"destruct" poems
I am so imperfect
That I destruct myself
In loving you this much
While you destruct yourself
In loving her so bad
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC
the things you'll do after emotional abuse.
They try to love you, you run.
They try to get close to you, you push them away.
They try to break down your walls, you build them higher.
And when you realize, that you are in fact all alone..
after everything's said and done..
and that emotional abuse from the past shows his face again:
you begin to self-destruct.
Crying, sobbing,, you just want to be held
but to scared to be.
Trust issues and depression begins to define you.
You have no one to blame but yourself.
& you continue to spiral,
dying inside a little more every day
until you're in your dark room, all alone once again,
and that razor blade
pretends to be your friend.
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
i spoke to
a stranger
with a
hair-trigger
self destruct
button that
they wanted
to push:
and god,
how i wanted
to help-
but when
it came time
for me
to leave,
i left.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Glass ticking like cold plastic
My fingers thrum hopelessly in the hopes of drumming up a solution to a problem with an issue of loss.
This dilemma has found me at the end of my rope and I fear the knots in my stomach are only getting tighter as I squeeze you closer to me now.
Why can't I help me?
I won't let you do it for me.
But must I force feed you the truth?
I'm not hungry for this day any more. Fighting this sickness, I choke back another spoonful of medicine...
--And what am I supposed to do now then?!
Frustration consumes me.
I am bile. The emptiness inside, that fills me with rot.
I'm hollow!!
Somebody save me from myself! I want to self-destruct and not be okay anymore.
I want to fly a Subaru into the sun on fire.
*I'm just so ******
Just leave me behind and maybe I can decompose into something useful and that actually wants to be here and maybe after that I can finally float away from here...
Wouldn't that be okay?
Why should I have to stay.
I never belonged here any way.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 11:16 AM UTC
Go choke on your delusional idea of love. No does not mean “change my mind” No does not mean liquor me up, get me good and drunk till I can no longer verbally reject you. My slurs of terror and anguish as I try to shove you off of me. Did it make you feel good? Did you feel like a real man- To take what was mine. Did it boost your ego? You had no right to sneak into my bedroom and steal my girlhood. I was 13. Chaos seeped into what was a serene life. The torturous and endless cycle continued for 3 god **** years. What man is so weak? So weak that he has to take what he feels he’s entitled to, from a little girl. I can never get back what you stole from me. They couldn’t find any evidence to prove the assault even happened, but the trauma can never be erased from my mind. The skin replaces itself every 7 to 15 years, so scientifically speaking your hand prints are still eminent on my skin. This flesh and bone is no longer mine. That home I took my first steps in, was no longer mine from the moment you creeped in. But you do not own me. I can still recall the first time I frantically searched for a sharp object in all the clutter, just trying to make myself distasteful to you. But you ignored the blood dripping from my thighs, dismissed the warning signs as if you were colorblind. Nothing could stop your calloused hands and feeble mind. Years later, your pressure still stands heavy on my heart. I labeled myself as damaged goods. But I am a ******* work of art. And I can’t undo what you did but I can use my voice to speak on the pain you’ve caused me. To raise awareness for those still suffering. You did not stunt my growth because I am in full bloom. I will not let you define a single part of me. I will grow as you regress. As you destruct everything you come in contact with. I will touch people and I will make jaws drop. I will be someone. Just watch me.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Dear Girl,
I really really love you, yes I do.
Not like it used to be, I'm no longer "in love",
It's something different, that I'd never felt before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not "in love" like I used to be, I'm something else,
It's so strange, and I've never felt it before,
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
I really really mean it, yes I do.
Not like I used to be, I've changed a whole lot,
It's different, my heart doesn't want "in love",
But I really really love you,
Dear Girl.
Dear Girl,
This poem was a long time coming,
But I wrote the story when I didn't know how to be me,
Now wrote the poem when I grew some brains,
But I always really loved you,
Dear.
Sweet Girl,
You didn't deserve those late nights,
Where I killed your insides, when I made you cry and cry and cry,
They made you love me less, they made you numb, and you fell out of love,
But I really really loved you,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I've never been anything you deserve,
You had to pick me up off the floor, and it was more than you needed,
You pieced me together, but the person before you, she sabotaged me,
I had a destruct button you couldn't see,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Neither of us saw it,
We both thought I'd healed, from the awful things that happened to me,
You didn't get to see, but the person you were, you stayed with me,
When I became a nuclear disaster,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I try not to blame,
But you'll never understand how your mother was the Tsunami and Earthquake, and I was Fukushima,
We both didn't see it, but I was a nuclear plant, and meltdown waiting to happen,
The damage was too great, that June,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
I never understood,
Even my own actions, because I loved you from the start, and I don't know what happened to me,
But in times before you, people built me, and you just became the new plant operator,
You didn't know I was so unsafe,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
Nuclear plants are rather safe,
They just can't handle Tsunamis and Earthquakes, because they're made of materials that crack,
Under that kind of stress, I didn't just crack, I crumbled, I began melting down,
But you didn't know and I'm sorry,
Sweet Girl.
Sweet Girl,
You've been through a lot,
The Tsunami was hard, but you didn't know about the radiation, that it would destroy you,
You were mutated by the horrible conditions you had to live through,
But you didn't know and I'm so very sorry,
Sweet Girl.
My love,
You didn't know it,
But we were both reactors waiting to blow, disasters waiting to happen, to cause destruction,
We mutated each other until we didn't even know who we were,
I'm so very sorry, so so sorry,
My love.
Poor Girl,
I really really try today, yes I do.
Not like I used to try, but now I try to be strong, and not a nuclear reactor but more like carbon fiber,
But carbon fiber is brittle, since you killed me inside,
But I forever love you,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You've cleared your rubble,
Growing to be the most amazing and beautiful of skyscrapers, you're an inspiration for the world, you know,
You're so much different, standing taller than you'll ever know,
But skyscrapers can fall too,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You make yourself content,
Being alone, you tell yourself that alone doesn't mean lonely,
That you find peace in the solitude,
But solitude is an empty thing,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
We can pick each other up,
You don't even know, it's not the same kind of picking up that we tried before,
This picking up can only go up,
Because we don't even care to feel sad anymore,
Poor Girl.
Poor Girl,
You don't even know, how much I want to kiss you,
But it's different than before, it's more like the kisses mothers give to children,
When their children are crying, the kind of kisses that make great statements and tell stories,
The stories only kisses can give,
My girl.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:26 PM UTC
sometimes i feel as though
my mind was set
to self destruct,
and i just cant seem
to find the switch
to make it stop.
maybe that's because
it's buried beneath
the very thoughts
that set it off.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
my sadness knows no love
my sadness knows no fear
my sadness knows no pain
my sadness knows no end
my sadness knows no happy endings
my sadness knows no sleep
my sadness knows lies
my sadness knows death
my sadness knows scars
my sadness knows eulogies
my sadness knows 2am voices
my sadness knows 4am shadows
my sadness - knows how to hit every Self-Destruct button and watch me disintegrate into a million and one pieces, and then hits the buttons again
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
I have been invisible before.
My thoughts and justifications were transparent.
All anyone could see were my actions;
the way I failed and stumbled,
and ran head first into doors that lead me down path after path of distraction.
At least they seemed like distractions,
oh, but they become my destruction.
I spent my time quietly imploding,
only to change my mind last minute,
and suddenly explode.
I changed my mind,
but my body stayed stock still.
I stood in front of the judges
and while my tongue was granite,
the urge to run from the podium had never been greater.
I wished to be invisible.
I wished to go to a dark corner of the room and finish my implosion.
Out of sight,
where I could hide and self destruct without a sound.
And then if,
or when,
I picked up the shrapnel,
I could re-join everyone on stage at graduation.
I could hold my head high
and with a smile,
pretend no one saw me crumble.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
You were born in the cold black heart of the Cold War, under the fist of
Eisenhower, under the satellite eye of Mother Russia—1960 America.
Chinese Year of the Rat. U-2 Pilot Gary Powers forgot to **** himself.
Space Race Baby looking up at stars she does not comprehend—
the world is big, the sky is bigger—Shhhhhhhhhhh: huddle under your desk in case a big, black, bomb falls down and burns you so bad you feel nothing but cold
cold cold;
huddle inside yourself in case your plane is shot down over Soviet soil
and everything turns to red, turns to blood, turns to your fingers shaking and your eyes stinging, and you think about that time when your mother told you about the Year of the Rat being associated with white,
with the Chinese color of death. You think: This is it. There is where it ends,
but this is not it; this is not the end. You will die in a hospital bed
in 49 years, so just give it some time, alright?
Khrushchev and Eisenhower can play Tug-of-War and
Vietnam can burn in the meantime.
Mother, when you were born you could not breathe. Mother,
when you died it was because you could not breathe. Mother,
when you are not here I think of Gary Powers not having time to press “Self-Destruct,” of the Year of the Rat
choking to death on
Lily of the Valley,
of learning how to talk to the 58,286 dead Vietnam War soldiers. I want to
know what it is like to look up at the sky and fear a missile strike smack in
the middle of winter. I want to know how cold the Cold War felt to you in
the Chinese Year of the Rat, and what he felt when U-2 Pilot Gary Powers
fell like
Lucifer
into the arms
of Mother Russia.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
It comes when you don't expect it.''
Everyone has at least once in a lifetime a breakthrough.
When that happens they are two more ways that will seek and find you for sure, to make you choose just one of them.
Keeping up your breakthrough,
or Self-destruct it are these two ways to choose from.
The Self-destructive way will always appear glimmery and seem promising for more breakthroughs.
But there only can be one space for the real breakthrough in lifetime you can hold on to.
Like all veins lead to the heart.
Like each individual plant that leads to its root.
Like all fallen leaves with only one journey's end.
To add one more breakthrough to the one you already have,
can lead you right to self-destruction.
So be aware and focused for your next breakthrough cause they won't be many.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 11:07 AM UTC
Robot
Tincan man.
Input, circuit, overdrive.
Shadow of the future and past.
Movement hidden, you are not alive.
Programs still running fast.
What else can you do?
Wake up by morning not able to read the news.
Passing a breeze God gave to you.
Barely feeling the I love you's.
Your data has been set to self destruct.
Walking around all confused.
While your memory is set on stuck.
A heart not made to rust.
Hanging laundry out in the rain.
Lazy technician you can not trust.
Look what hes made out of you.
Ready to blow your ******
Compute- abort- system to self destroy.
Restoring the joy ****** out of you.
Input: input: information .
Wipe out the old, store in new.
Delete all files to recycle bin.
System reboot to life again.
With a new program that reads:
Feeling like a human once again.
(This robot is on)
.(self shut down!)
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
My conscience is loud
yet my voice never comes,
It's disarming what dependency can do, altering your character,
until you are simply a character,
weaving falsities into strands of fools gold, until you're living in an armor
of the emperors new clothes.
I swore to myself,
that I would never again be this person, the one with my finger
on the self destruct button,
but sliding down the hill
comes much easier than climbing.
And at the bottom,
numbness awaits me,
making me fearless.
I feel the cold wash over me,
goosebumps all throughout my being,
as the waves begin to rise.
She covers me,
salty yet sweet,
and everything makes sense.
The meaning of life in a pretty peach casing.
I am Invincible.
I am Oblivious.
She peaks and soon crashes,
repeatedly against me,
making me feel like the world could end and I wouldn't even think to care.
But what at first seemed exhilarating, wears on me to no end,
the buildup and constant let down.
She's lost her novelty,
and with that,
the numbness fades.
Sobering up for long enough to realize,
I am the definition of insanity.
Inviting you back in so often,
I no longer have defenses against you.
You snuck into my priorities without me ever noticing.
Like that song you hate so much but can't help to sing.
Will I ever get rid of your tune in my head?
Will I ever be able to say no when you call?
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 8:51 AM UTC
WE'VE KILLED IT.
We’ve killed Humanity.
And don’t remember
What it used to be.
We’re surrounded by fights
And nuclear weapons
We’ve killed it.
We’ve killed Peace.
We’ve turned into murderers
Unknowingly, unwillingly,
But now the habit just won’t
Leave.
It’s become habit to
Exploit
It’s become nature to
Destroy.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 11:40 AM UTC
Blessed I’ve been with God.
But I’m stuck in the winds.
How much for your soul?
Come pay for your sins.
Nowadays I can’t trust.
It seems so hard to win.
I don’t want to lose myself, amongst these mortal men.
Been in the streets fighting temptations.
Running from my problems and complications.
I’m so moody now that I’m off my medications.
But now I’m focused with more dedication.
Stuck within my flaws.
Smoking, have no wind.
Summers over, now it’s cold.
I've lost so many friends.
Nowadays I can’t trust.
And I cannot pretend.
If I ever lose my health, I’ll self destruct again.
Been in the streets fighting temptations.
Running from my problems and complications.
I’m so moody now that I’m off my medications.
But now I’m focused with anticipations and dedications.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 12:48 AM UTC
Church
A place we call sacred
Though it is far from holy
Plagued by the lying,
Fake, judgmental, deceptive, wannabe,
Overly religious, ignorant, bigot, crazy,
Hypocritical curse upon society known
As Christian
A place said to be filled with love
So sadly love is not the first thing seen
Rather, we feel the ever-watching eye
Looking down because our clothes don’t
Seem as clean, our shoes are not free
From dust, our scars, they bring disgust
But not all who walk these golden
Streets of Christianity bring hate
Some do not raise their head so high
These few who know love
This minority who is actually true
They are the church
Even though these phony haters
Infiltrate the lovers’ ranks
They are not Christian
They are not the church
They’re nothing but arrogant imposters
And close-minded fools
A tree must bear fruit to be a fruit tree
Likewise a Christian must bring forth
Faith and hope and love
They must bear their fruit
Otherwise these Christians
Are not so Christian after all
So remember, the church is this group of
People who love, not the building
Filled who those who destruct
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
words self-calibrate to match my emotion
all my wires seem intact in the gas lamp glow
no one understands the strength of a potion
until they pour it inside you and they watch you blow
but this is different I cannot quite describe it
I move like a muse with the corset undone
I sense how the power of thunder is striking
and the steam in my pipes pushing up pushing down
I sit on the edge of this meaningful feeling
and everything's trembling inside and out
like a vessel afloat I'm breaking your ceiling
and reach for you, master, my creature of doubt.
we are two always but one feels the other
the wires are tangled we're both flesh and steel
your arms hold me tight your fingers go further
my eyes melting metal, your tears almost real
now give me a name and teach me your methods
unscrew all the bolts use your lips show me how
this poem will self-destruct in 5 seconds
you may countdown this stanza or you may run.
~NOW!~
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 6:35 AM UTC
they are old friends of mine
self doubt, self hatred, self destruction
their black gaping eyes
look at me knowingly
their bodies vibrate and pulse like anxiety
blood pours from their mouths when they speak
they whisper quietly that I'll never be good enough
I can't make myself happy, they remind me
how could I ever make anyone else happy?
they smile and show sets of teeth between red
entering uninvited, late at night
screaming obscenities and mocking me
demanding my time and energy
reminding me of all my shortcomings and failures
moments in my life that I was not enough (or too much)
and every moment coming, with premonition
I seat them into my home
though my consent has never been a requirement
they drip and ooze into the carpet
leaving thickened black sludge
and back handed compliments
identifying my worth based on shouldn'ts and didn'ts
welcome, I tell them
though I don't want them here
stay as long as you need to
I barely mouth the sounds of a silent cry
they expand and fill the room
until I can no longer breathe and they crush me
underneath their weight, and remind me I did this
to myself -- I welcomed them in, after all
I created them, I brought them here, and they are
mine
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 5:27 PM UTC
Why do we self destruct,
When we're so close to our goals.
Some find it hard to interpret,
Why others seem to know.
We can be our worst enemy,
Our souls seem
filled with doubt.
We must continue on our journey,
It's what Life's all about.
Conquering all our emotions,
Conquering all our fears.
Sometimes for a brief moment,
While other times it takes many years.
Never giving up,
Always pushing forward.
Never losing hope.
Never being cornered.
Our journey will be long.
So always stay true to our self.
Never giving up on hope,
BY placing
our struggles upon a shelf.
Always keep pushing forward
No matter
how hard it gets.
And keep on living life,
With love and no regrets.
Live
Love
Hope
Written by
Richard B Shick
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
I love the wind’s howling.
The breath of God surrounds me.
It’s angry and loud.
It says
Destroy yourselves!
and we do.
Well we do a bit,
but we’re so obsessed with living.
What the hell for?
******* parasites.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
“What can a poem do?”
—————————-
***”A poem
is a not a tourniquet
when you’re bleeding.
It’s not water when you’re thirsty
or food when you’re hungry.
A poem can’t protect you from an airstrike,
or from abduction, or from hate.
It’s hard to write when our words feel
like they’re not enough—they can’t do
the real, tangible work of saving lives,
or making people safer.”***
(see (1) Maggie Smith)
<~>
as is my wont,
I write,
as is my Natted~inhabited,
retiring to the local watering holes of
Cerebrum & Cerebellum,
them regular haunts,
where all requests are mailed, processed, satisfied & marked;
‘return & render to the sender, who’s on a cerebral ******
and that request?
‘give me the words’ (2)
those ‘to do’ words, floaters, direct to top of list,
those ‘can do’ words, that can effect the affect,
spare the despair, realize the fungible, concretize cures,
soften hard waters, giving a worsening worn life fabric a
curated baby blanket feel, a 4-ply human tissue of
‘words that tell me everything’ (2)
salve solution verbs that bounty-wipe spills in entirety,
vacuum up spillage spoiling of 17 days of terrible nouns,
uncovered-unknown rages caused by inflicting prepositions
released a hatred rising,
safety rebury it deeper, drug & destruct the sleeper agents,
and let me start over again with
‘telling me everything by saying nothing’ (2)
the pausal silence, the quieted spaces tween the heartbeats,
where ‘reflection,’
the noun,
and its world of alternations,
reflection,
the noun,
look inwards, but shining outward,
this, this!
is where the poem goes to do!
enervating & arresting
its contradictory powers
rock you into wild docility,
possessive and submissive,
contradictory interferences,
smoothing the roughness,
closing the gaps it opens,
healing the caused truthful cuts,
with words that tell you
everything and nothing,
open the holes, filling the gaps,
that is what a
poem do,
in and by
the manner it is spoken…
<~>
“Sometimes a poem is the stone you carry in your pocket—the one you rub when you’re worried. Let’s fill our pockets with poems.”
(see (1) Maggie Smith)
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 10:10 PM UTC
he's the one that knows everything that is you and he is like half [sunny]days spent inside because he burned easily and you didn't like the feel of the medicine between your fingers when you rubbed it on his skin.
You are tired and shaky as you lie next to him on a bed filled with [half]forgotten ghosts and almost[remembered] stories about when he used to want to stay up late like little kids and just [talk]
He is a deformity forgotten because it doesn't [really] matter that he can't hold you the way you want him to after a long day spent taking care of him. {it doesn't really matter} but it does.
You are almost done with all of this and you wish you could give up, but obligation won't let you leave him all [alone] with himself because you know it scares him more than anything to be without someone.
He is {never knowing what he is} thinking when you stare at him from across the room because he refuses to talk about what is really bothering him and that [bothersyou] but you don't know why. {Because he's supposed to trust you with his weaknesses}
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 3:05 AM UTC
rainbow-blooded life forms be ware.
we, who season the earth.
we, the cultivators of spices -ginger, clove, cinnamon, saffron.
they, who currycomb the earth.
they, who purify, sanitize, sterilize, absolve
destruct
we, the corrupt.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
Whenever I do
What they suggest in therapy
I ***** my friends over.
They say
Do something for yourself for once
But whenever I try
I am being selfish
In someone else's eyes.
And so
I allow myself to crumble
To self-destruct
But as long as I don't disappoint anyone
I feel just fine.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
How peculiar it is,
all that we keep alive with our thoughts.
I wonder,
whether it is as photosynthesis is to the plant
and a flower is yet to bloom,
or whether our faces will become blue
in the name of fallacy.
Think wisely.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC