is just enough to keep them on the edge of their seats. Every tiny, twisted moral of the story. In between the cracks, find shining slivers of redemption. Only to immediately cover them up with rotten deception. Good, ***** flair. Scummy additions. Sick annotations. Keep the masses rollin' in. Complexity, concentration, then chaos when they want more fear. The blood-curdling, stomach-churning truths. The disgraceful, distasteful deductions. We've come to the conclusion they crave this coagulation of **** Dark disdain eating away at the corpse of wellness. Vermin, pests, gnawing, slobbering. Choking on the bones of prosperity. The decomposition of this life is what they love. Flies, gnats, swarm. Maggots clump. Crack, rip, slurp, gag, choke, ******* die.
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22
My body rots away Before my very eyes Skin falls free from flesh I reek of decomposition Carnivorous I have become I hunger only for meat Raw and ****** I can not satisfy these cravings As I walk bones break Jutting through tattered clothing I drag them on, unaffected I am death reincarnate Hair peels away from scalp I am far beyond sick This sickness is not cancer I am not dying, I am already dead Retina dangles freely from socket Yet I still see clearly I see a future full of those like me I am the beginning of the end Teeth rest loose in gums Sinking deep into purity, humanity I am the second coming, apocalypse now I am zombie
0
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 10:59 AM UTC
seth-connor-jackson
Zombie
My body rots away Before my very eyes Skin falls free from flesh I reek of decomposition Carnivorous I have become I hunger only for meat Raw and ****** I can not satisfy these cravings As I walk bones break Jutting through tattered clothing I drag them on, unaffected I am death reincarnate Hair peels away from scalp I am far beyond sick This sickness is not cancer I am not dying, I am already dead Retina dangles freely from socket Yet I still see clearly I see a future full of those like me I am the beginning of the end Teeth rest loose in gums Sinking deep into purity, humanity I am the second coming, apocalypse now I am zombie
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24
Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Are you still questioning your genes The color of your skin Your ***** hair Your full lips Are you still questioning why they call you ****** Beat you Mistreat you Hung you Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Cause I still can’t find me Beneath this shadow of darkness This cruel decomposition of myself This king that I’m supposed to be But now reduced to dirt Ashes Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Cause when you do Let me know Cause I need to find me too
0
Aug 9, 2011
Aug 9, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
dennis-k-philbert
Black Boy
Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Are you still questioning your genes The color of your skin Your ***** hair Your full lips Are you still questioning why they call you ****** Beat you Mistreat you Hung you Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Cause I still can’t find me Beneath this shadow of darkness This cruel decomposition of myself This king that I’m supposed to be But now reduced to dirt Ashes Black boy Have you found yourself That you have been searching for Cause when you do Let me know Cause I need to find me too
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26
Foggy breeze through my fingertips when sunburnt days seem coveted in memory. When the columbines came back from the dead. Burnt up cities... The last glimpse of firefly lights grew dim behind me The trees sprouted everywhere like stardust The pillars I once worshipped in incense with amulets became faded ruins... The weathered walls texture were like sequins with no glimmer I escaped again to a place with green lakes and forrests of pines It's quieter up here in the mountains Like a shudder through the window I hear the old house moan all through the day and all through the night The sunlight pierces through the blinds illuminating his face which is already illuminated But you're my bumblebee that insignia- a honey gatherer If you subtract the intimacy out of *** Nothing's left, but hollow mechanical ******* Stealing the rythmn from the music Sturdy as a beam I lay Unable to grasp at anything It's just noise Sweaty day, shivering nights-juxtaposed It's like living on Mercury In decomposition like a basket of rotten lemons Past conversations crush their weight against my open ribs No parent teacher or friend told me how all consuming the sensation would be... Dazed eyes staring through disheveled blinds, I was dropping rose buds off the second floor balcony in the night They hit the scratchy asphalt like a gentle meteor shower Monotonous nights replay the same phases That moon... A face splashing from gibbous to crescent Waning on my malady Always stirring like a steady torch
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Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
bowsnarrows
NEON
Foggy breeze through my fingertips when sunburnt days seem coveted in memory. When the columbines came back from the dead. Burnt up cities... The last glimpse of firefly lights grew dim behind me The trees sprouted everywhere like stardust The pillars I once worshipped in incense with amulets became faded ruins... The weathered walls texture were like sequins with no glimmer I escaped again to a place with green lakes and forrests of pines It's quieter up here in the mountains Like a shudder through the window I hear the old house moan all through the day and all through the night The sunlight pierces through the blinds illuminating his face which is already illuminated But you're my bumblebee that insignia- a honey gatherer If you subtract the intimacy out of *** Nothing's left, but hollow mechanical ******* Stealing the rythmn from the music Sturdy as a beam I lay Unable to grasp at anything It's just noise Sweaty day, shivering nights-juxtaposed It's like living on Mercury In decomposition like a basket of rotten lemons Past conversations crush their weight against my open ribs No parent teacher or friend told me how all consuming the sensation would be... Dazed eyes staring through disheveled blinds, I was dropping rose buds off the second floor balcony in the night They hit the scratchy asphalt like a gentle meteor shower Monotonous nights replay the same phases That moon... A face splashing from gibbous to crescent Waning on my malady Always stirring like a steady torch
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56
I could stare at myself in the mirror for hours. It starts in my extremities. a chill creeps its way into my abdomen, and cements my joints. The bacteria residing in my intestines dine on my organs for supper, they blow up my stomach until I'm pregnant with air, my non-existent baby forcing thick liquid out every orifice. It tickles, when the flies visit my rotted skin. Their steps light and playful, turn sinister, and force their way into my open mouth to lay their eggs. I wait, as the larvae devour my brain tissue. When I have nothing left to give, I'll pull down my lower eyelid and let the maggots slide out.
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Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 10:17 AM UTC
SK98
Live Decomposition
I could stare at myself in the mirror for hours. It starts in my extremities. a chill creeps its way into my abdomen, and cements my joints. The bacteria residing in my intestines dine on my organs for supper, they blow up my stomach until I'm pregnant with air, my non-existent baby forcing thick liquid out every orifice. It tickles, when the flies visit my rotted skin. Their steps light and playful, turn sinister, and force their way into my open mouth to lay their eggs. I wait, as the larvae devour my brain tissue. When I have nothing left to give, I'll pull down my lower eyelid and let the maggots slide out.
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19
my bones hollow, old, and well used in life, my body is reduced to nothing,  literal bones and dust  broken down, thin skin on shaky bones, is what i have done to myself, or what they have done to me?  nothing but a skeleton walking,  i am. unable to digest anything, terrified by the guilt it brings, a skeleton is not an inedia by nature, it becomes one, reduced by society, starved by fashion magazines, patriarchy, and a culture breeding self discontent. my bones are hollowed out,  they have been for years, skeletal decomposition from the lack of nutrients provided in my life. by the lack of truth, and the abundance of lies, force fed everything that is "SKINNY". well on my way to becoming a product of society, already hollowed out at the bone. shallow passion, and missed meals, i am skeletal.
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
fawnee
SKELETAL
my bones hollow, old, and well used in life, my body is reduced to nothing,  literal bones and dust  broken down, thin skin on shaky bones, is what i have done to myself, or what they have done to me?  nothing but a skeleton walking,  i am. unable to digest anything, terrified by the guilt it brings, a skeleton is not an inedia by nature, it becomes one, reduced by society, starved by fashion magazines, patriarchy, and a culture breeding self discontent. my bones are hollowed out,  they have been for years, skeletal decomposition from the lack of nutrients provided in my life. by the lack of truth, and the abundance of lies, force fed everything that is "SKINNY". well on my way to becoming a product of society, already hollowed out at the bone. shallow passion, and missed meals, i am skeletal.
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24
A decomposition of carbon atoms To mother nature as we came Back to where life started from From Earths crust to the rain Remember that field of dandelions? Every tree once bare grew buds A group of us laid on our backs Our feet were stained with traces of mud We didn’t even need to talk We only needed to exist So one who travels up to heaven Will be silent knowing this A decomposition of carbon atoms A person we loved we lost His body cold, his hands lost touch Our spirits pay the cost For every tear we ever shed For every saddened glance For every dandelion in one field This life is our one chance There we lay in that same field This time the stars shined bright The dandelions have closed their buds They’ve gone home for the night by: Kara MacLean
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Nov 12, 2010
Nov 12, 2010 at 9:02 AM UTC
kara-maclean
Remember The Dandelions 9/2010
A decomposition of carbon atoms To mother nature as we came Back to where life started from From Earths crust to the rain Remember that field of dandelions? Every tree once bare grew buds A group of us laid on our backs Our feet were stained with traces of mud We didn’t even need to talk We only needed to exist So one who travels up to heaven Will be silent knowing this A decomposition of carbon atoms A person we loved we lost His body cold, his hands lost touch Our spirits pay the cost For every tear we ever shed For every saddened glance For every dandelion in one field This life is our one chance There we lay in that same field This time the stars shined bright The dandelions have closed their buds They’ve gone home for the night by: Kara MacLean
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