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Chandler Lauren Feb 2013
Secrets secrets secrets
I know all your stories
Your insecurities
Your dark side

Secrets secrets secrets

Some you told me
Some that other guy told me
Some I overheard
Others I have acquired illicitly

Secrets secrets secrets

I hold your reputation
And your mental stability
And your trust
In my hands

Secrets secrets secrets

I am trustworthy
And that's a good thing
But who hasn't made bad choices before?

Secrets secrets secrets

You know some of mine
Think you know all of mine
You could crush me bit by bit
but in the wrong hands,

Secrets secrets secrets

Are nothing but a truce between frenemies
Like two loaded guns
Aimed at eachother
Smiling, but set to **** if necessary.

Secrets secrets secrets

Are they really secrets at all?
Are you sure you know me?
Whispers run rampant here.
Elle Kris Aug 2011
We are straight lines
powdery and sharp,
carved into perfection.
We sit next to each other
forever
without touching.
Not finished
Threw a couple benzos in the mix yesterday
which was very unlike me, but it paid off;
The time was spent at a good friend's house.

Started with clonazolam (not to be confused
with clonazpam), this designer benzodiazepine
is as potent as xanax but with a longer duration
of between 6-10 hours. Abuse often leads to blackout
states and it has been dis-affectionately nicknamed 'clam'.
Being cautious of any compound active in the microgram range,
At first I ingested only a fifth of the illicitly pressed tablet.
It had light but noticeable effects which cooled my mind enough
that I consider dipping my toe in my preferred class of compound.

Perhaps an hour later I insuffulated 2mg
of 2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylthioamphetamine,
Better known as DOT, the first of the Aleph series.
This produced a bare threshold of effects, including
minor thought acceleration (to counter the benzo)
and a hint of warmth throughout my body.
I left it at that. It is a good sign for future inquiries
into that rather mysterious series of compound.

Later still, I wrestled with whether or not to try another benzo
which was gifted to me when I mentioned I had never tried it.
Chlordiazepoxide, in this case going by the brand name Librium.
Prescribed to treat anxiety, insomnia and symptoms of withdrawal,
It has a half-life of between 5-30 hours. However,
An active metabolite of chlordiazepoxide (and also diazepam)
is nordiazepam - active for between 36-200 hours.
Can you imagine taking a drug which lasts eight days?
Hence my hesitation.
After some consideration (fifteen minutes of quick research
followed by fifty minutes of feeling the psychological weight
of the pill on my palm), I ingested a small black and blue capsule
marked "LIB 10mg". Of course, such a small amount
would not be in my system for so long.

Shortly thereafter two of us went down to the shop.
I floated through the isles, settling upon a carton of apple juice.
A slight but nonetheless uncommon feeling of happiness struck
me during our walk back. The fresh air was good, I could feel
the vague comfort of distinct experience. Perhaps this reads
as if it's nonsense, and I know it, but a sensation reached
out to me from my past, recognition of the pattern of being
I was currently pursuing, a mindset.
I suggested we split a small dose
of an exotic trip I'd been saving.

It's duration was appropriately
short, 3-6 hours. We ate 7.5mg
of 5-Methoxy-N,N-diallyltryptamine,
Commonly referred to as 5-MeO-DALT.
I believe I have had the honor of bestowing
upon it the colloquial name Foxtrot.

It probably did not effect us much,
I certainly could barely distinguish its
effects in the mix. Silly of me really, I don't
even like benzos, I had just been in a bad place
recently; this session reminded me I did not need
to escape anything, everything I once loved
is within reach. I'd give some credit for that insight
to the influence of psychedelics, despite the
quieting presence of axiolytics. Ultimately,
Insight is not a product of any drug. It stems
from experience, and no substance can dispute
the immutable metaphysics of mind,
Whatever its form may be.
Sabbatical's end.
Anecandu Sep 2016
Someone said your eyes were like crystals
I say they are exquisite diamonds that make you sparkle
For even though my station of poverty is cruel,
You are now and always my most precious jewel

To be beholden by your golden charms at leisure
Brings me daily so much pleasure,
Each time you glide into view
As an angel on gilded wings of air.

You persuaded me illicitly with your smile
So captivating it entrapped and dangled keys to a cage of fate,
Where I grin beyond its iron gates,
Here I am yours truly, the world’s happiest prisoner.

For this prison of fate holds and subjugates
My fickle heart to your powers innate,
At any time you could with one wink command me to remain
Enslave me with your iridescent eyes to tame, in your domain

When you speak,  little bells register in my head and echo in my heart
Striking me sharper than Japanese swords... your romantic words
And love, our hearts greatest reward, comes forward so delicately,
Shored and anchored by respect.......... pure in every aspect

Treating your fickle heart as gently it deserves,
Yet how cruel thou art to taunt me this way,
To withhold thy love until now........ all this bliss I missed,
Knowing you could transform my world with a kiss.

Thus you pulled my heart from an Abyss,
Stripping me and burnishing my feelings with happiness,
The freedom of innocence and youth come back as the only truths,
The truth is I would give it all to have just only you.
Ivy Swolf May 2015
Over thinking
about nothing and spiralling deeper
and deeper into a vast and useless
consciousness is just another form of suicide
that you hear about on the internet.

I'm not bringing myself down into the dirt
again this time just because it's a better
point of view for
you. I know I'm just here for when
your stability gets too boring, and I'm a
liar now
because I shouted to the world from
rooftops and
illicitly whispered on street
corners that I was done
complaining.

And yet here I am, and here you are,
looking at me in the dirt. It's in my eyes
and now you look like it, too.

I guess I'm not strong yet
and I could try to twist this whole
situation into something desirable
and exotic and beautiful, but I will end up
hating those words. Tears don't
water the seeds of new beginnings and
despair isn't just a mask
that will one day wash
off, when in reality
it's your face
that you try to pry off every
evening while looking in the mirror.

Surrendering is violent.
And yet
even soldiers
must rest.
i am questioning what im evening writing about and if it really matters.
K Balachandran Mar 2012
Through a hole in her
dilapidated nest,
a besotted crow, eyed the moon
she loved and longed for.

The desire grew,
as the moon's smile became intimately radient,
as if he yearned to embrace illicitly
the magical night, within crow's charmed wings.

At  the dead of night
when she lost all hopes,
and reluctently went to bed,
a moon beam, like a thief, crept in,
  and slept with the crow's
unspoken sadness.
Paul M Chafer Nov 2014
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds,
Languishing lazily within a dream,
Once together, but now lost forever,
In fading memory’s drifting stream.

We shared every pleasure, she and I,
Two girls embracing, love so sweet,
Tasting our butterflies and rosebuds,
Consuming our passion’s, *****-heat.

We explored all nature had to offer,
Sun-drenched glades, darkened woods,
Fantasising, and illicitly tantalising,
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds.
Dedicated to Jeanne Midtowns and inspired by her poem ‘Coming Om’ to understand the full flavour of this poem, a visit to Jeanne’s poem is required.
Glenn McCrary Aug 2011
Unexpectedly he has been cracked



Squarely across his dainty skull



Inevitably to his knees he languishes



Supplemented by a concussion



Havoc is illicitly wreaked upon the delicacy



Of this young man's psyche



As another swift, sucker punch is executed



Stylishly into his jawbone



Followed by an unforeseen series



Of frenzied jabs to the nose



The anguish screams through the brooks



Of crimson oozing from his nostrils



While a dangerous haymaker



Shockingly arises from thin air



Sinking fiercely into his cornea



Rupturing the veins in his eyeball



A circular crown of black envelops



The entire surface of his left eye



Oh, the gruesome consequences of



Applauding the eminence of nonexistence



A truculent knockout that will truly



Abduct one into an eerie coma



And rightfully deliver them back to



The portion of reality where they belong
My heart is a honeycomb
Riddled with many small spaces,
Each one a placeholder
For pieces I gifted to you.
I remember each moment of gifting.
The first; your birthday party,
You walked me to the bar and gazed on me with wonder
Before revealing more than you should, frankly and without fear
or expectation.
Later that night,
You slipped your hand illicitly into the warm space just above my knees
And breathed a longing sigh.
I took your hand away and held it in my own,
Closing your fingers around the first piece of my heart.
The first time we kissed, I had hidden another piece under my tongue
And it melted into yours.
When you told me I was beautiful
And proved that you really thought so,
You found a piece in what you gazed upon
And it burned itself onto your retinas, indelible - my hearts branding.
There were many other offerings,
And by the time it all collapsed around us,
My heart was barely able to sustain me,
I had offered almost all I could,
The final offering would have destroyed me.
I suppose I should be glad I never had to make it,
But I am a poor version of myself now;
A heart riddled with holes,
And nothing to show for all that I gave up.
You have so much of my heart, with you
I wonder if you feel it beating?
I wonder, if each little piece,
Now bleeding, and yearning to return,
Shares that yearning with you?
Is your heart bleeding, in sympathy, too?
I'm looking at this paper with no idea what to write,
Because all I would like to sound I've already read.
I'm looking at this medium which voices my thoughts,
But I can't seem to write the right words to paint the picture In my head.
I'm living my life the way I think is right,
But all I feel is my emptiness am I just writing to write?

Where did my inspiration go.
I'm looking at this paper with no idea what's gonna be another page.
what possibly can I write that would be heard in this day and age?
Poverty?
economy?
democracy?
society?
illicitly?
Race?
love?
Hate?
Peace?
Despair?
Education?
Fascination?
Condemnation?
Jubi­lation?
All saturated, there is no space for my view.
I'm looking in my mind to find a topic but I can't  fabricate one,
Because all I believe in and hold dear has been written.
I'm looking at this piece of paper with no idea what to write, knowing ambiguity won't give these words meaning.
I'm looking at myself by reading my words.
I'm frustrated at myself for this writers block.
I am trying acknowledge myself by admitting I don't have all the answers.
Yazi Feb 2014
When the breeze is stagnant and the water is
still, maybe this is
a sign you should look up,
because if this world can stop the wind in
it's tracks, imagine what it could
do to the air in your lungs.
How many times have you pulled grass out of the ground while pondering what went wrong
Maybe if you listened harder to the breeze you could understand its telling you to never find comfort in boys who find more happiness in illicitly filled baggies than you
It could take me walking an entire desert to know
Love is not quite as easy as quicksand
and the more you try to keep your arms free,
the closer you'll be to missing something, but I'll always be walking
Michael Briefs Aug 2018
I was indifferent
to the hot winds of May
As I busily made my way
Toward a higher ground;
To a quiet place where
I would stoke a slow burn --
A place to rejuvenate
In motion;
To find release and
Refine…
To beckon my strength
Return.

And there, in the midst of my striving,
I heard her draw near.

My attention arrested, enthralled;
The moment nigh with grace profound.
From that familiar hum and thump of Life:

Now…

I might be blinded by my faith in
Things unseen…
I may be short-sighted in my
Ever-present need,
But I swear I saw you smile at me
And your look lingered
Illicitly.

Her golden face, her glance, her grace,
Her stride reached inside of me.
My breath was caught dead, my mind
Rapt in expectation of a spirit that seems
Ancient. I received her gift with urgent longing.

Oh, what a moment to be touched from within!
Time stood frozen, suspended on the point of a needle,
And all things were held in the grip of a gaze,
Seized by her angelic brilliance.

Now…

I am undone by the
Sign and wonder
Of this woman.
How her form and fire
Captivates and beguiles,
Bewitched in desire.
Raptured in sheer mesmeric
Separation
From that quiet place of self.

And I was taken away on a hot wind in May.
She lit a slow burn that rises.

A glance, a gaze and a gift
Surprises.

Her smile…
Satsih Verma Mar 2018
Walking towards you
prudently, lighting
my bones, like candles
in dark.

For salvation. The
lone cobbler cheats on you.
He has placed the rough bricks
instead of cobblestones to cover
the surface.

Healer has become
avenger. Illicitly― drinks
from the ****** eyes, to
be called a survivor.

The cadaver vanishes.
There was no death of
any Fakir. Only flower bed―
will be the last darshan.

You win the battle, waging
inside you and
forget your name.
Jordan Leisure Oct 2021
Holding hands and handing demands to our hearts and our heads. My fingers tap illicitly across your palm into the sheets. The ceiling is blown open and the stars
are ours.
Janna B Nov 2020
What are you wanting?
I’d like to move on
Why are you wanting
Another one.
My heart does miss you
There’s a hole where you were
You awakened my spirit
And now you’re not there.
You’ll answer a call
And tell me you miss me
You’re still in your home
But dreaming of life with me
What am I wanting?
I need this resolved
I can’t do it illicitly  
That bothers my soul.
Almost a year on
And I still feel you with me
I want you to stand up
Take on responsibility.
Make your decisions
Make them out loud
Love me or leave me
Please decide now.
And if you decide,
That you will try loving me
Please know I’m a prize
I wont be so easy
I’d be willing to try
But not throw it in for you
You’d need to earn trust
And that may be tough to do.
Here’s the indecision, the ridiculous missing of the other one. It was an emotional affair, love but no touch. Has anyone had that? I spend forever trying to avoid thinking of him. He wanted to leave his wife for me, but that was his decision alone. It’d be easier if these feelings went away so that I can happily stick with what is ‘right’.. and start again...

— The End —