"disgustingness" poems - Hello Poetry

lights everywhere... flicker. up and down my street; all across the world. the bathroom light flickers as the delicate body that once was mine is burned. burned by the disgustingness that uprises from my throat. burned by the water from the too long showers i take no matter how hard i try to throw up and flush the pain, or how hard i try to scrub it off my skin with scorching hot water, it never leaves. the suffering never ends. my kitchen light flickers. as i eat my feelings. or as i attempt to starve myself. the fridge light flickers while i stare out at my backyard as if i was trapped in my house, and couldn’t go outside no mater how hard i tried. the hall light flickers. as i walk from room to room. i relate to you, hallway. you feel like you’re always being used, for closets, and to get from place to place. no one cares much about you, yet if you weren’t there they’d need you, want you back. only then do they care. the downstairs light doesn’t flicker. only if i’m down there. she thinks “what have i done wrong?” oh mother. if only you knew what ran through my head. the downstairs light doesn’t need to flicker, it has long been off. my bedroom light flickers. when i frown. or laugh. or cry. or smile. when i’m feeling down and when i’m high. it flickers while i sit on my floor, head up against my dresser, hands running through my hair and across my eyes, wiping away tears. i feel nothing except everything. do the lights ever just simply turn on? or will they just dim more and more until they give up?

0

May 24, 2018

May 24, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC

abc-_-123

flicker...

lights everywhere... flicker. up and down my street; all across the world. the bathroom light flickers as the delicate body that once was mine is burned. burned by the disgustingness that uprises from my throat. burned by the water from the too long showers i take no matter how hard i try to throw up and flush the pain, or how hard i try to scrub it off my skin with scorching hot water, it never leaves. the suffering never ends. my kitchen light flickers. as i eat my feelings. or as i attempt to starve myself. the fridge light flickers while i stare out at my backyard as if i was trapped in my house, and couldn’t go outside no mater how hard i tried. the hall light flickers. as i walk from room to room. i relate to you, hallway. you feel like you’re always being used, for closets, and to get from place to place. no one cares much about you, yet if you weren’t there they’d need you, want you back. only then do they care. the downstairs light doesn’t flicker. only if i’m down there. she thinks “what have i done wrong?” oh mother. if only you knew what ran through my head. the downstairs light doesn’t need to flicker, it has long been off. my bedroom light flickers. when i frown. or laugh. or cry. or smile. when i’m feeling down and when i’m high. it flickers while i sit on my floor, head up against my dresser, hands running through my hair and across my eyes, wiping away tears. i feel nothing except everything. do the lights ever just simply turn on? or will they just dim more and more until they give up?

37

I am the wrong of everything that makes my once here world long gone, the bitterness which haunts my life, the no victory no defeat but also no peace, the no love no hate but also no calm but never excitement. always silence. I am the terrible of whatsoever makes its way into it all, the disgustingness of solitude, the loneliness of thought. I am the reason for the something else, though it matters to no one to me, I am the ****** of the goodnight dear sleep well, the goneness of the now.

0

Aug 20, 2015

Aug 20, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC

superfluous

I am the wrong of everything

I am the wrong of everything that makes my once here world long gone, the bitterness which haunts my life, the no victory no defeat but also no peace, the no love no hate but also no calm but never excitement. always silence. I am the terrible of whatsoever makes its way into it all, the disgustingness of solitude, the loneliness of thought. I am the reason for the something else, though it matters to no one to me, I am the ****** of the goodnight dear sleep well, the goneness of the now.

14

My bitterness stems from the urge to hold onto things I can't control I'm very controlling A weakness But you can imagine the struggle You know how they say if you get chills someone walked on your grave? You weren't only so disrespectful as to walk on my grave You spit on it And my skin still crawled with pleasure for you It's like a sickness It would be a honor to wake with Amnesia I'd forget the way I let you push me around My vocabulary lacks the words to remotely make your disgustingness look ravishing And why would I? You're a piece of ****

0

Jan 6, 2015

Jan 6, 2015 at 10:02 AM UTC

poeticxsigh

9:56 AM

My bitterness stems from the urge to hold onto things I can't control I'm very controlling A weakness But you can imagine the struggle You know how they say if you get chills someone walked on your grave? You weren't only so disrespectful as to walk on my grave You spit on it And my skin still crawled with pleasure for you It's like a sickness It would be a honor to wake with Amnesia I'd forget the way I let you push me around My vocabulary lacks the words to remotely make your disgustingness look ravishing And why would I? You're a piece of ****

14

Sometimes I wish I were pretty enough to turn heads. Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to achieve anything in my life. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really cut out for marriage and motherhood. Sometimes I vow that I'm not going to eat at all for a long time or become bulimic so I can lose the disgustingness that is me. Then I forget and break my vow and it makes me appalled at myself. Sometimes I wish I had a better memory. Actually, I always do.

0

Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC

hannah-larson

Sometimes

Sometimes I wish I were pretty enough to turn heads. Sometimes I feel like I'm never going to achieve anything in my life. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really cut out for marriage and motherhood. Sometimes I vow that I'm not going to eat at all for a long time or become bulimic so I can lose the disgustingness that is me. Then I forget and break my vow and it makes me appalled at myself. Sometimes I wish I had a better memory. Actually, I always do.

5

My bitterness stems from the urge to hold onto things I can't control I'm very controlling A weakness But you can imagine the struggle You know how they say if you get chills someone walked on your grave? You weren't only so disrespectful as to walk on my grave You spit on it And my skin still crawled with pleasure for you It's like a sickness It would be a honor to wake with Amnesia I'd forget the way I let you push me around My vocabulary lacks the words to remotely make your disgustingness look ravishing And why would I?

0

Mar 23, 2015

Mar 23, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC

nolithando

let me tell you.

My bitterness stems from the urge to hold onto things I can't control I'm very controlling A weakness But you can imagine the struggle You know how they say if you get chills someone walked on your grave? You weren't only so disrespectful as to walk on my grave You spit on it And my skin still crawled with pleasure for you It's like a sickness It would be a honor to wake with Amnesia I'd forget the way I let you push me around My vocabulary lacks the words to remotely make your disgustingness look ravishing And why would I?

13