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"incapacitating" poems
A gentle breeze Forever remembered A luscious glade Cold under your feet A rich blue sky Seemingly unreal Beautifully arousing aromas Tasting without touch Pleasingly soft sand To bathe yourself in A sensuous bed of leaves To wrap yourself in A pleasurably warm ocean Stimulating your senses Lustful love Forever wanting Incapacitating desire Depriving your concentration You lose yourself In natures tempting ways Seducing you to stay
0
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Life
<> you pout and defer, dancing backwards, claiming, blue is now blackened from underuse, incapable and incapacitating revival *saying  eyes cannot see, distinctly, neither near or far, the tremble of love, forgot & distantly absent, but I know, a heart’s sensory muscles never die, though weaken they might, underused, un-exercised denying  that inspiration   no longer resides with in thy sensitivities, has fled, undercover of smoking forest fires all the diurnal hazards that invade, occupying my internal spaces once filled by poems you conceived, birthed, in a pleasured haze, came so fast, you bare recall agony accompanied, but not the ecstasy of the end resultant!* ***you know it’s you of whom I write, but, a note not shaming names, but messages countless private messages have I sent begging, beseeching, give me your gifts*** once more, you owe me not, though I oft irritate with my deafening pleas, yet only denials continue, my pleas ding but dent not, the tired fear of your exposition so speak to you plain, feed my soul selfish like in years gone past, there are holes in mine that require your elixir, creamy softness that moistens my face with tears of your words originating, astound, enfold** not later, not soon, not excusals, write for me NOW, WRITE FOR YOURSELF, but leave me not forsaken and thirst un-slackened,** Answer! To whom do you owe your poems?
0
Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 11:30 AM UTC
The Ink in Your Blood Never Dies! (To whom do you owe your poems?)
Unconscious efforts to diminish my size Incapacitating distractions leave me unwise, Deformed by obnoxious societal lies Parallel faith, mostly untruths in endless wait Craving fairness Awareness Finding only sophisticated insecurities Because life, as we know her, Is a dangerous tease.
0
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 12:40 PM UTC
Tight ***
An endless waterfall of emptiness leave her, love her, hurt her, she does not care she longs to care but she is covered and bundled in a thick quilt that poisons her everything with “nothing” something is missing, the tears are missing she knew she would be okay because of the streams that would flow furiously down her cotton felt rosy cheeks she knew she would be okay because of the tender most voluntary light tears dancing gracefully across the marbled floor that was her face but now, she does not know if she will be okay because of the dessert like dryness of her eyes, and the solitude her cheeks and lips have felt for quite some time now something is missing, she is missing she has been looking for what seems like a million years all over her now pitch black universe for herself she had colors she had stars, moons, millions of suns and planets within her now the color black is the mere most perfect description of everything she has become the battle between deciding what to feel out of all that she felt is over she feels as an invisible soul that has passed from our physical world feels; anger, rage because he is truly incapable of touching those who he stands infront of all day, he cannot do anything about the fact that he is invisible and non existent to all those he wishes to be noticed by she feels anger, rage because she finds herself incapable of touching her emotions frustration because tears no longer dance across her face she feels invisible to her reflection in the mirror because she remembers the image of a person an actually person who is able to cry when sad and smile when happy she is no longer able to show any physical emotion so she sees no reflection a thick black fog invades her physical body and soul crawling through her eye sockets, her mouth, ears ,nostrils, and pours it invades her psyche with all its blackness and abducts all the stars, moons many suns, and planets converting her inner universe into endless caves made of millions of tunnels that make love with emptiness and darkness she has become a maze beautifully numb, impatiently lost, sedated by absence she is me, and i, have been kissed by apathy. paralyzing me and incapacitating me from myself is what this beautiful demon has done to me she touched my lips and altered my thoughts persuaded me into the belief that she would protect me she told me that if i did not feel i would not hurt at the time that i fell in love with her i was in a state where i would of taken my life just to end all feelings and confusion within me she offered her anesthetic kiss, i took it as she relentlessly took over me i started to realize… now i fear it be to late i know the end to this maze will be the gate to my stars, my moons, my many suns, and planets and i will run for what now seems an eternity but i will not give up on my universe j.e
0
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Apathy
An endless waterfall of emptiness leave her, love her, hurt her, she does not care she longs to care but she is covered and bundled in a thick quilt that poisons her everything with “nothing” something is missing, the tears are missing she knew she would be okay because of the streams that would flow furiously down her cotton felt rosy cheeks she knew she would be okay because of the tender most voluntary light tears dancing gracefully across the marbled floor that was her face but now, she does not know if she will be okay because of the dessert like dryness of her eyes, and the solitude her cheeks and lips have felt for quite some time now something is missing, she is missing she has been looking for what seems like a million years all over her now pitch black universe for herself she had colors she had stars, moons, millions of suns and planets within her now the color black is the mere most perfect description of everything she has become the battle between deciding what to feel out of all that she felt is over she feels as an invisible soul that has passed from our physical world feels; anger, rage because he is truly incapable of touching those who he stands infront of all day, he cannot do anything about the fact that he is invisible and non existent to all those he wishes to be noticed by she feels anger, rage because she finds herself incapable of touching her emotions frustration because tears no longer dance across her face she feels invisible to her reflection in the mirror because she remembers the image of a person an actually person who is able to cry when sad and smile when happy she is no longer able to show any physical emotion so she sees no reflection a thick black fog invades her physical body and soul crawling through her eye sockets, her mouth, ears ,nostrils, and pours it invades her psyche with all its blackness and abducts all the stars, moons many suns, and planets converting her inner universe into endless caves made of millions of tunnels that make love with emptiness and darkness she has become a maze beautifully numb, impatiently lost, sedated by absence she is me, and i, have been kissed by apathy. paralyzing me and incapacitating me from myself is what this beautiful demon has done to me she touched my lips and altered my thoughts persuaded me into the belief that she would protect me she told me that if i did not feel i would not hurt at the time that i fell in love with her i was in a state where i would of taken my life just to end all feelings and confusion within me she offered her anesthetic kiss, i took it as she relentlessly took over me i started to realize… now i fear it be to late i know the end to this maze will be the gate to my stars, my moons, my many suns, and planets and i will run for what now seems an eternity but i will not give up on my universe j.e
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42
she's got shadows in her hair and scorpions hide in there. her eyes drip venom, incapacitating all she glances upon, turning a summer sunrise into decay. she's got shadows in her hair and scorpions move beneath the surface. her lips skitter, chasing down and breaking apart even the sturdiest of mountains. she's got shadows in her hair and scorpions crawl under skin. her teeth gnaw, eroding all she touches, turning a broken promise into gossamer strands. she's got shadows in her hair and scorpions dance within her skull. her chest heaves, filling up and emptying out the horizon. she's got shadows in her hair and scorpions bleeding throughout. her heart roars, shaking all she treads on, turning a lifetime into dust. she's got shadows in her hair and I no longer care about the scorpions. her hands shake, holding my immortal coil in a death grip. she's got scorpions in her hair.
0
Feb 2, 2024
Feb 2, 2024 at 4:40 AM UTC
all the scorpions in her hair
hot blood, red cheeks, burnt lips, and smoke incapacitating my lungs, i heave through the fire in my home clouded judgement, feelings of hopelessness, i run through my home to find a place where i can feel safe to open my eyes a place where my lungs are free to experience breath without tentative hesitance, where my senses are in allignment i search for hydration, for a holistic cleansing of the soul, for a second chance to reclaim this home i have been so careless in when i finally see myself my sense of sight funnels in and out has my skin always looked like this? who let me destroy my home? there is nothing to put out the fire my skin revolts against my bone as my pulse laryngeally stabs me in protest of my reluctance to acknowledge the pain i am ready to give into the flames, to be a soul of light to transcend the blazing in my heart, in my veins, in my brainwaves, to go through this life, with open, kindled eyes, a fiery spirit lungs of feathers making it obvious that i have scars, because every aspect of my being, burns.
0
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 2:09 AM UTC
combustion of the spirit
Regarding the snow I hope we get hammered I hope we get hit I hope that the wind just blows and blows Yet cannot decide which way to go When carrying for us the blessing of snow How I hope to get home And get off these roads Be it into a ditch That way for a moment That way for a bit I would be left alone Be it just for a minute And if you're smiling now Then you can relate to this So get going dear related Before the roads turn to slick How I hope and hope with an honest heart That we would see storms Of magnificent art Capable of incapacitating the means to work At least in part
0
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
Snow Storm
The ineffaceable stain Allegorical refrain Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane They hector from a distance Muted but militant resistance magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence Heterodoxy enters the stage Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage Succor sought, corporate media bought A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought I defer to dignified exemplars I confer with callous company at vapid bars Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success The articulations of divinity imply rigidity sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core omnipresent paparazzi deplores Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity Cupid and cupidity must be related because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep Redemptive powers yet articulated Should ease the prospects of being matriculated But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right? Must I swim to distant shores Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach. Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
0
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Begrudged at Every Tick
The ineffaceable stain Allegorical refrain Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane They hector from a distance Muted but militant resistance magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence Heterodoxy enters the stage Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage Succor sought, corporate media bought A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought I defer to dignified exemplars I confer with callous company at vapid bars Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success The articulations of divinity imply rigidity sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core omnipresent paparazzi deplores Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity Cupid and cupidity must be related because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep Redemptive powers yet articulated Should ease the prospects of being matriculated But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right? Must I swim to distant shores Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach. Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
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34
I said I’ve moved on but maybe I haven’t All the days from our past replay in my head when I’m out in the world… or sheltered at home… My feeling were real… this you had known… But you broke me down with no second thought It’s no wonder it's us who had never fought My passionate kisses, your intimate touch Make my days hard to live, but live I must So as a heart falls asunder, thoughts fell askew And all that I had was all that made you… Yet between the silences my heart awoke My placid mind forms rhetorical questions To determine the meaning of the words we spoke “…I love you…” From you such a desired announcement Fell flat like the plane of reality When thrown against the intangibility of the unknown… …and yet.. “I really loved you” So as I gave my heart to you more with each passing day You picked at it just to throw pieces away… Now the pain I feel is more immense than you know Sincea as each day goes by, I wish my memories would go… “…but the pain is a reminder that I’m alive” Because since that fateful day You’d never guess I’d think I’m dead As the incapacitating truth hit my heart… …My nerve endings burnt out… And my heart gave in to despair… “But I Believe That You Will Be Fine” Just as I believed that we’d work But as I was once told the truth does hurt… Accepting things the way they are is the only remedy To redeem a lost soul from the emaciating pain “…I miss you…” Well if you did as you say you do You’d seek me out… And notice that the person I’ve become Isn’t a person at all… I’m a shade… no the Miasma… Left from the dark in my heart And the light of my love has disappeared… “… You’ve Been In My Dreams…” Do you know why? Because I sure did… The feelings I had Weren’t that of a kid... I loved you And did what I did to prove it But then again… Girls want Men.. Not growing kids… So the loss of me… Will resound in your heart… ……… While you have your light… I have my dark… ………
0
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 4:21 PM UTC
Heart Asunder... Thoughts Askew...
I said I’ve moved on but maybe I haven’t All the days from our past replay in my head when I’m out in the world… or sheltered at home… My feeling were real… this you had known… But you broke me down with no second thought It’s no wonder it's us who had never fought My passionate kisses, your intimate touch Make my days hard to live, but live I must So as a heart falls asunder, thoughts fell askew And all that I had was all that made you… Yet between the silences my heart awoke My placid mind forms rhetorical questions To determine the meaning of the words we spoke “…I love you…” From you such a desired announcement Fell flat like the plane of reality When thrown against the intangibility of the unknown… …and yet.. “I really loved you” So as I gave my heart to you more with each passing day You picked at it just to throw pieces away… Now the pain I feel is more immense than you know Sincea as each day goes by, I wish my memories would go… “…but the pain is a reminder that I’m alive” Because since that fateful day You’d never guess I’d think I’m dead As the incapacitating truth hit my heart… …My nerve endings burnt out… And my heart gave in to despair… “But I Believe That You Will Be Fine” Just as I believed that we’d work But as I was once told the truth does hurt… Accepting things the way they are is the only remedy To redeem a lost soul from the emaciating pain “…I miss you…” Well if you did as you say you do You’d seek me out… And notice that the person I’ve become Isn’t a person at all… I’m a shade… no the Miasma… Left from the dark in my heart And the light of my love has disappeared… “… You’ve Been In My Dreams…” Do you know why? Because I sure did… The feelings I had Weren’t that of a kid... I loved you And did what I did to prove it But then again… Girls want Men.. Not growing kids… So the loss of me… Will resound in your heart… ……… While you have your light… I have my dark… ………
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58
I once knew myself, I once knew me well. Now I wonder: Is this my cell? Am I imprisoned forever more, to be left with nothing but the shore? To feel the sand beneath my feet; to feel the sun's relentless heat. I shatter myself and lose my bearings- only to understand I am uncaring. I fall through the ground and sink without a sound; ripping through the seams of...everything. Inside this hourglass time grows old, with me only left to sit and mold. I have lost my way; I have lost it all today. ~~~ My time has passed through the hourglass. I no longer understand what it is to be a man. Chills vibrate through me, incapacitating my being. Unexplainable reverie, I can only start seeing. Visions become my existance, trying to remember the life before. Trying so hard to condense it- but I always come back to the shore.
0
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 8:12 PM UTC
The Shore
Oh foul is the smoke of these chemical sticks of death how burning to the eyes so very bad for the breath The thick black tar coating incapacitating those pink lungs so pure when young Now I watch you lay there Mother fighting hard for breath and tears fill my eyes as I wait for your death Their is nothing I can do as you cough and sputter all I knew then, was I was losing my Mother Big profits with high tax life cut short with your axe you widow makers and mother takers By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
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Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
Widow Makers, Mother Takers
To the drunken slob who tried to get his way with me at a wedding To the pig who called out "Mmm, get a load of that body." And to the total idiots who came into my workplace and hollered "I'll take a cheeseburger, with a side of you." ******* I am not a side order I am the whole ******* meal I will unhinge my shut jaw And swallow you whole With my feminist outcries With my pleas for the reform of a broken body A system in which all the parts are not in tune The arms work against the legs The heart works against the mind The cisgender male works against all else And like all broken things Most do not intend to be sexist Most do not understand that what they are doing Is incapacitating an entire group of people That it is diminishing them to anything but We are not equal Because my body is seen as a play thing My body is seen as something a man can take and toy with My body is seen as parts, but not a whole While his body is composed for him. He lives in a society that teaches him to take, take, take But that society teaches us to give, abide, be good All of which do not work in harmony with each other Because according to this logic I cannot make ****** choices Because mine are made for me. But I cannot give in to the choices he makes for me Or they work against my father's wishes. I am either a **** or a ***** their is no in between When my entire existence is reduced to what a man thinks fit for me So to these men who seek to manipulate, control, and take I am not conforming to society's standards set for me And I am not your side order Or for men to pick and choose the parts they want from me I am my own woman, my own hero I am my own meal.
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Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Meal
To the drunken slob who tried to get his way with me at a wedding To the pig who called out "Mmm, get a load of that body." And to the total idiots who came into my workplace and hollered "I'll take a cheeseburger, with a side of you." ******* I am not a side order I am the whole ******* meal I will unhinge my shut jaw And swallow you whole With my feminist outcries With my pleas for the reform of a broken body A system in which all the parts are not in tune The arms work against the legs The heart works against the mind The cisgender male works against all else And like all broken things Most do not intend to be sexist Most do not understand that what they are doing Is incapacitating an entire group of people That it is diminishing them to anything but We are not equal Because my body is seen as a play thing My body is seen as something a man can take and toy with My body is seen as parts, but not a whole While his body is composed for him. He lives in a society that teaches him to take, take, take But that society teaches us to give, abide, be good All of which do not work in harmony with each other Because according to this logic I cannot make ****** choices Because mine are made for me. But I cannot give in to the choices he makes for me Or they work against my father's wishes. I am either a **** or a ***** their is no in between When my entire existence is reduced to what a man thinks fit for me So to these men who seek to manipulate, control, and take I am not conforming to society's standards set for me And I am not your side order Or for men to pick and choose the parts they want from me I am my own woman, my own hero I am my own meal.
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40
Haunted houses creep in and out Giving life to the ghosts Carving, clawing their way to the present Leaving you bleeding from the eyes Kiss them gently to retell their tales Feel their dark caresses Drawn forth from your gut Fingers wrapped around your spine They feed, oh so deeply Tooth and fang deep inside The pain amplifies, rippling Keeping you immobile and trapped Anguish sours softly bedded dreams Their voices, electric, hallowed Like nails down a chalkboard Incapacitating your actions Coiled muscles, anxious to explode You want to lash out Scream, drown out the past Scatter those broken ghosts But they overwhelm And you cringe, In the darkness Until you see the light
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Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Histories in the Mind
A lukewarm pile of fresh ***** And the scattered pieces of a broken heart Or some other wildly clichéd dross A vague color between green and grey Maybe some recent cigarette butts In it are uncomfortable memories Immortalized vindictive shards of the past A boot print to assert the endless shame Nothing positive is ever in ***** It's a relief of pain and dullness It contains the distilled essence of heartache I haven't thrown up in years I must have so much pent up waste in me Waste of the self, garbage of the soul Unholy, rancid, putrid, odorous ***** Or am I perhaps forgetting something? There is tranquil solitude in ***** Isolated, cold, mechanical self-reflection Representations of pathetic shame Cruel hatred in regurgitated carrots and corn No disgust except that which the perceiver suggests What point is there in disgust and regret then? The ugly and incapacitating truth escaped Perhaps the reason I do not, is because I am! Quetzal, the drunken ***** of the Holy Spirit Reflecting all the disgust God hides Transposed onto unshapely fractures Cavities and chasms, gaping on the cloth of Eden Become as ***** lukewarm and odorous! The purest and cleanest reflection of God's adoration
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Oct 17, 2022
Oct 17, 2022 at 3:49 PM UTC
*****
Vacant Streets Barren homes Concrete rubble scratching beneath my feet Am I all alone? Towering viridescent leaved Giants On the other side of the road Wind swiftly whispering hollow secrets Into the grove. I intently observe the grooved bark of a tree What species is it? I don't know, but I would like to know My eyes scrupulously make their way up to the reaching branches at the very top Next to this tree I observe is a tree stump It doesn't look like it was cut with precision, it looked like a flash of unpredictable lightning chopped it right in half Incapacitating it to no longer grow, ragged shards of raw inner wood Now blackened with death. The difference between the stump and the outreaching tree was one proliferated while the other did not due to death. I felt my heart in my chest and arteries transporting blood to a part of my mind neglected and depressed As the realization swooshed and then swelled into my heart, that these conditions of my mind and circumstances were not forever But temporary lessons Yes, that's all these bad things are, Temporary lessons A tree can be cut but if not cut through all the way to cause death, it will grow around that cut, and everything else about it will eventually become bigger than those few times it experiences pain The key to all of this was to move forward, grow With limbs outstretched to the sky.
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Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
The Lessons of Trees
A song comes on the radio and it's quite catchy and fun and I'd like to hear the lyrics so I can find it later- but I can't hear because nobody else cares. They chatter-scream-and laugh excessively loud because they've all heard this song before, know it by heart finish to start, and that's how it is. They all listen to the same music watch the same shows and movies know all the jokes all the comedians and stories they already know. I try to catch up and watch what they watch step where they step and sing their songs but there's too much catching up to do and not enough time they're too far ahead of me. So I give up. Lengthening the gap between me and the rest of my peers only isolating myself further incapacitating my ability to connect. I'll watch my quiet foreign movies and syfy shows and learn my own jokes and continue to listen to my odd quiet music. They know their world, and I know mine. and no matter how hard I try to visit theirs, I'll never be able to stay.
0
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC
Playing Catch-Up
Guilt awaiting beyond the threshold of passion, Too regretful to be engulfed by devouring flames, Burning with every ounce of blood pumped in ****** Sensation overwhelming a morally sound reality, entombing the moment on repeat, reliving every touch, every secret whispered. Broken promises gnaw at the spinal cord, Incapacitating victims with each mouth full of deceit, Overpowered in puddles of sensuality scattered, Pain distributed through currents of attraction, Smoothering the protests of anxiety with free will. Breathing the scent of venom, Seductive serpent offering the hungry, garentees of release muffled by falsehoods, Providing the fruit of past deprivation, The sweet necture drips from supple lips, Woven into the wounds of betrayal, A secret to be scilenced by the embrace of guilt.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
An Affair
i am meat i'm useful only for consumption stunning, incapacitating "i'll split you in two" you're killing me! how would you like to dress my flesh? grinding am i tender enough? bleeding put me on display i'm just a trophy am i the best piece of meat you've ever had?
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Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
The Butcher That Does Not Love Me
Too often, we wish for things, which fill us full of regret. Too often, we become the things, which fill us full of dread. Too often, too often, this nightmare persist, Too often. Too often, I am at the mercy of this madness. Too often, it swells within my heart, incapacitating me. Too often, I lay in feverish pain, a prisoner of anxiety. Too often, too often, I wander into darkness, Too often. Too often, I become this awful wretch, this terror Too often, I beg, to be set free. Too often, and its always, Too often enough.
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Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 11:41 PM UTC
Too Often
Death doesn’t exist, And I refuse to believe in life. This world consists Of incapacitating time. We are all starving signatures Of an experiemental joke, And everything we create Just makes me ******* choke. All that exists subsists of rot, A wasted penance, long forgot, I lay the framework The words became murk While the public sits And bathes in **** I don’t want any part of it. - Release me. I don’t belong here, I’ll eradicate anything in my way here, Subliminally inserted masquerades Confuse the minds of the weak, sitting without thought in this charade, Confounding the blinded to weep. I’m only suicidal in the mornings, But the evenings bring contempt, The hatred spawns new beginnings, The death brings our lament, Death doesn’t exist, And I’ll never believe in life.
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Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC
Death Doesn't Exist.
Above all, I fear fear itself Its paralyzing power Like some sort of poison Incapacitating me from head to toe If I give in, I am just another victim Restrained from feeling And stuck in a world of the unknown Where the future reins its ugly head And the past is nowhere to be seen The present is just another image Waiting to be destroyed in a flurry These thoughts rob me of my senses And soon I am living a dream I lose my sense of time Too weak to stay afloat Ready for the waves to swallow me whole And just when all is lost A hand reaches deep down Into the waves And pulls me up by the collar Saying, “this is not death” “death is far away” “death is busy” “death is preoccupied” “death does not pay attention to you” “for you have not caught his attention” And I am released Free to drift away Towards an island that supports me Free to live amongst the world The earth still remains spinning It has not yet ceased And in the distance A sunrise can be seen Can you see it? Perhaps it is just my imagination Perhaps I am just dreaming Lost amongst the stars And the future or past Cannot reach me here I am invincible Lying in the pacific Gazing up at the sun and stars As the moon fishes For diamonds Sprinkling my raft With stardust
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Death
Volumes of uncountable notions are lurking within my brain. Ousting like scorching flames that can evaporate the pouring rain. Needing to let them go like prisoners breaking out of their chains. Senseless words that comes out of nowhere like bandits raiding a train. Hailing from far beyond my head are immeasurable yet merky words. Incapacitating my rationality yet it brings me to a place of thinking that is about to unfold. Restless times that exhaust me withers my mind and my wandering soul. Entirely escaping a niche that I came to call my sanity being burried in a shallow hole. Laughing on my own while the rest of the world laughs at me. Only to lose more of my mentality while I hid from them this epic side of my humanity. A portion of me is on a leash since its mostly out of control. Denting a hardened spirit that has almost took its toll. Burning into ashes like trees  caught up in the fire. Only to rise up once more like a **** that never gets tired. Over this life time I have accumulated more than I could actually handle. An exobite of entries still not enough to have me dismantled. These are the things that runs through my head on every rising day. Breaking this habit is like an addictive vice that shall never be out of play. Admiring my own sense of reality while I stay in color when the world is in grey. Yearning to make more pieces of poetry in acronyms served on a silver tray.
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
VONSHIRE LOADBO OATBAY
i cant get thoughts to leave my head when i want them to. theyre like solicitors standing on my doorstep, and they wont go away unless i give them what they want. new scars, less food, my head bent over a toilet, retching. too many drugs, not enough drugs, sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep. i wish they would go away. i wish they didnt spin in my head porpoising up and down making me sick to my stomach, sick to my head, incapacitating me. I want to escape, i just want them gone. i dont want to die, i just dont want to feel this anymore i would do anything. i have done anything, and none of it seems to do any good. im just a mess of self destruction and self mutilation, i know. fundamentally unlovable? maybe. i just want them Gone. Away, but i dont know how to do that in a healthy way.
0
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 5:08 PM UTC
obsessive
when you're tired and need to sleep, you go to sleep. it is dangerous to stay awake if your eyes are closing-- at the wheel, at work, in public. but what if the exhaustion is deeper than your muscles, bones, and joints creaking. what if it is so totally incapacitating that you are going to fall down? what if you can't sleep? how do you take a nap, a break, a respite, from life?
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Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 11:11 PM UTC
dangerously tired