"horrifically" poems
she chooses to remain beautiful,
although life has scarred her so horrifically inside...
...a phenomenal woman she is ❤
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
I think that maybe I take breakups
And half-breakups
And “I think we should just stay friends”
And “I’m moving across the country!”
And “Let’s just pretend it never happened…”
And “Sorry, I’m already doing something else that night”
so horrifically,
and yet so horrifically well,
Because life in my head
Is constantly romancing
And then breaking up
With everyone.
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 1:37 AM UTC
“every time i feel my stomach convulse it’s a new wave of tears
take vitamins, she says
you should just eat, she says
you got skinnier, another says
“eat! eat! haven’t you been eating!? and this bandaid! quit cutting yourself, kalena”
and for a moment i think it’s truth
i think it’s honest
i shout “i do eat! they’re just cat scratches”
and if she would have lifted up that bandaid
she would have learned it was honest
it was truth
but it was melted away flesh that she would have found, not torn
but melted
and in the highlight of this moment i see all of my dreams come true
finally, someone notices!
finally, someone cares!
but yet she’s willing to stop eating. to make sure that i do.
my little thing. an entire 98 pounds, not by choice.
so unhealthy, so sick. all the time. so **** tired.
she would stop eating for me.
and though it doesn’t help, the thought is comforting. it should be disturbing.
it is. in the way that if she stopped eating…
she would lose weight.
and then i would fight harder and harder until my rib bones were sticking out so far they were larger than my chest.
emaciated.
bony fingers that boys don’t want to hold and girls don’t want to kiss.
hair that slides out with the slightest tug.
no one wants that.
except me, of course.
i want that.
i want to weigh 85 pounds.
i want to die.
i want to be so high on the emptiness that i die.
i faint. and they cannot wake me up.
eternal sleep. forever peace. and the best part of all?
I would be horrifically tiny in even the smallest coffin. “
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
The world has moved on and I am fixated on one **** detail. A blank stare that lasted maybe two seconds before he carried on with his work. The look was indescribable because the expression was void of emotion. This is incredibly ridiculous, but I am so horrifically bothered by it. That **** expression. This **** minor occurrence has somehow managed to ruin my day. But here's the thing - this is routine for me. I know myself too well. I will be incredibly self-conscious from now on in that space. So many things go past that man, but my stupid digressions didn't. I am a victim of over-analysis. I will patiently wait for the day my memory will finally let this go.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
In the end,
Who tells me who I am?
he tells me that it's him,
and she tells me that it's her.
And this entitlement is surely not universal.
We must decide ourselves.
Horrifically.
But how can I possibly be blind to all of this noise?
When the streets are filled with final blueprints
Of how my life will play out?
For all of us
The words placed upon us slither around our arteries
And up to our brains.
They insert venom into the soul gleefully.
And the poison is ubiquitous.
It's terribly malicious.
Because we must decide.
Who speaks fact
and who fiction.
In the end,
I must decide who I am.
I must dig into my heart with a rusty shovel and push.
My only wish
is that I don't hate what emerges from this abyss.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 1:02 AM UTC
I dislike writing about happy things. I also dislike sad things. I like writing me things. I dislike cliche poems and stories. Hello, I'm me. Unknown. Unheard of. I tell tales. Just some ******* tales. The brain is the scariest part of me. Well it scares all of us, doesn't it? I'm horrifically depressed. I'll say it now. I guess you could say I am cliche. My life consists of many people being ups and many friends being downs. I quit drugs. I quit *** I quit cigarettes too.
It makes me want a cigarette.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
outside ourselves:
in the few, brief moments,
staying inside the outer edge
of this webbing we've woven
for the the sake of this game
that's created in itself.
for the spider,
as he calms the tension
across his line
as the wind blows,
swaying him sideways.
driven practically by survival
hopeless in a world made by others
he's getting caught-up in his own web;
he's never seen,
but not seeing through just his lenses
that cover the top of his head.
over, calmed now,
the tension's applied tenderly.
the treacherous passing of past
passer-bys past his masterwork,
the unluck ones
only eaten, digested,
and then forgotten.
horrifically in complete sync
with the idealism
that had dulled
every subjective idea he'd had,
the spider found what he'd needed;
some calming peace and serenity.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Nothing has ever felt the way you do.
Your skin, your smile, the loss of color in your
cheeks, the redness around those beautiful,
dark lashes after you've cried.
The way you make my mind drop all of its
useless content at the sight of your eyes.
The perfect beat of your heart when I lay my head on your chest, your scent.
Your limp skinny fingers, they're more than just flesh,
and bones. They're more than just you, and us.
Your mind and the way it works.
Your lips, your back, your legs, your soul.
I'm so in love with it all.
When I hold you, I feel as if I am lost in a dream,
Nothing feels more unrealistic than you.
Nothing feels worse than the pain, the worry,
the sadness that crawls slow and horrifically,
into my mind, my body, my soul when you hurt.
I wish I could carry it all away from you.
You are the last rose petal, and the saddest sun set.
And goodbyes with you, and 'see you laters'
are more than just phrases to me.
They're gashes, they're ghosts, they are leeches
that **** out your blood, and fire that burns.
And yes, it pains me to watch you go.
'Cause each step, and each mile you take, my heart
goes with you.
And your soul is more than just another metaphor.
Like all of them have been before.
Because nothing can ever, has ever, will ever
compare to you.
k.y
© 2015 karina y
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:05 PM UTC
Dear peer of mine,
Thank you for your shouting that interrupted the silence of my walk home.
I'll be sure to mend the seams you've broken.
Dear imbecilic ***
Thank you for making my instinctual sense of alarm spike with your gibberish yells.
I'll be sure to fight or flight your obvious nightmare.
Dear egotist,
Thank you for the several minutes of self doubt you caused me when you shouted horrifically in my direction.
I'll be sure to note your superficial standards and, uh, not give a ****
Dear secret admirer,
Thank you! I'm glad to make you just sooo nervous that you feel you just can't come up with the words to express your emotions nor can you approach me in an appropriate manner.
I'll be sure to keep on doing my own thing and you can observe<quietly> if you want.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
There is something horrifically poetic
about lying beside him after the war.
Silent, the thick air surrounds us in a suffocating haze.
Not touching, I feel him breathing.
I feel him thinking.
We don't dare speak, as nothing more can be said.
Still in love, we must begin again
Together in separate rooms.
I hear him pacing there.
He comes back and settles behind me
And I feel him breathing on my neck.
A force that sustains him, like I never will.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
In an inter-galactic ice cream van he arrived
and whizzed me away to countless nether-space lands -
through a universe of broken jigsaw pieces,
where rich diamanté flowers grew in shape-shifting sands.
He took me up the scarlet mountains
of the cotton candy clouds -
we both stood upon the smouldering brink of Hell
and gazed upon the ****** souls and tortuous shrouds.
He shown me light
wherein it seemed only eternal darkness prevailed,
he cracked the Astro-Riddler's code, and what
the aliens contempt language entailed,
with blistering fury
he spat in the pitiless face of greed -
with an almighty FLASH! And a rip-roaring DASH!
He travelled back to when God first planted mankind's seed.
He witnessed the future of the human race
fall horrifically out of place as the cunning serpent tempted Eve;
once he even stood before his coming demise
just to witness what the dead perceive.
O' those star-studded journeys were amazing
infinite wonders and simple love he exhaled,
but the most important thing he ever shown me,
was to never give up no matter how often I failed.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
The way that old dial telephones look & feel.The questions that need no answers. Feeling down, down & out, upside down & inside out,upside in & downside out on the pavement at 5am. Waking up in unknown beds & crawling down drain pipes. Getting lost in a place you have lived your whole life.Being in the woods simply to be in the woods. Drinking coffee even though you hate the taste. Never telling a stranger the truth. Living under a false name. Drinking yourself to death in the dark lonely-crowded corners of **** stained wood floor warehouse floors. Feeling solid-sterling-gold for feeling so terribly horrifically half-corpse-like the only way you can really feel is completely statuesquely angelically magnificent and the only way is down(you really have no idea how far I fell that morning) , Only going out when it rains. Only going out in the dark. Staying up all night dreaming and sleeping all day. Remembering to forget, forgetting to remember to remember to be forgetful. Understanding that you and no one else understands nothing but eat-drink-sleep-fuck-death. Smoking until your tongue bleeds and your eyes burn like that fire in the sky in the fearful month of June. Wishing you knew how to tie a noose & writing ”suicide” on your calender on a day you have no planned engagements. Shooting to the moon & back in the bee-bop-bo-bo-batter-batter-chitter-chatter like jazz on the neon streets of the earths mother. Crawling in to a stone cold bed after walking for six days & feeling bored & lonely again in ten minutes. Running out of ideas and stopping to write, running out of ideas & stopping to ramble, slowing down, slowing down, slowing dow….
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 12:54 PM UTC
What peace it seemed, in the orange sun on this day
the colour that of jasper sunsets
yet it was 2:52pm
and I could think of nothing
but you
as the sand blew from the Sahara
the aftermath, the eye of that hurricane,
hazing in it’s most humid saffron
Isn’t chaos such a horrifically beautiful concept?
perhaps only that.
Filled with rage, rage that tastes like raw Astrid copper
copper so heavy that turned the sun
the sun that lit up my moon
And turned my chaos, to peace
For you could stop hurricanes
my serenity,
my wonder,
my love.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
F
E
A
R
is its own phobia.
I am afraid of
F
E
A
R
because it makes my heart
feel like it will explode.
It sends tremors through my body
that seem horrifically devastating.
The aftershock
is much worse.
I vibrate
I want to
Cry
Scream
Curl up
into a ball
Just disappear
Be no more
F
E
A
R
is my enemy.
I must defeat it
or die trying
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
Everything on this gelid morning speaks only dead languages.
Change your mind. Consider it a beguilingly blank canvas.
Slather it with the random pigments of your imagination.
Go for a stroll and practice random acts of sadistic charity.
Inhale the exquisite frondescence of naked branches.
Focus your neurons on everything you have forgotten.
********** incessantly to Mozart's Requiem. Honor his memory.
Unleash your nukes. Annihilate Canada. Destroy winter for good.
Make your lover a garland of cassowary feathers. Impress her.
Concentrate on growing horrifically profuse ***** hair.
Study the nonexistent texts of forgotten Uzbecki ascetics.
Raise fearsome armies of rabid Chinese lawn gnomes. Attack.
Try to knit String Theory while contemplating theoretical macramé.
Drink cider vinegar to defuse the carcinogenic dangers of politics.
Attempt to complete a peace treaty with gravity. Concede nothing.
Build a launch pad. Hurl rusting Ramblers into low earth orbit.
Collect ingredients. Home brew ****** absinthe and aphrodisiacs.
Test drive a luxury submarine in your neighbor's swimming pool.
Smash the endless contemporary Conga Line of Dumb. Think about it.
Surrender to uncommon sense for a change. Avoid the ordinary.
Give peace a chance. Endless war has left it lonely and depressed.
Admit that everyone is well and truly ****** Relax. Breathe.
Proclaim the advent of the poetry of the apocalypse,
but take care not to write any of it down yet. Go slowly.
Tomorrow is another day to be filled. Keep some options open.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
Ever wonder
What happens
When
A demon loves an angel?
They long to be
Next to them
Staying safe
Calm
Wishing and hoping
Their chaotic nature
Would subside
They feel like pawns
In a big chess match
Between good and evil
They cling to each other
Hoping for an end
Where they can be happy
But the cycle horrifically
Continues
A demon wins
An angel dies
And the demon cries
For evil won this round
So where
Does this game leave us
We are seen as a prize
Some to good
Some to bad
But one thing for sure
We arnt the only ones
Who suffer this fate
This is what happens
When Demons Love Angels.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 12:20 AM UTC
you laughed in my face
and blamed ME
for your problems
and i took it
and i tried
and i CRIED
and i brought the olive branch
to every family gathering
and i kept the tea
from ******* spilling
and i was never enough
and now
i see
and oh
i hate you
and your lies
and i burned the ******* olive branch
and i upset the family tea
and **** you
i am enough
you vile, insensitive
horrifically, detestable
gremlin
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 10:08 PM UTC
Day out and day in
She moves in unimaginable ways
Through thick and through thin
Horrifically sweet sounds seem to always play
As she makes her way
As she makes her way
To die alone and out of sight
Seems a fitting end
To go out with not a flicker or a bite
Seems just around the bend
With walls keen to swiftly close in
And windows prone to paint themselves dark
The only way through fire is to sin
As all the water's been sprayed through a hole from a pin
May 12, 2012
May 12, 2012 at 9:29 PM UTC
Trigger Warning
Dear J***
By Victoria Phillips.
You and I destined for eternity,
Someday ending in a family or so you lied to me.
You always said my eyes were the reason the stars shone so bright.
You said I was that gleam of everlasting delight.
You always said I was beautiful, sweet and true,
You always said "how do I deserve you"
You were the one I loved so true.
My heart, life and soul, I gave to you.
Like one thousand daggers to the heart you broke me,
On that awful day, a nightmare, a never ending travesty.
You reached up deep, into my soul so untouched and true.
And as I cried horrifically, I saw the REAL you.
I said NO, STOP, I'm scared… please.. I'm scared…
you Ignored me and TEARED,
Right through until blood drew.
Somehow, I got away from you,
You finished yourself as I cried. You watched me cry.
That was the day, a young girl did die.
BUT, I hope that you rot in hell.
I hope that you sleep in a corpses shell.
I hope that you remember why,
Your first brutal love sentenced you to die.
I hope that when you awake and scream,
That it's my face that haunts your dream.
I hope that you cannot breath,
Because, I hope everyone knows what’s up your sleeve.
I wish in my heart and soul,
That everyone could see what you heartlessly stole.
From me you took everything.
And Now I cry for all that I have regrettably seen.
So here, YOU, who tore me apart,
I hope that, you know You have no heart.
I hope that all see you
For all that you TRULY are the monstrous things you do.
So as you rot in my hypothetical hell,
I do not wish to hear you yell,
Nothing, not even Your pain,
Could ever persuade me to stop the rain.
I know you think it’s my entire fault.
But I am the one who begged you to stop.
I am the one, who cried when you watched,
I am the one who you have contorted into an illicit braid.
Yet, I am not afraid.
You broke a child so disgustingly,
Just a young girl who loved you innocently
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC
it's a rush
a waterfall
a downpour
a high
a trance
a state
a flood
a thunderstorm
a tsunami
a crashing wave
a shot of etquila
a head on collision
an epiphany
an overflow
a push
a flow of dopamine
a surge of adrenaline
a stream of serotonin
a swell
an outpour
a cascade
a discharge
a force
an avalanche
a rapid
a torrent
a fountain
a current
a deluge
an inundation
a niagara.
its all of these things.
to make one feel
the sensation of what
feels like kssing
-but what is not lips-
against my skin.
the sensation of what
it's luring edge
gives off.
it's all of these things,
that i have horrifically grown to love.
its the kiss of death.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 7:49 PM UTC
Slowly the space makes me quiver
The moment i wake up, i descend
I bestow rust upon words i could remember
Scrutinize titters, like they've done the impossible
Tape covering my eyes
A spoon to feed me lies
I try and try, so futile
I try and try, i negate
Eleven passages, heart horrifically corroded
Sat with me with my dinner
Ignorant to light, everyone seems benighted
Yet you glimmer
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
There is, or perhaps was, always,
And forever, quite invariably,
Yet inconsistently, as if sporadically
A thought that I once won over.
Or did I get one over in a thought?
The idea of greatness, un-sought
Never dirtied by the eyes of those
Who want only, horrifically,
Most terribly, quite incomparably,
My inner most
A ponderous place, that I abhor
Fleeing ever quicker,
On feet made of lead.
Perhaps just one look back?
They'll never know,
Until my salt-pillar body they find
In later days.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
seven years old: the first time i felt the onslaught
of crippling sadness, inexplicable & heavier on my heart
than any childhood misfortunes had readied me for. small body shaking,
pulse racing, convulsing with tears, i collapsed sobbing
into my mother’s lap. she stroked my hair,
touched the wetness on my cheeks, asked
what i could possibly be so upset about?
i didn’t have an answer.
twelve years old i am sitting on my carpet playing with razors,
delighting in the heady rush of breaking skin & blood.
never before have i committed such deliberate sins
upon my body, knowing that acting out
virulent self-hatred
was not the way to deal
but this is the beginning of everything
that follows in its wake.
i am dousing my weeping wounds in rubbing alcohol
because it hurts me more.
fifteen years old, skipping breakfast,
tossing school lunches in the trash,
begging off dinner because i’m sick/my stomach hurts/
i don’t feel like eating/please don’t make me/
just leave me alone/
just leave me the **** alone.
learning to subsist on nothing,
taking the plunge down the rabbit hole,
headfirst,
just to see how far
it goes.
seventeen, rock bottom. eighty-nine pounds,
a haphazardly placed collection of scars,
i cry every morning & night. i am horrifically in love
& i’m killing him. no amount of apologies can make up
for what i’ve done.
eighteen, the summer turns into a nightmare.
i begin to forget things. like how it used to be okay sometimes.
there are pills sleeping beneath my mattress again.
i contemplate killing myself every day,
decide i’m not worth the effort.
far more punishing to exist half-human.
far better to wreck myself beyond redemption.
look at me now, wearing a smile
that doesn’t quite fit my face. i can pretend to be okay
most of the time, but my head,
my head is a warzone of agony,
high on anxiety, low on dopamine,
struggling to get by doesn’t begin to describe my days.
this is how i am &
i don’t know how to survive this.
i don’t know if i can live with myself.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
It is always
the one next to you
the one on the left
the one on the right
the buddy
the brother
the man
who you may love
or never know
but will give your life
to save
in horrifically pure
survival's fight
not for god
not for country
not for way of life
but for the one
on the left
and the one
on the right
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
So while you wait in my head in any move I make next, I'll wonder why I still have my God **** ******* head.
It's only a matter of time until I only see red.
And everyone knows that you all deserve the most horrifically and excruciating deaths.
So while you daft imbecillic nymphotic wastes of skin, keep this conspiracy going while life is just dim witted grim.
I'll wonder why you all gave away what you all had within.
If you were all that valueless then what the **** is there left to win?
The mess is a pit of fire and you drag and push people to their mercilessly torturous doom, because it's the good hearted or pure you all want to consume.
So while you all act like parasites feeding on life, I'll just try to find a way to save my daughter while I get the job done right of taking my life and never again seeing any one body in or on any plane of existence in any ******* god **** point in time.
Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 1:02 AM UTC